LILA POV

Either I had the worst hangover of my life, or I was on the verge of dying. Only a massive amount of alcohol or death could make a person feel this awful. My head pounded, every heartbeat hammering against my skull.

Nausea churned in my stomach, forcing me to take small, shallow breaths. Even breathing too fast felt like it could make me vomit violently. My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth, and my throat felt as if I had swallowed sand. I was completely dry, my mouth unable to produce even a drop of saliva. I felt like absolute crap.

I moved my tongue to find some relief and realized why swallowing felt impossible my mouth tasted like vile, disgusting ass. The taste only fueled the nausea in my gut.

I tried opening my eyes, but a cold dread settled over me, making my skin crawl. My body ached all over, screaming that something terrible had happened. I kept my eyes closed, hoping it was a lingering nightmare. But when I opened them and saw the gray concrete wall, I knew this was reality.

Ice cold dread crept up my legs, along my spine, and into the back of my neck. The rough sheets against my skin confirmed it these were not my expensive silk sheets. My fingers clutched the coarse fabric, trying to remember what happened... how I got here. That's when I saw the yellowed rag I was wearing. It seemed like an old nightgown from decades ago. Where were my clothes?

"Welcome to Hell..."

The voice thundered inside my head, paired with a dark smile I recognized. Could it really be him? After all this time...?

"Nikolai," I whispered, unsure. I remembered Nikolai smile warm, kind not this wicked, cold grin. It couldn't be him.

I scanned the grim, empty room. Concrete walls, nothing on them, nothing but a bed and a chair. Cold, damp, lifeless. My gaze shifted as I heard air escaping from a tube. A hidden door slid open, perfectly camouflaged until now.

Pain twisted my gut as I sat up, pressing against the headboard. My heartbeat raced. And then I saw him.

"Nikolai?"

He smiled, and hope flared like fireworks inside me. He hadn't left.

But as he stepped into the light, I froze. His eyes were black orbs of hate, not the brown warmth I remembered. My heart plummeted.

"What's going on?" I asked, my back pressed against the headboard.

He stepped closer, hands clutching a box, and the light revealed him fully. His hair was grey, shaved at the sides, longer on top. A five o'clock shadow darkened his jawline. The familiar thick eyebrows curved slightly, and a crescent-shaped scar cut across his right eyebrow down to his cheek.

"Hello, Lila," he said, a wicked smile curling his lips.

A shiver ran up my spine. That low, husky voice was unforgettable.

"What is going on?" I whispered, staring. Apart from the scar and the dark eyes, he was breathtaking Nikolai.

"First of all, let me introduce myself," he said, placing the box on the bed and holding out his hand.

I looked down, then back at his face. "Why introduce yourself? I already know you."

He smiled knowingly. "You don't know me, Miss Falcone."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're the man who broke my heart, left without a word, and now... kidnapped me?"

He stepped closer, his dark gaze chilling me. "My name is Nico. Nico Moretti. Nikolai was my twin brother."

I gasped, frozen, unable to look away. His black eyes trapped me.

"What's the matter, Lila? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I... Is this some sort of joke?" I whispered.

"Believe me, Miss Falcone, it is not a joke."

Miss Falcone. Nikolai never would have said that. The bitterness in the name scared me.

"I'm telling the truth. I didn't know," I whispered. "Nikolai told me his surname was Romano."

Nico's grip tightened on my neck, pushing my head against the headboard. His anger radiated.

"You knew he was a Moretti. How could you not know he had a twin brother?"

"He told me... his surname was Romano," I said, struggling to breathe.

He released me, stepping back. I gasped and rubbed my neck.

"You're lying."

"No. I'm not. His name is Nikolai Romano, not Moretti."

He froze, eyes narrowing. "Is?"

"Yes. Nikolai Romano."

He turned, grabbed the chair, and sat, staring me down. "I can see your family taught you well."

"I have no idea what's going on," I sobbed.

He leaned back. "I see you're playing ignorant. Don't think it will work."

"I'm not. I don't know who you are or why I'm here."

