The First Cut

Serena's POV

The door to my room clicked shut behind me, but this time, I didn't rush to test the lock.

What was the point?

I was already beginning to understand the game Lorenzo was playing. He wanted me to fight, to struggle, to keep pushing until I realized there was no escape.

I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Instead, I sat on the edge of the massive bed, my hands gripping the silk sheets as my mind raced.

He had been so sure that I would break.

That I would accept my place at his side.

That would never happen.

I had spent my life being invisible, quiet, easy to control—but here, in his world, that would only make me a victim.

And I refused to be a victim.

A knock at the door made my body tense.

It wasn't Lorenzo. He wouldn't knock.

"Come in," I said cautiously.

The door opened, and a woman stepped inside.

She was tall, elegant, her dark hair twisted into a tight bun. A scar ran down the side of her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her black blouse.

"I'm Ava," she said, her voice clipped. "Lorenzo asked me to prepare you."

I frowned. "Prepare me for what?"

She set a neatly folded dress on the bed. "Dinner."

I glanced at the dress—deep red silk, expensive, designed to cling to my body like a second skin.

I scoffed. "I'm not playing dress-up for him."

Ava tilted her head. "Then you'll go in whatever you're wearing now."

I glanced down at my wrinkled clothes, still the same ones from when I had been taken.

I lifted my chin. "Fine."

Ava studied me, then let out a low chuckle. "You're not like the others."

Something in her tone made my stomach turn. "Others?"

"The women before you."

I went still.

She continued, her expression unreadable. "They fought at first. But in the end, they all—"

I cut her off. "I'm not them."

Her lips curved slightly. "We'll see."

Then she turned and left, locking the door behind her.

I let out a shaky breath, staring at the dress.

What happened to the others?

And why did I have the sickening feeling that I was about to find out?

---

Lorenzo's POV

I watched the clock.

She was late.

Dante sat across from me, arms folded, watching me watch her.

"She's testing you."

I smirked. "I know."

"She won't last," he said, sipping his whiskey. "She's too soft."

I let out a low chuckle. "Soft things still bleed."

The moment the words left my mouth, the doors to the dining hall opened.

And there she was.

Not in the dress I had sent.

But in the same clothes she had been taken in, wrinkled and defiant.

A statement.

The guards at the door tensed, waiting for my reaction.

But I only smiled.

Serena hesitated for the briefest second before stepping forward, her chin lifted.

She was afraid.

But she wasn't backing down.

Good.

I gestured to the seat beside me. "Sit."

She didn't move.

I arched a brow. "Unless you prefer to stand all night."

Her jaw clenched, but after a moment, she walked toward the table and took the seat farthest from me.

I chuckled.

Dante sighed. "This is going to be exhausting."

Serena ignored him, picking up the glass of water in front of her.

I watched her carefully.

I had given her a choice. Wear the dress, step into the role I had chosen for her. Or resist.

She had resisted.

For now.

But that would change.

Everything did.

---

Serena's POV

The silence stretched.

I focused on the food in front of me, refusing to acknowledge the way Lorenzo's eyes never left me.

"Tell me something, dolcezza," he said, his voice smooth, amused. "What exactly do you think you're fighting?"

I looked up, meeting his gaze. "You."

He smirked. "And how's that going for you?"

I gripped my fork tighter. "I'm still here."

His smirk deepened. "For now."

My stomach twisted.

Lorenzo didn't make empty threats.

I put my fork down. "What happened to the women before me?"

Dante stilled.

Ava, who had just entered with a bottle of wine, froze.

But Lorenzo?

Lorenzo just smiled.

"Some of them left," he said. "Some of them stayed."

I swallowed hard. "And the others?"

He leaned in, his gray eyes locking onto mine.

"The others?" His voice dropped, silk wrapped around steel. "They broke."

A chill crawled down my spine.

I pushed my chair back, standing. "I'm done."

A flick of his fingers, and two guards blocked the exit.

I whirled around. "You said I had a choice."

Lorenzo's smile was lazy. "You do."

I glanced at the guards, my heart hammering. "This doesn't look like a choice."

His gaze darkened. "You're free to leave the table, Serena. But you're not free to leave me."

I clenched my fists.

I could feel the eyes on me—Dante's, Ava's, the guards'.

Waiting. Watching.

If I backed down now, I would lose the little ground I had.

So instead, I turned my back on him and walked straight to the door.

The guards didn't move.

Neither did I.

A tense, suffocating silence filled the room.

Then, slowly, Lorenzo stood.

His footsteps echoed as he approached me.

Closer. Closer.

Until I could feel his presence behind me.

A slow, deliberate brush of fingers against my arm.

A whisper of warmth at my neck.

My breath hitched.

His voice was quiet, lethal. "You're playing with fire, dolcezza."

I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze.

"Then let me burn."

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes.

Then he stepped back, nodding at the guards.

They let me pass.

I didn't run.

I wouldn't run.

But as I walked away, I knew one thing for certain.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.

---

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