Chapter 7: Vittorio De Luca Loan Shark Office.

Vittorio’s POV

Outside the Bookstore

I sat in the driver’s seat of my red car, gloved hands resting on my knees, eyes locked on the window across the street.

The window was cracked open slightly.

She was inside. I could feel it not just in my chest, but in my cock.

The first time I met her had been a mistake. That kiss. But I couldn’t forget it. I couldn’t forget her.

Katarina.

She was talking to someone inside. Her voice drifted through the window soft and distant.

Soft yellow light bled through the curtains. I wondered if she was reading. Or crying. Or thinking about me.

I didn’t know which one turned me on more.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I muttered to myself.

But I didn’t leave. She hadn’t seen me … not really. Not from the bookstore as I watched her from my car. Not when she’d kissed me at the club. She hadn’t seen what I truly was.

But she would.

I clenched my jaw as the curtain shifted. A silhouette moved past slim, barefoot.

She was pacing. She always did that when she was anxious.

The memory hit me her mouth open, trembling, on her knees in front of me at the club. Her breath shaky. Her body responding even through her fear.

I growled under my breath and gripped the steering wheel until it creaked.

“She’s just a girl,” I whispered. “A distraction. Nothing more.”

But even now, in the dark, her scent haunted me.The sweat from fear and something sweet and purely hers.

That fucking scent made my cock throb in my jeans. I pressed my palm against it….it was hard. Lik a punishment.

“Not yet.”

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t touch her again until she begged.

The front door to the apartment building opened. A man stepped outside in a hoodie.

I relaxed slightly.

“She’s mine,” I whispered into the empty car.

For a moment, I imagined walking up those stairs. Knocking. Then gripping her by the throat and asking if she wanted to run again.

But I didn’t move.

I sat there watching her and breathing her in from across the street.

Eventually, the light went out and the window went dark.

I lit a cigarette with shaking hands and took a long drag.

“I’ll give her one more night,” I muttered. “Then I’ll take what’s mine.”

I started the engine and I didn’t glance back at the window.

She was already imprinted behind my eyes. I pulled away from the curb, the red car disappearing into the night. But somehow, I found myself driving and following her into the dark.

Mateo POV AT Katarina’s Apartment After She Fled

"Where the fuck is the girl?"

Scarface's boot slammed into the coffee table, sending broken plates and empty beer bottles crashing to the floor.

My heart pounded as I stepped between him and my father, who reeked of whiskey and desperation. His hands trembled as he stumbled back.

"She was here," my father stammered. "I swear she was just here..."

Scarface didn't care. He jerked his chin at the two goons beside him.

"Hold the pretty boy down."

Before I could react, strong arms grabbed me. One yanked my wrist behind my back while the other shoved me forward until my knees slammed into the cracked floorboards.

Pain exploded through my legs, but I clenched my jaw tight, refusing to scream.

My father scrambled to his feet, waving a stack of crumpled bills at Scarface.

"Here! Take it back!" he cried, tears and sweat streaming down his face. "Take the money! I don't want trouble!"

Scarface snatched the money and laughed coldly. He let the bills rain down over my father's head, slapping him across the face with a handful.

"You think this was about money?" Scarface stepped closer, shoving my father so hard he collapsed into the broken table. "We don't want your filthy fucking money."

He knelt down, grabbed my father's hair, and yanked his head back.

"We want the girl you promised," he spat. "The sexy little virgin."

My gut twisted hearing him talk about Kat that way.

Scarface gripped my father's chin, forcing his mouth open.

"You think you can fuck with Giordano?" he hissed.

Without warning, he smashed the butt of his gun across my father's face. Blood sprayed across the wall. My father crumpled to the floor, sobbing.

"Please!" he cried. "She was here! I swear! Don't kill me!"

Scarface glanced around the room. His sick eyes landed on my mother slumped on the stained couch, barely conscious, her blouse hanging off her skeletal frame.