"I already told you. I'm Nikolai's twin brother."

"And I told you... his surname isn't Moretti."

His patience thinned. "I'm not known for patience, Miss Falcone. Forget the ignorance. Stop wasting my time."

"I'm telling the truth," I cried, tears falling. "Nikolai said his surname was Romano. He never mentioned a twin brother."

"I don't believe you," he said.

"Why would I lie?"

"You're in quite the predicament. Humanity can make us do anything to survive, even lie."

"I'm not lying," I whispered, sobbing harder. "What do you want from me? Why am I here?"

Suddenly, he jerked upright, chair skidding across the floor.

"You are here because you couldn't keep your filthy hands off my brother. Someone must pay for what was taken from my family. That someone... is you."

"Please, I don't know what you mean," I whispered.

"Cut the crap! Stop playing games!"

"I'm not! I'm not playing games!"

He leaned closer, fury blazing. "You fucking killed my brother! Because of you, we had to bury Nikolai!"

My heart stopped. My mind froze.

"What do you mean I killed your brother?" I whispered.

"You weren't the one to pull the trigger, but you might as well have been."

"No... no. You're wrong," I stammered.

"Excuse me?"

"You're wrong. He's not dead."

"Then who did I bury six months ago?"

I shook my head, trying to process. The day Nikolai disappeared, I never imagined he could be dead.

"Please tell me you're lying. Please, this is a joke, right?" I moved closer on my knees. "Nico, tell me it's not true."

He stared, unreadable, then jerked his hand away and stepped back.

"You"he pointed"better cut your bullshit now, or you will regret it."

Before I could respond, he stepped out and the door slammed shut.

My body froze. My mind blank. Nikolai... dead? And why did Nico blame me? What did he plan to do next?

NICO POV

What in the ever.loving fuck was that?

I couldn't completely process what had just happened. I stood there, staring at the damn door, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

At first, I thought for sure she was playing games, trying to trick me. It made sense. Being a Falcone, one of the most powerful families in New York, her father would have prepped her on these things, taught her how to handle herself when things got tough.

But now? I wasn't so sure. The way she reacted the expression on her face when I told her Nikolai was dead one couldn't fake that. Either she was telling the truth, or she was one hell of an actress.

Our families had never crossed paths until Nikolai's death. They knew nothing of the outfit and clearly underestimated us by thinking they could get away with murdering one of our own. They had no clue what it meant to be a powerful Mafia family. It wasn't just about ruling and throwing weight around. It wasn't a motherfucking gang dabbling in drugs or gambling, where your stupid, trigger happy entourage could save your ass.

Being Mafia was first and foremost about family, loyalty, protecting your own, obeying rules, and carrying consequences if you didn't. We didn't ruin and rule for fun or a power trip. We fought, conquered, and earned every luxury our lifestyle offered. Nothing came easy. Our wealth and power didn't fall out of thin air. We earned it.

The streets of Manhattan had been ours for years. Everyone knew not to fuck with the Moretti. Apparently, the Falcones didn't get the memo. Falcone thought because he owned Falcone Resources, he could go around killing whoever he wanted. Now, because of their ignorance, she had to pay the price. Why her? Because it all started with her.

If she hadn't clawed her way into my brother's life, he'd still be here. My father would still be here. And I wouldn't be stuck with a responsibility that was never meant for me.

I straightened my suit jacket and turned to Damon, who had been watching everything on the monitor.

"She's lying," he stated firmly.

"I know."

"Romano," Damon scoffed. "Fucking lying slut. Does she really think we'll fall for her bullshit? There's no way she didn't know who he really was. He was a Moretti, for Christ's sake."

"Maybe that's it. Maybe they figured out who he was, felt threatened by our family, and decided to take him out."

"They'd be right to feel threatened. But now all they did was sign every member of their family's death warrant."

I let out a breath. "Calm down, Damon. I told you earlier you need to keep your temper intact...and vanity," I added in a whisper, which Damon didn't hear.

