Chapter 3 — The Roscotto Estate

Serenna

The first thing Serenna registered was the weight of the silence. No dripping rain, no muffled city hum—just an oppressive stillness that pressed against her chest. Her head throbbed, a relentless ache radiating from her temples as fractured memories flickered in her mind. Each breath felt heavy, the air thick with unfamiliarity and an underlying bitterness she couldn’t place. Her lids were heavy, but as she forced them open, blurred shapes sharpened into focus.

A room. Not hers.

Lavish. Intimidating.

Her breath hitched as her gaze swept over her surroundings. The bed beneath her was massive, its sheets crisp and impossibly soft against her skin. Above her, a chandelier dripped with crystal, throwing fragmented light onto the high, vaulted ceiling. The dark wood paneling of the walls exuded an air of history, of wealth built on ruthlessness. The faint, bitter scent of cigars mingled with a delicate floral note, sharp and incongruous. Her fingers brushed against the smooth fabric of the blanket, a small, unimportant sensation that couldn’t quell the unease roiling in her chest.

Panic threatened to claw its way up her throat as she sat up slowly, her muscles stiff and protesting. The blanket slipped from her, revealing her damp, rain-streaked clothes clinging to her skin. Her hand shot to her neck instinctively, relief flooding her veins when her fingers closed around the cool, familiar weight of her pendant. She gripped it tightly, the tiny locket grounding her for a fleeting moment as the world around her spun.

Her legs swung over the edge of the bed, the cold stone floor biting into her bare feet. Memories slammed into her, each one sharper than the last: the café, the rain, the alley. The piercing gray eyes of the man who had stepped out of the shadows. The sharp, chemical burn of a cloth against her face.

Her stomach roiled violently, but she forced herself to press her hands into her lap and breathe, her nails biting into her palms. Focus. Where was she? How had she gotten here? And, most importantly, how could she—

A soft click shattered the stillness, the sound as sharp as a gunshot in the oppressive quiet. Her head snapped toward the door as it eased open, her pulse spiking. She pushed herself back instinctively, her hands gripping the edge of the bed as the figure stepped inside.

Him.

Xander Roscotto.

He looked even more imposing than he had in the café, his refined features now framed by the full, unforgiving light of the room. He stood with a commanding stillness, as though the air itself bent to his presence. His tailored suit clung perfectly to his tall, imposing frame, and in his left hand, he idly twisted a heavy gold ring—coiled serpent encircling a rose—that caught the light. The sight of it sent a chill racing through her, a physical reminder of the power he wielded.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice deliberate and low, each syllable measured as though he had already planned every word.

Her chest tightened as she forced her trembling voice to rise above the silence. “Where am I?” she asked, her chin tilting upward in defiance even as the tremor betrayed her fear.

“The Roscotto Estate,” Xander replied evenly, his piercing gray eyes fixed on hers. “You’re my guest.”

The word struck her, sharp and derisive. “Guest?” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “Guests usually get to choose when they leave.”

His lips quirked at the edges, but the movement was devoid of warmth, carrying a frigid amusement that only deepened her unease. Without breaking his stride, he stepped further into the room, closing the door with a soft whisper that felt more final than a slam. “You’ve been brought here for a reason. Your compliance will make things considerably easier.”

Her stomach twisted, a storm of fury and fear surging through her chest. “I don’t care why I’ve been brought here,” she bit out. “I didn’t agree to this, and I’m not staying.”

Xander’s expression remained unflinching, but the air between them seemed to darken, a tension coiling tighter with every passing second. He stopped a few feet away, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud about to break. “You’ll want to choose your next words carefully, Serenna.”

The sound of her name in his calm, controlled tone sent a shiver down her spine, but she straightened her back, her fists clenching at her sides. “You don’t scare me.”