"Maybe you need motivation," Scarface said.

"No..." I muttered, struggling against the men holding me.

"Don't touch her, you sick fuck!" I shouted.

But Scarface just laughed. He grabbed my mother by the hair and yanked her upright. Her eyes fluttered open—glassy, confused, too high to understand.

He ripped her blouse apart. Buttons scattered. Her pale breasts spilled out, covered in bruises and track marks.

She moaned softly—confused, pained.

"Pretty little junkie," Scarface muttered, unzipping his pants. He shoved her back onto the couch.

I thrashed harder. "NO!" I roared, but they shoved my face into the floor.

I heard it. Fabric tearing. My mother's weak whimpers. The disgusting grunts from Scarface as he forced himself on her.

Tears blurred my vision. I squeezed my eyes shut, fists clenched so tight my nails cut into my palms.

When he finished, he wiped himself on her torn blouse. She just lay there, broken.

Scarface turned back to me, grinning. "You ready to talk now?"

I lifted my head, blood dripping from my split lip. I glared at him with pure hatred.

And spat at his feet.

His smile faded.

He pulled out a hunting knife, the blade gleaming under the light.

"Let's see how much pain you can take."

He grabbed my left hand and forced it flat against the broken table.

"No!" I struggled, but they pinned me harder.

SLICE.

White-hot agony shot up my arm as he severed my pinky finger clean off. I screamed. Blood sprayed across the table.

My finger rolled off and landed in a puddle of whiskey and dirt.

Scarface leaned in close, his breath rancid. "You have twenty-four hours," he whispered. "Bring me the girl... or I kill you, your whore mother, and your useless father. Then I'll find your little sister and fuck her until she breaks."

He kicked my severed finger across the floor.

I gasped, vision going black from pain.

"I'll pay it back," I croaked. "Just give me time."

"You want to buy her back?" Scarface hissed. "Fine. Pay ten times what your father took. Ten times. Or we take her body and your lives."

Ten times the money? Impossible.

"I'll get the money," I said, blood dripping from my hand.

Scarface laughed and slapped me. "Time's ticking."

He nodded to his men. They let me go.

I collapsed, gasping. The door slammed. Their motorcycles roared outside.

I crawled to my mother and covered her with a blanket. She didn't respond.

I sat there, clutching my bleeding hand, shaking with rage.

I had twenty-four hours. Maybe less.

If I wanted to save my sister, I had to do something unthinkable.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I'd gotten from the streets—a number everyone whispered about but no one dared call.

The Devil's number.

Vittorio De Luca Loan Shark Office.

Katarina's POV - Liam's Apartment

"What the hell!"

I slammed the bathroom door so hard the walls trembled.I pressed my forehead to the cold wood, squeezing my eyes shut, trying not to break.

I just needed to wash it all off the dirt, the blood, the smell of my father’s betrayal still stuck to my skin. And here he was …Liam ….. He had been watching me. I'd felt his eyes on my body while I was in the shower. Burning and staring, even when I ducked under the water. Even when I turned away, hoping he would leave, I caught him peeking through the crack of the door.

He just stood there watching me through the crack like some twisted predator.

My hands shook as I grabbed the thin towel from the rack, wrapping it around my naked body.

I could still feel the sting of soap against my raw skin.

Bruises bloomed across my thighs. My legs ached deep from running, falling—from everything that had broken me in the last 24 hours.

I rubbed my arms roughly, trying to scrub off the feeling of his eyes, but it was too late. It was under my skin now.

I limped to the mirror, legs shaking.

That's when I saw it—a jagged gash on my elbow, raw and red. The skin was torn, blood crusted around it.

It Must've been from when I fell running from the cartel. Or maybe when Liam grabbed me too hard earlier.

The pain pulsed, sharp and hot under the fluorescent light.

I needed help. I needed to call Selena. I needed to get the hell out of here.