"I know. Sorry. But the fact that she's underestimating us with her bullshit just riles me up." He turned back to the monitor. "Look at her with her fake fucking tears. She's one hell of an actress, I'll give her that. That was an Oscar-winning performance."

I pulled my palm down my face, frustration pulsing through my veins, making my muscles twitch.

Damon sighed. "I just can't believe Nikolai, of all people, didn't realize what her family was capable of."

I snapped my gaze up at him. "The Falcones are one of the most powerful families in the US, if not the world, Damon."

"Exactly. So how could Nikolai have been so stupid as to underestimate them? Did he really think he could fuck the rich American girl and not carry the consequences?"

"Enough!" My voice boomed through the room, slamming against the walls.

Damon stared at me with widened eyes. I took a deep breath, struggling to keep my rage contained. "We don't know what happened. All we know is the Falcones had Nikolai murdered."

I rounded the table and walked up behind Damon, staring at the monitor. "But I'll get to the truth. I'll crack her wide open and extract every goddamn secret she has," I vowed while watching the blonde woman cry into her palms.

As she cried, her entire body was shaking. Did I care? No. She deserved all the panic and fear she was experiencing. In fact, she deserved more than that. She deserved pain too which, in time, she would get...by my hand.

"You left the box in there, man," Damon said, looking back at me.

I smiled. "I know."

Just then, she lifted her head and spotted the plain brown box I had placed on the bed earlier. My intention was to make her open it while I was still in the room. Unfortunately, her lies forced me to leave, because I was on the verge of choking those lies along with her last breath.

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I continued to watch, knowing that sooner or later her curiosity would get the better of her. Right now, she was staring at the box like it was a trap. But the human mind is a wonderful place. Recklessness always accompanies curiosity hence the saying: curiosity killed the cat. Now this cat was one I couldn't wait to kill.

"How long do you think it's going to take for her to budge?" Damon tapped a finger on the table, barely containing his frustration.

"Relax, brother. Just watch."

While she wiped her face with the old rag she was wearing, she settled a little, crossing her legs beneath her while continuing to stare at the box. When Damon brought her in almost twenty-four hours ago, she looked like every other spoiled, rich girl expensive designer blouse, jeans, heels.

Besides being unconscious, she looked worth more than she really was. That's why I instructed Doc to strip her of wealth she didn't deserve, dressing her in two-dollar fabric that was old and tattered.

It hasn't even been twenty four hours yet, and already she looked like she'd been through Hell. She looked pathetic, poor, and broken. I hadn't even begun to exact my revenge, and already she seemed close to crumbling. But I wasn't surprised. Nikolai liked women modest and reserved a woman who lacked a voice and a spine.

A woman who was born and bred to submit, and be nothing more than a pretty face to complement the man's image. I, on the other hand, preferred the more complex kind the type of woman who would get my blood boiling and my adrenaline pumping.

I watched patiently as Lila still stared at the box. Finally, she reached out, but then pulled back. I almost laughed at her cowardly behavior. Not something I expected from a Falcone.

"She's too scared, man," Damon muttered, pulling his hands through his hair. "She's not going to fucking open it."

"You need to work on your patience, little brother. Patience is a virtue."

"Oh God, you know I hate it when you say shit like that."

I lifted a brow. "Shit like what?"

He glanced my way. "Shit like, 'patience is a virtue.' You act like a fucking fifty-year-old with all the smart shit you like to say."

I snorted. "Smart shit? It's idioms, Damon."

"I don't give a fuck what it is. It's stupid."

I scoffed at him, ignoring the fact that my little brother was trying to act all cool with his slang, his ridiculous walk, and that god-awful handshake with his buddies. It was embarrassing.

Lila moved, and I glanced at the monitor. When she reached out and finally picked up the box, adrenaline surged through my veins. I leaned on the table next to Damon, fully focused. I wanted to see her face when she opened it, realizing this wasn't a dream, but a goddamn nightmare.

"Open it, sunshine." I gripped the edges of the table, feeling thrill and frustration burn inside me.

Damon snorted. "Devil woman? Nice. Suits this bitch perfectly."

