The silence is deafening when you're waiting to die.

I've been alone for hours now, ever since Lilly left this morning after patching me up. Her fingers were gentle as she taped gauze over my bloodied socket, a stark contrast to the violence that put me in this condition. She even took time to extract each ceramic shard from my arm before wrapping it in clean bandages, humming softly the entire time.

The mattress beneath me is stiff with dried blood, my blood. I shift slightly, and pain lances through my skull, a white-hot reminder of this morning’s "lesson." The agony is relentless, throbbing in time with my heartbeat. No amount of the pills Lilly left me seems to touch it.

I hate feeling this alone. The isolation is almost worse than the pain. Almost.

My fingers trace the edge of the gauze covering my eye socket, and I wince. Part of me still can't believe this is real. That Lilly, the woman I loved, the woman I trusted, could do this to me. But here we are.

I stare at the concrete ceiling with my remaining eye, counting the pipes again to keep myself sane. One, two, three... I lose count somewhere in the twenties as another wave of pain crashes over me. My breath hisses through clenched teeth as I ride it out.

The worst part isn't the physical agony. It's knowing she'll be back. That this basement, this bloodstained bed, this chain around my ankle, this is my life now. For how long? Days? Weeks? Years? Forever?

A sound from upstairs freezes my blood. The door. The creak is unmistakable, sending my heart into a panicked gallop against my ribs.

Footsteps follow, but they're different this time. Hesitant. Cautious. Not Lilly's confident stride that I've come to dread. These steps pause between each advance, like someone trying not to be heard.

I push myself up on my elbows, wincing as pain shoots through my skull. The gauze over my ruined eye socket feels suddenly tighter as fear constricts every muscle in my body.

The basement door opens with a slow, deliberate creak. I hold my breath, my remaining eye straining toward the staircase.

A silhouette appears at the top of the stairs, tall, elegant, with what looks unmistakably like a gun held out in front of her. The figure descends slowly, each step careful and measured.

When she reaches the bottom, light catches her face, and I recognize her immediately. Lara Rosso. The mafia woman. Lilly's "Aunty Lara."

She gasps when she sees me, her perfect composure cracking for just a moment as her eyes take in my condition, the bloody gauze, the chain, the stained mattress. The gun in her hand wavers slightly.

I gasp too, hope and terror colliding in my chest. This woman is dangerous, unpredictable, but she's not Lilly. She's my only chance.

"Lara," I croak, my voice raw from screaming earlier. "Please. Help me."

Her eyes narrow as she scans the basement, taking in every detail with clinical precision. The gun doesn't lower, but she takes another step closer, her face a mask of conflicting emotions.

"Fuck," Lara hisses, running a hand through her sleek hair. Her eyes dart around the basement one more time before landing back on me. "So it really was Lilly."

The way she says it, part confirmation, part disbelief, makes my heart race. She knows. Or at least suspected.

"You have to help me," I plead, my voice cracking. I try to sit up straighter, ignoring the stab of pain that shoots through my skull. "Please, Lara. She's going to kill me. Maybe not today, but eventually."

Lara sighs heavily, the sound filled with annoyance rather than sympathy. She holsters her gun with practiced efficiency, then approaches my bed with cautious steps.

"Look, kid, I get that you're one of the few good men out there. I've watched how you treated my nieces, how you care for them. I've seen it."

Hope flares in my chest like a match struck in darkness. She sees it. She understands.

"But I'm family first," she continues, her voice hardening. "Always have been, always will be."

The hope dies as quickly as it came. I feel tears welling in my good eye, hot and desperate.

"But she killed Rose," I choke out, my voice breaking. "Your own niece. Lilly murdered her."

Lara exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is really all my fault," she mutters under her breath, barely audible.

I seize on this, pushing myself up despite the pain shooting through my skull. "She pretended to be Rose while she tortured Evelyn," I press on. "She set everything up. Don't you see? Lilly is the reason your niece is dead."

Lara looks at me, her blue eyes suddenly cold and exasperated. "So what, kid? You think that means I'm going to side with you?"

"But I didn't do shit!" I protest, my voice rising with desperation. "I'm innocent in all this!"

"Look," she says, crossing her arms. "Life isn't always fair. And you don't know it, but I'm very rarely this kind to people."

She turns away from me, pacing the small basement. Suddenly, she kicks a small table, sending it crashing against the wall.

"I can't believe that little fucking brat played me!" she growls, genuine anger flashing across her face. "Unbelievable!"

I watch her, unsure if her rage is directed at Lilly or me or both. She runs her hands through her hair again, messing up the perfect styling.

"She always was the smart one," Lara mutters, more to herself than to me. "Rose was wild, impulsive. But Lilly... calculating. Methodical." She shakes her head. "I should have seen it."

My hope rekindles slightly. "Then help me," I plead. "You know this is wrong."

Lara's eyes snap back to me, suddenly sharp and focused. "Wrong? Kid, I've done things that would make your skin crawl. I'm not exactly the moral authority here."

Lara's expression hardens as she strides toward me, gun suddenly back in her hand. Before I can react, the cold barrel presses against my forehead, metal digging into my skin.

