Behind Locked Doors

Serena's POV

The door slammed shut behind me.

I was alone.

For the first time since Lorenzo had taken me, I had a moment to breathe. To process. To feel the weight of what had just happened.

I turned, my gaze sweeping over the room.

It was lavish, much bigger than my old apartment. A massive bed with silk sheets. A fireplace flickering softly in the corner. Expensive furniture, dark wood, heavy curtains that blocked out the night.

A cage, no matter how beautiful, was still a cage.

I rushed to the door and grabbed the handle. Locked.

Panic shot through me.

I twisted the knob harder, rattling it with all my strength. Nothing. My breath came faster, shallower. I yanked at it again. Again.

"Damn it!" I slammed my fist against the door, the impact sending a dull ache through my hand.

I stepped back, forcing myself to think.

There had to be another way out.

I turned to the windows, rushing toward them. Heavy drapes blocked my view, but when I shoved them aside, my stomach dropped.

Bars.

Not decorative ones. Not something meant for design. These were thick. Solid. Unbreakable.

I pressed my forehead against the glass, my fingers gripping the edge of the windowsill.

Trapped.

I took a shuddering breath, forcing myself to push down the wave of helplessness threatening to drown me. Crying wouldn't fix this. Panicking wouldn't fix this.

I needed a plan.

Watch. Listen. Find weaknesses.

Lorenzo was powerful, but no one was invincible.

I needed to be careful. Smart.

And most of all, I needed to survive.

---

Lorenzo's POV

"She's already testing the locks."

I barely looked up from my drink. "Of course she is."

Dante stood across from me, arms crossed, his usual scowl firmly in place. "You're enjoying this."

I smirked. "She's entertaining."

"She's dangerous."

"She's fragile." I swirled the whiskey in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. "And she'll learn."

Dante didn't look convinced. "She's not like the others."

I leaned back in my chair, my gaze flicking to the security footage displayed on the monitor behind him. The feed showed Serena in her room, pacing. Testing the window. Searching every corner for an escape.

I smirked. She was already playing into my hands.

"She's exactly like the others," I said. "She just doesn't know it yet."

---

Serena's POV

I woke up to the sound of the door unlocking.

I bolted upright, my heart pounding.

The handle turned, and I scrambled off the bed, my mind racing. Fight? Run?

The door swung open, and a man stepped inside. Not Lorenzo.

This man was older, with salt-and-pepper hair and sharp eyes. His suit was crisp, his expression unreadable.

"Good morning, Miss Castillo," he said smoothly.

I didn't respond.

"I am Marco. I'll be overseeing your needs while you're here."

"My 'needs'?" I bit out. "You mean my captivity?"

His lips barely twitched. "Breakfast is ready. I suggest you eat."

I folded my arms. "And if I don't?"

"Then you'll be hungry."

He turned and gestured toward the door.

My stomach was empty, but my pride screamed at me to refuse.

I hesitated for a long moment before finally stepping forward.

This wasn't obedience.

This was strategy.

For now, I would play along.

But I would never belong to them.

---

The hallway was silent as I followed Marco downstairs.

The house—mansion—was even larger than I had realized. Every corridor was lined with artwork, dark wood paneling, and chandeliers that cast flickering light across the marble floors.

I took everything in. Every doorway. Every possible exit.

The scent of coffee and something warm filled the air as we entered the dining room.

And there he was.

Lorenzo sat at the head of the long table, dressed in a crisp black shirt, the top buttons undone, revealing a hint of tattoos beneath. His wrist rested lazily on the arm of his chair, his fingers tapping against the glass of water in front of him.

His gaze lifted as I entered.

Sharp. Unreadable.

Dangerous.

"Sleep well?"

I ignored him, sliding into the chair as far from him as possible.

His lips twitched. "No answer?"

I picked up my fork, stabbing at the eggs on my plate.

"I take that as a no," he mused. "Shame. My bed is much more comfortable."

My grip tightened on the fork. "Go to hell."

He let out a soft chuckle. "I'll take you with me."

Something cold crawled down my spine.

I forced myself to focus on the food, on keeping my expression blank. I couldn't let him get under my skin.

Lorenzo leaned back, watching me with amusement. "You'll adjust, dolcezza."

"I won't."

"You will."

His certainty made me sick.

"You think you own me." I lifted my chin. "But you don't."

He smiled. Slowly. "We'll see."

And I knew, in that moment, that this was only the beginning.

Of a game I wasn't sure I could win.

---

Lorenzo's POV

Serena was fire.

She didn't cower. She didn't beg.

She fought.

And I wanted to break her.

Not all at once. No, that would be too easy.

I wanted to watch. To feel her struggle. To see the exact moment her defiance shattered.

I leaned forward, my voice dropping low. "You're mine now, Serena. The sooner you accept it, the easier this will be."

She glared at me, but beneath her anger, I saw it.

Fear.

Good.

I stood, stepping around the table until I was beside her chair.

She stiffened but didn't move.

I reached out, tracing a single finger down her arm.

She flinched.

Her reaction sent something dark curling in my chest.

"You'll learn, dolcezza." My voice was soft, almost gentle. "There's no way out."

Her breath hitched.

She still didn't look at me.

But I could feel her breaking.

Not yet.

Not fully.

But soon.

I leaned down, brushing my lips close to her ear.

"Welcome home."

She shook beneath my touch.

I smiled.

The game had begun.

And I never lost.

---