I ignored him, willing Lila to open the box.

Slowly, she pulled the white string. As it fell to the sides, she leaned back, staring at the box like something might jump out.

"Open it," I muttered, leaning closer to the monitor, fighting the urge to force her hand with my gun.

She bit her thumbnail. Thoughts raced through her mind-some telling her to leave it alone, others urging her to open it.

Finally, curiosity won.

As she opened the box, my spine tingled with expectation. God, it felt like I was seconds away from a fucking hard-on.

She looked down. I knew exactly when she noticed. Her face turned ghostly pale just before she screamed and scrambled off the bed, falling against the wall.

"Oh my God," I heard her voice through the speakers. "Jesus Christ! What the fuck is this?" she screamed between tears.

It was beautiful. Poetic, almost watching her crack, seeing her mind spin in a thousand directions. Finally, after all these months of planning and plotting, the time had come. The time to exact revenge I vowed against the Falcone. She had taken from me what I could never get back. The only way I'd be free of this burden was spilling blood...her blood.

Damon glanced at me. "Game on, brother."

I smiled, tasting victory on my tongue. "Game on."

LILA POV

"Oh my God."

I rocked back and forth, clutching my knees against my chest, my face buried in my arms. I didn't want to look up. I couldn't. What the fuck was happening? Who were these people? And why the fuck was there a severed finger in that motherfucking box?

Better yet, whose finger was that?

No, I didn't want to know. I just wanted to wake up and realize this was a nightmare. But the longer I sat there, the more I realized it was real. I'd been kidnapped. Nikolai was dead. And his twin brother had just left me a human finger in a box.

How could the Nikolai I knew be part of this family?

The Nikolai I knew... Did I really know him? Was he pretending to be someone he wasn't? Judging by what Nico had told me, it seemed so. I didn't even know his real surname, let alone his family.

Tears streamed down my face as my mind spun in a thousand directions. What did they plan to do to me? Kill me? Torture me? Hurt me? Did my family even know I was missing yet?

Thinking of my mom, dad, and brother had me shaking. For the first time since leaving home for Manhattan, I regretted it. If I had stayed home like my dad wanted, they would have known I'd been kidnapped. But because I tried to survive on my own, I might never see my family again. I might be dead by the time they realized I was missing.

My body ached, my lungs pleading for air while my tears choked every breath. I hated crying. I cried for weeks after thinking Nikolai had left me. I couldn't believe I was heartbroken over a guy I didn't even know for two months. We only had sex a few times. But I was in love. He didn't care who my family was, which was rare. Guys swarmed me for my surname, for our wealth and yachts. But Nikolai... he didn't give a fuck. And that's why I gave him my heart.

Nikolai was gone one day, whispering sweet words, then gone the next. I thought he had moved on. I never understood what happened. Now I did. Nico made it clear: Nikolai was dead... and he thought I had something to do with it. Absurd.

The pain stabbed through my chest, causing more tears and sobs.

Fuck!

I didn't even know if Nico was telling the truth. But he looked like he believed I was responsible. Nikolai... dead.

The thought cracked my chest open from the inside. My body slid down the wall. I landed on my side, crying into my arms. Shaking and cold, I couldn't stop the grief.

I had no idea how long I lay there, thinking about the horrors ahead. Nico and his family held me responsible for Nikolai's death why, I didn't know but fear pulsed through me. I shivered like it was minus twenty degrees.

I wasn't naïve. I read the news, knew the world was cruel. Girls got kidnapped, sold, raped, murdered... I just never thought I'd be one of them.

For the first time, I felt thankful for my father's wealth and power. It meant a better chance they could find me. But how long before they realized I was gone?

An image flashed in my mind. I lifted my head, staring at the bed. The box was still there, but the finger had rolled off. There was something on it something familiar.

I pushed myself up, wiped the tears, and stared at the bed. Dear Lord, please don't let it be what I think it is.

"Get a grip, Lila," I muttered, pulling my tangled, dirty hair. I bent my knees, steadying my feet, palms flush against the wall. My heart pounded. My blood rushed. Even my ears rang.

