บท 2: Chapter 2- You’re afraid of me?
Chapter 2 - You're Afraid of Me?
The destination was a secluded villa by the sea, shrouded in shadows and secrecy. Sophia was nearly yanked out of the car, her protests drowned out by the roar of the waves as Capone, his patience fraying, took control. Ignoring his own injuries, he stormed inside, dragging her along.
Inside the bathroom, a bath had been prepared, steam swirling like ghosts in the air. Without a moment's hesitation, he ripped the tape from her mouth and plunged her face-first into the scalding water. Her long hair fanned out on the surface, a dark halo that belied the turmoil beneath.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" he taunted, yanking her up by the hair, his voice a cold whisper in her ear. "I warned you not to run, not to defy me. But you didn't listen, so now you'll remember this."
"You're despicable! My father… and my brother—they won't let you get away with this!" Sophia's voice trembled as she fought against the suffocating grip of the water, the stinging wounds on her face and back igniting under the heat. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the water, masking her vulnerability from the monster looming over her.
Though she had never faced such torment, her spirit refused to break in front of him. Yet, her defiance only ignited Capone's darker desires. This spoiled heiress was more resilient than he anticipated, but he was determined to see her cry, to bend her will to his.
With a swift motion, he untied her, stripping away her clothing as if shedding her dignity along with the fabric. He pushed her back into the bathtub, the hot water intensifying the pain from her wounds until a scream escaped her lips. She bit down hard on her trembling lip, stifling the sound, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her weakness.
Capone leaned over the edge of the tub, a predatory grin creeping across his face. He seized her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, then crashed his lips against hers with a ferocity that stole her breath. His tongue invaded her mouth, silencing her cries, drowning her in a mix of fear and rage.
Sophia fought back, her hands flailing against him, water splashing wildly as it soaked through his clothes, seeping into the bullet grazed wound on his side—the pain echoing her own. Yet, he remained unfazed, his relentless assault on her lips continuing as if her struggles only fueled his resolve.
This suffocation was worse than before; it clawed at her lungs as she endured his violation, her spirit screaming for release. In one swift motion, he lifted her from the tub and hurled her onto the bed. He climbed on top of her, the heat from his body clashing with the cold air, sending shivers down her spine.
His eyes, a storm of icy detachment and fiery intensity, bore into her as if trying to peel away her defenses and uncover her very soul.
"Please, don't do this!" The plea escaped her lips, raw and desperate. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable before a man. As he kissed and groped her, there was no hint of affection—only the cold brutality of power.
She cried out, fully aware of the impending horror, yet it wasn't supposed to end like this. She had dreams, a love that filled her heart, and a future brimming with promise. How could all those beautiful things be shattered in an instant?
But there was no time to mourn. The searing pain that followed jolted her back to reality, a torment far worse than the lash marks that crisscrossed her back.
"It hurts…" she sobbed, her voice breaking, but his movements remained relentless—fast, brutal, merciless.
This wasn't a nightmare; this cruel reality was all too vivid.
Capone violated her most sacred self with the cold, unforgiving force of his body. She felt the warmth of her blood mingling with the tears streaming down her face. Her fierce resistance began to crumble, replaced by an emptiness and despair that hollowed her gaze.
For a fleeting moment, a flicker of something akin to regret stirred within him, but he merely smiled, lowering his head to inflict further marks upon her skin...
When Sophia finally awoke, she found herself sprawled on a soft bed, drenched in the warm glow of daylight. The sky outside was bright and blue. The distant sound of waves lapping against the shore broke through the fog of her mind.
For a moment, disorientation clouded her thoughts. Where was she? The man who had shattered her innocence was gone, leaving only a haunting silence behind.
Last night's torment had been a waking nightmare, a cycle of pain and humiliation that had stolen her sleep until just before dawn. The blue-and-white room around her was likely one of Capone's properties by the port.
She remembered her brother, Alexander Diaz, speaking of the southern coastal city dotted with islands, each harboring small towns and private estates. She was probably trapped on one of those desolate islands.
Trying to move her sore limbs, she pushed herself up on her elbows. The absence of clothing sent a rush of humiliation through her, and the bruises adorning her body were stark reminders of the horror she had endured. Tears pricked her eyes; the pain was so excruciating she wished to dissolve into nothingness.