"Listen," she says, voice eerily calm. "If I kill you right here, right now, it solves a lot of my family's problems."

"What?" I gasp, my eye widening in terror.

"You being missing is already about to cause a media storm," she continues, applying more pressure with the gun. "Think about it, two women die tragically, and now a man goes missing? If they recover your body, at least they'll have closure. I can pin this murder on someone else entirely."

My body betrays me, trembling uncontrollably as the barrel digs deeper into my skin. This is it. This is how I die, chained to a bed in a basement, executed by her mafia aunt.

Suddenly, I hear the door upstairs creak open. Quick footsteps follow, racing down the stairs with familiar urgency. Lilly appears, her face contorting with rage when she sees the gun pressed against my head.

"Aunty," she shouts, "what are you doing to my boyfriend?"

Lara's whole body seems to deflate with another massive sigh. She stomps her foot against the concrete floor in frustration, the sound echoing through the basement.

"I'm trying to clean up your fucking mess!" she snaps, gun still trained on me.

My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my ruined eye socket. Lilly approaches us with zero hesitation, showing no fear of the weapon as she positions herself directly between me and the gun.

"You are not killing my boyfriend," she states, her voice cold and definitive.

"Move, Lilly," Lara growls, but Lilly stands her ground, shielding me with her body.

"No." The single word contains more steel than I've ever heard from her. "He's mine."

Lara lowers her gun slowly, her jaw clenched tight as she stares at Lilly with the kind of anger I've only seen from parents pushed to their breaking point.

"Lilly," she hisses through gritted teeth. "You're making everything really difficult right now."

I watch the standoff between them, my heart still hammering in my chest. Lilly doesn't budge, her body a human shield between me and Lara's weapon. She crosses her arms defiantly, her posture relaxed despite the gun that was just pointed at us.

"Fine!" Lara finally explodes, throwing her hands up. "You want to keep him like a pet? Fine! But we're doing this my way then."

My stomach drops at how easily she's giving in. This can't be good.

"How so?" Lilly asks, her voice calm and measured.

Lara holsters her gun with a sharp click. "My old boss set up a special cage at La Reale for her husband if he ever tried to run away again. It's like this basement," she gestures around us with distaste, "but actually livable. Luxury accommodations with proper security. She never had to use it, so it's sitting empty."

Lilly's posture softens immediately. "That sounds like it would be a nice step up," she says, glancing back at me with what I can only describe as twisted affection.

Lara's face twists with disgust as she looks between us. "You know," she says, jabbing a finger at Lilly, "if you just wanted to kidnap him, you could have just asked me. You didn't have to kill your fucking sister."

The words land like bombs in the small space. I feel the air leave my lungs as Lara names the horror out loud. Lilly doesn't even flinch.

"I had my reasons," Lilly says, her voice eerily calm.

"Your reasons?" Lara laughs, but there's no humor in it. "What reasons could possibly justify murdering Rose? She was your twin!"

"She wanted to share him," Lilly answers simply, like she's explaining why she had to throw away spoiled milk. "I don't share what's mine."

I stare at her back, unable to see her face, but I can hear the cold certainty in her voice. My stomach churns with the casual way she admits to killing Rose over me. Like it was the only logical solution to her problem.

"Jesus Christ," Lara mutters, running her hands through her hair again. "What did Victoria and Margaret do to you two?"

"Nothing," Lilly replies. "They were perfect mothers."

Lara's jaw tightens as she fixes Lilly with a glare that could melt steel beams. "You know I'm very upset with you about this," she says, her voice dropping dangerously low. "Killing your own sister is fucked up, Lilly. Kin slaying isn’t a joke."

Lilly's lips curl into a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Are you going to tell my mom?" she asks sweetly. "Because then you'd have to explain how you kidnapped Evelyn so Rose could torture her, right?"

My remaining eye widens at this revelation. So Lara was involved from the beginning? The pieces click together in my mind, Lilly manipulating everyone, including her aunt.

Lara sighs again, the fight visibly draining from her body. "Obviously, I'm not going to snitch.”

I watch as she composes herself, smoothing down her expensive suit jacket with practiced hands. The transformation is remarkable, from furious to coldly professional in seconds.

"Look, it's nighttime now," Lara says, checking her watch. "We'll move him after midnight when there's less chance of being seen. After that, I'm torching this house to the ground." She gestures around the basement with disgust. "I don't want any evidence left of what my niece has been up to."

Lilly's face lights up like a child promised ice cream. "That's really kind of you," she says, sounding genuinely touched. "Thank you, Aunty Lara."

Lara sighs for what must be the fourth time in our conversation, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Family is important, Lilly," she says, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "Please don't forget that in the future."

The word "family" jolts something in my mind, cutting through the haze of pain and fear. "Is Chris still safe?" I blurt out, my voice cracking with desperation.

Lara's eyebrow shoots up, genuine confusion crossing her face. "Why wouldn't he be?" she asks, as if the question is absurd.

Before I can respond, Lilly turns and pats my back with gentle possessiveness. "Chris is fine. I can get you daily videos of his life in our new love nest, okay?”

“Okay…”