I lifted my feet, inching closer to see. I couldn't bear a full view yet.

A few steps more, hands on the mattress, neck stretched... I saw it. A finger.

A fucking finger!

My stomach twisted. Not because it was severed, but because of the object on it a ring. Platinum with a gold F in a black square. Every man in the Falcone family wore one.

"No." I shook my head, pinching my eyes shut. "No. Please God, no," I cried, pressing my face into the sheets.

"Recognize the ring?"

I jerked up, looking at the wall where the voice came from.

"Does it look familiar?"

I recognized the voice.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"I bet that tiny little mind of yours is spinning trying to figure out whose finger is laying on the floor."

I stepped backward toward the wall, scanning the room.

"You recognize the ring, don't you?"

I glanced up. "What kind of twisted game are you playing?"

"It's a game called cat and mouse."

"And you think I'm the mouse?"

"By the way your body is shivering against that wall, your fear vibrating through every bone...yes, you are."

I closed my eyes, cursing my weakness.

"So tell me, little mouse, do you recognize the ring?"

Gathering courage, I pushed off the wall. "Yes. I recognize the ring, you fucking psycho!"

"Good."

A hiss of air from the wall made me lurch back. I regretted insulting him.

The door opened. It was the same man I met earlier. My heart ached, my body trembled. He looked so much like him Nikolai...

Nico stepped in, bold and debonair in a black suit. Midnight hair perfectly styled, chiseled jaw with a short beard. Sophistication, power...hate in his dark eyes.

He straightened his shirt sleeves. "Did you like my gift, Miss Falcone?"

I stared into the black depths, noticing the scar above his right eye.

"You already seem pissed off to me," I whispered.

He smirked wickedly. "Believe me, Miss Falcone, you haven't seen me pissed off...yet."

He stepped back, letting me breathe.

"Why did you put that finger in a box for me?" I asked.

"It's a warning."

"A warning for what?"

"The better question: a warning to whom."

I studied his face. I wouldn't fall for his coaxing.

"That ring, Miss Falcone, belonged to the man your father hired to kill my brother."

I gasped softly.

"You seem surprised."

"My father didn't hire anyone."

"Are you sure? How much do you know about your father's business? How he runs his empire?"

I didn't answer. I knew nothing. All I wanted was art, drawing, and my imagination.

He smiled. "As I suspected. You don't know a thing. Let me enlighten you." He paced, rubbing his chin. "Your father has a legion of men. He sits on his throne while others do his dirty work. In this case, killing my brother. The hired murderer got a paycheck...and a ring."

I shook my head. "Why would my father want Nikolai dead?"

"That, little mouse, is for you to answer."

"There's just no motive," I muttered.

His gaze moved over me. "I see plenty of motive right here in front of me."

"My dad never met Nikolai. So why would he want him dead?"

"You really don't know why, do you?"

"I swear, Nico. I have no idea. You have it all wrong. My father didn't have Nikolai killed. There's no motive."

"That you know of."

Silence enveloped us. My heart pounded.

"You said the finger was a warning for someone. I take it that someone is me?" I asked softly.

"Oh no, Miss Falcone. Having you trapped here is warning enough for now."

"For now?"

He only smiled, darkness in his eyes.

"The warning is for your father, Lila."

"Then why give it to me?"

He stepped closer, scent overwhelming. "Who do you think will receive the rest of that hand?"

"My father," I whispered.

Nico laughed, maniacally.

"You think he's coming now? That he knows I have you?" He traced my jaw. "I wanted time with you. That hand won't be sent for seventy-two hours."

My heart stopped. My lungs froze.

"What do you think I'm capable of in seventy-two hours, Lila?"

It wasn't a question. It was a threat.

Abruptly, he stepped back. "Now, let's start with a few rules. This" he waved "is your new home. Live it, breathe it, get used to it. The sooner, the better."

I crossed my arms. "How long do you plan on keeping me here?"

A wicked grin. "Oh, Miss Falcone, until they carry you out...in a body bag."