She longed to scream, but her throat felt dry and raw, barely able to muster a sound, a burning discomfort radiating through her as she oscillated between cold and hot.
"Are you awake? Do you feel any discomfort?" A slightly plump woman approached, her expression laced with concern. She was likely the only "kind-faced" person Sophia had encountered in days.
"Who are you?" Sophia's voice was sharp, her guard firmly in place. She felt like a wounded animal, wary of every movement around her.
"Miss Sophia, don't be afraid. Just call me Lucy!" The woman set down the items she was carrying, her warm smile a stark contrast to Sophia's dark reality. "I brought you two sets of clean clothes, some porridge, and side dishes. You look very unwell; please put on some clothes and eat something. Later, we'll have the doctor check on you!"
Lucy's kindness felt like a lifeline, sparking a flicker of hope in Sophia's heart. "Lucy, are you a resident here?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation.
"Yes, I've lived here for nearly 20 years, so you could say that!" Lucy beamed, her demeanor genuine.
"Then you're a good person… Please help me! I was kidnapped by Capone, and my family must be worried sick! You have to tell me how I can escape or let me make a call. I'll reward you handsomely when I get home!" Her words poured out in a rush, fueled by the adrenaline of her plight.
But Lucy shook her head, a hint of sympathy in her eyes. "Good girl, don't think too much about it. Focus on getting better first! They're not bad people and won't hurt you. If you need anything during your stay, you can tell me. As for the rest... I really can't help you."
Sophia let go of her hand, watching helplessly as Lucy walked out the door, tears welling in her eyes. The thought that the people who had taken her at gunpoint weren't "bad" gnawed at her insides. Was last night's brutal assault not considered harm?
Was Lucy part of their group? Were their eyes everywhere here? The weight of despair settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She closed the door behind Lucy, feeling utterly trapped. It was clear Lucy was aligned with them; there was no escape.
Huddled on the bed with her knees drawn close, she gradually sensed an unsettling shift in the air. Suddenly, she looked up to find Capone sitting in a chair directly across from the head of her bed, watching her with a cold, unblinking gaze. He had witnessed everything.
Oh my God, how had she not noticed he was still in the room?
Capone narrowed his eyes slightly, an unsettling satisfaction gleaming in them as he stood and approached the bed. Only then did she realize he was clad in nothing but pants, his upper body bare, with a white bandage wrapped around his shoulder—a reminder of the violence from the night before.
Despite everything, there was an undeniable beauty to him. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen: tall, well-proportioned, his muscles honed from years of disciplined training. The leopard head tattoo on his left chest added an untamed edge to his striking appearance.
But she knew better than to be swayed by looks. She had seen his ruthlessness, the darkness that lurked in his world. This man would show no mercy, no regard for her suffering. His presence was suffocating, a blend of nobility and arrogance that only intensified her fear.
At just 21, Sophia had lived a sheltered, sunny life, wrapped in the warmth of her family's love. Never before had she felt such fear as she did in his presence.
As he approached, she instinctively recoiled, but the bed limited her retreat—where else could she go?
He reached out, grasping one of her shoulders. Her body stiffened, but she dared not move, summoning every ounce of courage to glare at him as he sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body.
"What do you want?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound defiant.
"You're afraid of me?" he stated, the words dripping with certainty.
"Who says that? Why should I be afraid of a mafia boss flaunting his gun? If you have the guts, just shoot me!" Her bravado felt thin, but she clung to it desperately.
"You think I wouldn't?" He raised an eyebrow, a bemused smile playing on his lips as his hand glided from her shoulder up to her pale neck, gradually tightening its grip. The air in her lungs was slowly crushed, heat blooming in her cheeks as panic began to swell. Still, she clenched her lips together, refusing to plead for mercy.
As her vision began to blur, her body on the brink of collapse, he finally released her. Sophia doubled over, coughing violently, tears threatening to spill over from the sheer force of her panic. Before she could catch her breath, she felt Capone's hand on her cheek. The bruise from the slap the previous day throbbed painfully under his touch, igniting a fresh wave of agony that made her flinch involuntarily.
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