I was still wrapped in the damp towel when I cracked the door open, peeking out into the hallway.

There was no sign of Liam.

I moved fast, my bare feet slapping against the floor. The towel barely stayed up around my chest, barely covering my breasts as I ran toward the kitchen where I'd seen a landline earlier.

The apartment was too quiet silent in that way that made your ears ring. Like the building was holding its breath, waiting for something awful to happen.

The landline hung crooked on the wall in the kitchen the ancient, dirty kind that you had to punch the numbers into.

My fingers shook as I snatched it up. My heart was pounding so loudly it filled my ears.

I had no clothes and shoes, just a growing certainty that I wasn't safe here. Not even for another hour.

I had to remember Selena's number from memory.

Think, Katarina. THINK. Come on.

Sweat dripped down my back as I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my brain to work through the panic.

My mind went blank. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely think.

Numbers, numbers—what were the numbers?

Finally, they came to me. I punched the numbers in.

Please work. Please work.

The line clicked. A dial tone.

I clutched the towel tighter around myself with one hand, holding the phone with the other.

Each beep echoed loudly in the empty house.

Come on, come on, come on...

And then her sleepy voice crackled through: "Hello?"

I nearly collapsed with relief.

"Selena," I gasped, the words falling out of me in a rush. "Selena, listen to me. Something's wrong. Something's really, really wrong."

"Katarina?" Her voice sharpened instantly. "Where are you? What happened? Talk to me!"

I gripped the sticky plastic receiver so hard my fingers ached. The smells in the house made me want to gag: cheap cleaner, sweat, something burnt.

"I'm at Liam's," I choked out. "But he's not... he's not right, Sel. He's not who we thought he was."

"What do you mean not right?" she demanded, voice rising. "And why the hell are you at Liam's house? Kat…are you hurt?!"

"No…I mean….not yet," I stammered. "Selena, one minute he's sweet and nerdy, asking if I want tea, telling me to sleep... and the next.." I shuddered. "The next, he's someone else. Cold. Angry. Violent. His eyes... God, his eyes don't even look human sometimes."

The words tumbled out fast, messy.

Selena's breathing sharpened on the other end.“Kat... that sounds like DID. Dissociative Identity Disorder ,,,you remember that from class?The personality disorder? It’s real, and it’s serious. He could have... more than one side.”

I squeezed the phone tighter, my nails digging into the dirty plastic.

"I know. I know, Sel. I saw it. I saw it happen."

My legs were shaking so hard I slid down the wall, clutching the receiver to my ear.

"Listen to me carefully," Selena said, voice low and fierce. "You need to get out of there. Now. Come to my house. You're not safe."

Tears blurred my vision. My body wanted to run, but my brain screamed no.

"I can't," I whispered. "I can't, Sel. It's not just him."

My voice cracked, the truth bursting out of me: "My father... he sold me, Sel. Sold me to the Mafia."

Selena didn't breathe. I could feel it. The silence stabbing through the line.

"I managed to escape, but... they're out there. Hunting me. The Cartels... they're waiting for me."

I heard a small, broken sound escape from Selena..her heart shattering right there.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh my fucking God, Kat..."

I wiped my eyes roughly, fighting the sob building in my throat.

"I can't leave, Sel." My voice cracked. "If I run now... they'll find me. They'll kill me."

Selena finally found her voice, and it broke into a thousand pieces. "No, Kat, no, you listen to me. I'm coming to get you. I'll find you. I swear to God, I'll tear down the whole fucking city if I have to!"

Her voice cracked on the last word, thick with tears. "You're my best friend. My sister. I can't lose you."

My throat closed up. "I know," I whispered, voice shaking.

Selena's breathing was ragged, panicked, furious. "Kat, please. Just hide somewhere. Stay locked up until you can run. Don't trust him. Not any side of him."

"I know, I'll try," I whispered.

I wiped my eyes roughly with the back of my hand, swallowing the sob building in my throat.