His gray eyes sharpened, locking onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath. For an agonizing moment, silence stretched taut between them, the air thick with unspoken threats. Then, with deliberate precision, he stepped closer, lowering himself just enough to meet her eye level. The faint scent of his cologne—something clean and cold, unyielding as ice—reached her, making her heart race.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice carrying an edge like a blade. “Fear makes people predictable.”

Her breath caught in her throat when his tone shifted, quieter and sharper, cutting through her composure. “But you should listen very carefully, Serenna. Your refusal to cooperate won’t just affect you.”

Her blood ran cold. “What—what’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, though the words came out weaker than she intended.

He studied her, his piercing gaze unreadable, and yet she thought she caught the barest flicker of hesitation—a hesitation so brief she might have imagined it. Whatever it was vanished as his voice sliced through the air again, precise and lethal. “Your brother, Ryan.”

She surged to her feet, her vision white-hot with fury, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. “Don’t you dare—” Her voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Don’t you touch him.”

“Whether I do or not is entirely up to you,” Xander said coolly, his composure unshaken. “You’ve been chosen to compete in the mafia games. Refusal isn’t an option.”

“Mafia games?” The words fell from her lips like acid, her mind reeling as she tried to process what he’d just said. “You’re insane if you think I’m participating in whatever twisted circus this is.”

Xander straightened, his hand still idly turning the signet ring on his finger. His jaw tightened minutely, a brief crack in his controlled expression. “Insane or not, you will participate. You will survive. And by the end, your loyalty will be exactly where I intend it to be.”

Her nails dug into her palms as she tried to steady her breathing. The room seemed to shrink around her, the shadows deepening, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. “You don’t know me,” she said, the words laced with defiance. “And you sure as hell can’t control me.”

For a moment, Xander’s cold mask seemed to shift, his gaze flickering with… something. Amusement? Frustration? It was gone before she could name it. “You’re right,” he said softly, his voice almost conversational. “I don’t know you. But I do know what motivates you, Serenna. I know you’d do anything to protect Ryan.”

The mention of Ryan burned through her like a brand, searing away any coherent thought. Her vision blurred with rage and helplessness, her breath coming too fast as his certainty carved into her like a knife.

Before she could respond, the door opened again. Another figure stepped inside, tall and broad-shouldered, his pale blue eyes assessing her with a calm intensity.

“Andrei,” Xander said, his tone as controlled as ever. “Show her around. She needs to understand the stakes.”

Andrei nodded once, his movements precise. The worn handle of a combat knife peeked from his belt, but his expression—while unreadable—seemed to lack the same cold menace that Xander radiated. Serenna’s gaze flicked to his hands, his stance, searching for any sign of weakness or kindness. She found neither, only quiet efficiency.

“Understood,” Andrei replied, his voice clipped, but there was something in his tone—a faint resignation, perhaps—that caught her off guard.

Xander turned his attention back to her, his expression unreadable once again. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something else in his eyes. Regret? Doubt? But no—it was gone, replaced by the icy armor he wore so effortlessly.

“Behave, Serenna,” Xander said, his tone soft but sharp as a blade. “Your brother’s life depends on it.”

And with that, he strode from the room, leaving her trembling in his wake. The heavy door clicked shut behind him, its finality echoing in the silence.

Andrei remained by the door, his pale eyes steady as he gestured for her to follow. “Let’s go,” he said, his calm voice carrying a quiet authority.

Serenna’s body screamed to fight, to lash out, to do something—anything—but Ryan’s face burned in her mind, his voice haunting her thoughts. She couldn’t risk it. Not yet.

Straightening her spine, she willed her legs to move and followed Andrei out of the room. The hallway outside was impossibly vast, lined with gilded walls and suffocating grandeur. The echoes of their footsteps stretched into the shadows, a reminder of the perilous world she’d been dragged into.

The Roscotto Estate loomed around her, beautiful and terrible, every corner whispering danger. Even as dread twisted in her chest, her defiance burned brighter. She would survive this. She had to.