The night breeze crept through the gap in the stone room's window, carrying a damp scent mixed with cold metal. Lila awoke to the uncomfortable sensation of the handcuffs on her wrists, now removed but still leaving a red mark. She reflexively touched the back of her neck, as if to make sure she was still breathing.
The room was much the same as before: devoid of human touch, save for an old chandelier and a dusty bookshelf. But there was one new thing: a plate of warm bread and chicken soup sat on a small table near the bed.
Damian Valtieri is not there.
For the first time in three days, Lila was alone.
Lila slowly got out of bed, afraid her footsteps would be heard by hidden cameras or guards who might be watching her every move. As soon as her fingertips touched the doorknob, she held her breath.
Locked.
Of course.
“Good, Lila. You’re sitting on the jackpot of life,” he murmured softly. “Kidnapped by a paranoid mafia who thinks you’re a spy.”
He took a deep breath and returned to the table, his gaze fixed on the still-steaming food. His stomach contracted sharply. He wasn't the trusting type, but hunger compelled him to sit down.
Just as he was about to spoon a little soup, the sound of footsteps could be heard outside the door. Heavy, rhythmic, eerily familiar.
Damian.
The door opened, and the man entered like a black storm in human form.
He took off his long coat and hung it on a chair without looking at Lila. His black hair was slightly damp, as if it had just been drizzling. His cold aura filled the room even before he opened his mouth.
“You eat,” he said flatly, not a question, but a command that had already been enforced.
“I’ll die if I don’t eat,” Lila replied quickly.
For the first time since his return, Damian looked at him. His eyes weren't as vicious as before, but they still held the inhumanity of a predator considering whether its prey was still useful.
“I won’t let you die.” He closed the door softly, but the sound of the lock clicking made Lila break out in a cold sweat.
“Of course. Because you still need to ‘interrogate me,’” Lila countered.
Damian walked closer. It was only four steps, but each one made the floor seem tense. When he stopped right in front of Lila, they were only a breath's width apart.
“It’s not like that.” His voice was low. “I need to make sure you don’t touch death… before I know the whole truth.”
Lila flinched. Those weren't words of comfort. They were threats laced with an unnatural sense of ownership.
Damian pulled a leather notebook from the inside pocket of his coat. He set it on the table, and Lila briefly glanced at the pages covered in scribbled code, diagrams, and a portrait of Clara Jayes.
Lila swallowed. “That… is it.”
“The woman who looks like you?” Damian unfolded the page, revealing a photo of Clara with a scratch on her cheek. “She infiltrated my territory three months ago, stole important files, and disappeared. Since then, three of my men have died.”
Lila stared at the photo for a long time, her chest throbbing with a strange feeling, something like guilt that wasn't hers.
“And you think I work for him,” Lila muttered.
Damian didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed a chair and pulled it very close to Lila.
“Tell me the truth,” he whispered. “Who sent you?”
“I told you I'm nobody. I'm just...”
“...a private math tutor.” Damian finished his sentence mockingly. “Everyone I catch claims that. ‘I’m just a teacher,’ ‘I’m just a receptionist,’ ‘I’m just an artist.’ Misusing the most boring profession to hide their true intentions.”
Lila clenched her fingers. “I’m not a liar, Damian.”
Damian leaned in. Lila could smell the masculine cologne, a mix of cedar and embers. “Prove it.”
“I… don’t know how.” Her voice trailed off. For the first time since the kidnapping, Lila felt a mental breakdown she couldn’t bear any longer. “What more do you want? I’ve already explained my life to you.”
Damian looked at him as if he was considering something complicated. Then he stood up, walking towards the safe on the wall.
A click was heard.
Lila was hesitant to admit that her heart was racing.
Damian did not carry a weapon.
He was carrying something much more surprising: a thick wool coat, a scarf, and boots.
“Wear this.”
Lila frowned. “For what?”
“Let’s go.”
“Where?” Lila shifted back. “Are you finally going to bury me in the woods?”
Damian held back a faint smile, an expression so fleeting that Lila wasn't sure it was real. "If I wanted to kill you, this would have happened on day one."
“Huh? Then why not...”
“Because I’m not a stupid killer.” His voice was deep. “I need to see you outside this room. See how you react. Who recognizes you. Who notices you.”
Lila stood up slowly, hugging herself. “So this is… observation?”
“This is a field investigation.”
“That’s called stalking myself,” Lila retorted curtly.
Damian raised an eyebrow. “I call it efficiency.”
Even though he didn't bluff, his gaze clearly meant: no choice.
With slightly trembling hands, Lila put on her coat and boots. As she tied her scarf, Damian watched her intently, as if her every movement had meaning.
As he opened the door and let Lila out, her body tensed. The outside world seemed so much bigger after three days locked in that stone room.
They passed through a long corridor with cold marble floors. Two guards stood guard. As Lila passed, both of them automatically bowed toward Damian, not merely in respect, but in fear.
Lila just understood something:
This man is not just a mafia. He is the highest authority.
Damian led her to the grand staircase that led to the backyard of their old stone villa. As the glass doors opened, the cold English autumn wind hit Lila's face, making her stop.
It had been a long time since he had felt this little freedom.
But that freedom was soon shattered as Damian stood right behind him, his voice hitting his neck like a low threat.
“Remember, Lila.”
He grabbed the nape of her neck, gripping it tightly but not painfully.
“If you try to run away, it's not you who dies… but the people you love.”
Lila stiffened instantly. “You...you don't know who I love.”
“I can figure it out.” Damian slowly released his grip. “And I always get what I want.”
Two black cars were waiting. Damian opened the back door of one of them.
"Enter."
Lila stared at the expensive interior. She knew she had no choice.
But deep down, there was a strong feeling that whatever happened tonight… would change everything.
He got into the car.
Damian followed behind him, closing the door.
And as soon as the engine started, Lila realized that what was scary wasn't the kidnapping but the fact that in that dark, narrow space, his heart was beating not only because of fear.
But because Damian was sitting too close.
Too intense.
Too… controlling.
And that, more dangerous than anything.