I had to find Mateo. I had to get away. Somehow.

I opened my mouth to say more…

But the floorboards creaked behind me.

My blood turned to ice. I turned my head slowly.

Liam stood there. His body was stiff. His fists clenched at his sides. His brown eyes were darker than I'd ever seen…cold, hollow, dead.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

His voice wasn't Liam's. It was low and dangerous now.

"Who said you could use the phone?"

My whole body locked up. The receiver slipped from my hand and clattered against the wall, the call with Selena cutting off instantly.

The sound of the receiver hitting the wall…the sharp crack of plastic..seemed to snap something inside Liam.

He stumbled back, hands twitching, chest heaving like he couldn't breathe.

I watched in frozen horror as his whole face shifted. His body sagged. His eyes softened. He looked... confused and scared.

"Katarina?" His voice was high, nervous. "D-did you hurt yourself? I heard a noise. Are you okay? You need to be careful. I can get you tea... I'll fix it..."

He stepped closer, concerned now.

"You fell when you were running earlier," he said softly. "Scraped your elbow."

I froze.

I hadn't told him that.

Tears prickled behind my eyes. I didn't know which Liam I was talking to. I didn't know which Liam was standing in front of me…the boy who made tea or the monster who might snap my neck.

I forced a smile so tight it hurt. My fingers dug into the towel.

"I'm fine," I lied, my voice barely a whisper.

Liam's head twitched to the side..a sudden jerk…something inside him breaking loose again.

I stood there, barefoot, half-naked, with no way out.

If this Liam slipped away... I was dead.

I smiled wider, teeth aching.

Survive the night, Katarina.

Or die trying.

Vittorio’s POV, One Of Vittorio’s luxurious mansion.

Porca puttana! Mother Fucker!, the water scalding hot as it poured over my body.

My teeth ground together as I gripped my hard cock, stroking to and fro with furious, punishing jerks my meat bouncing off the water as my cock was about to burst with pleasure. My balls were swollen and rock hard like nothing I have felt before.

She was in my head. Burning me alive. Distracting me.

Katarina Delgado. The feel of her soft, trembling mouth consuming mine…The way her thick ass brushed against my lap sending electfying shocks to my dick when she stumbled forward...

The wild, terrified look in her soft brown eyes.

It was fucking seared into my brain.

No woman had ever made me wake up hard, desperate, aching like a fucking animal.

No woman, not in my whole cursed life, had ever made me feel like this.Except for her, Fiorella.

A memory I never wanted to resurrect."

I pumped my hand, going faster and growling low in my throat, the slap of wet skin against skin filling the steam-thick air.

My muscles tensed, cords of steel under my skin, the veins in my forearm were popping as I squeezed harder.

I slammed my hips forward into my own hand, imagining it was her tight pussy squeezing me, her soft whimpers filling my ears.

I grunted, almost snarling.

"Bastarda," I cursed in a low breath, my abs tightening, the muscles in my legs locking up.

I came hard, shooting against the slick tile, my whole body shuddering with the force of it.

"Porca troia," I growled in Italian under my breath.

Fucking bitch. Fucking angel. Fucking beautiful, dangerous little bitch.

I braced myself against the wall, my heart hammering.

Steam curled around me, a heavy, suffocating cloud.

I had to find her.

No woman had ever done this to me since Fiorella. Not until her.

I stood there for a moment longer, breathing hard, feeling the rage swirl hotter inside me.

She had no idea who she was running from. No idea the kind of man she had awakened.

When I caught her and I would catch her. I wasn’t just going to fuck her. I was going to ruin her.

I stepped out of the shower, yanking a towel around my waist.

My skin steamed under the open air, the light catching every hard cut of my abs, my chest, my arms.

I didn’t bother putting a shirt on.

Let them see. Let them know exactly who owned this fucking city.

I headed down the marble staircase, water dripping from my hair, each step echoing like a war drum through the giant house.

Two of my men were waiting — Ghost and Franco.

They straightened the second they saw me, stationed on either side of the main hall like statues.

No one spoke. The silence was heavier than a loaded gun.

In the far corner, hunched over a sleek black laptop, was Pietro.

The twitchy little tech genius was already typing furiously, tapping at the keyboard like his life depended on it. It might.

I walked past my men without looking at them, the towel slung low on my hips.

The air thickened with tension.

Franco flinched slightly under my stare, and I smirked coldly. "Pietro," I barked.

The techie jumped, knocking over his coffee cup.

He scrambled up, clutching the laptop to his chest, his wide brown eyes flicking nervously to the wet lines of my body, the muscles, the scars, the raw masculine power.

Pathetic. But useful. I jerked my chin once.

"Come." Pietro rushed over, nearly tripping over himself.

He stood trembling a few feet away, laptop clutched like a shield.

He was already pink in the face, stealing glances at my bare chest when he thought I wasn't looking.

The pathetic little bitch was in love with me. I could smell it on him like a sickness.

I let him look.

"Brief him," I snapped at Franco without looking. He knew what I meant, I had informed him about finding Katarina.

Franco cleared his throat, voice rough.

"The target is Katarina Delgado," he said. Brown eyes. Brunette. "

Pietro’s hands shook harder. I could smell his nervous sweat from here, sharp and sour.

He adjusted his glasses, nodding frantically.

Franco continued. " Last seen at Massimo's club.

I watched Pietro absorb every word, his fingers already moving on the keyboard, pulling up city maps, traffic cams, and facial recognition databases.

Good. Fear made him fast.

I prowled closer, standing over him. He shrank into himself, but he didn’t stop working.

Smart dude.

"Pietro," I said calmly, voice slicing through the air like a blade.

"I want a full trace."

He swallowed hard, nodding so fast his glasses slid down his nose.

"Find the girl," I said. "Track her movements. Her family. Her friends. I want everything."

Pietro fumbled for his tablet, his hands shaking slightly.

"Yes, Don De Luca," he breathed.

I turned to Ghost, who stood rigid, sweat glistening at his temple.

"Go to Massimo," I ordered.

"Rip the fucking information out of him if you have to. Get his surveillance footage, his staff records, anything. Anything that touches Katarina Delgado."

Ghost nodded hard, fists clenched. "We'll have everything on her by midnight."

I stepped closer, crowding his space, until he could smell the soap and heat still clinging to my skin. I stared at him for a long moment, letting the silence drag.

Midnight was too slow. Way too fucking slow.

I wanted her back under my hand. Under my control. Now.

"If you fail," I said quietly, my voice almost tender, "I’ll make sure you feel every second you wasted."

Ghost swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead.

I turned back to Pietro, who was staring at me again, his eyes flickering lower, his breath shallow.

I smirked coldly. "Find her," I said again, voice like a death sentence. "Or I’ll find you."

Pietro flushed bright red and ducked his head, already tapping furiously on his tablet.

Katarina Delgado didn’t understand yet. She belonged to me now. And I would tear the whole fucking city apart to get her.

The fucking ache in my cock that hadn’t gone away even after jerking off like a fucking animal in the shower.

I needed a body.

"Franco," I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut bone.

He jumped to attention.

"Bring me a soft, stupid girl who knows how to kneel and suck," I said coldly, my voice dripping with venomous heat. Something I can fuck until I forget her face."

"Now."

Franco hesitated for half a second, A stupid mistake.

I stepped toward him slowly, deliberately.

"You heard me," I growled low, the rage leaking through my control.

"Something young. Something soft. Something desperate to please."

Franco nodded so fast he nearly tripped over himself, already reaching for his phone.

I turned back toward the windows, the city lights burning through the night like fire.

She would be mine again soon.

But until then...

I needed to fuck this hardness out of my system. Hard. Fast. Without mercy.