Prologue/ One
Content Warning: This book is intended for adult readers (18+) and contains themes such as dubious consent (Dubcon), consensual non-consent (CNC), as well as references to violence, rape, slavery, abuse, and other sensitive topics. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Please note that this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental. Thank you.
Third-person POV
Twenty years ago.
In a private underground mine, hidden from the eyes of the government and ordinary folks, and owned by the wealthiest and fastest-growing Italian drug lord, Orlando Alessandro, lived multiple malnourished orphaned children—children who had been adopted only to be forced into slavery.
Among them was a boy named Damiano, nicknamed “Monster.”
Damiano was a twelve-year-old boy who often refused to follow orders, and as a result, he was frequently beaten, chained, and thrown into a cell. The cell was cold, dark, and crawling with insects. A place no child wanted to be.
Every child except Damiano.
He had grown used to it.
The darkness.
The silence.
The pain.
Being locked away no longer frightened him. And today was no exception.
After being caught trying to escape the underground mine, Damiano had been beaten half to death and left in the cell to die.
Dakota—eight years old and the daughter of Orlando Alessandro, visited the mine with her father. As usual, her small legs carried her toward the cell where Damiano was locked up.
With her feeble hands, she reached for the keys where they were usually kept, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
The moment she entered, the insects and rats crawling over Damiano’s nearly lifeless body scattered into hiding, leaving her alone with him.
She swallowed, her throat tight, and watched him from a distance—waiting, hoping he would sense her presence and wake up.
He didn’t.
Gathering what little courage she had, she took a step. Then another. Until she stood right in front of him.
Still, he didn’t move.
She hesitated, then poked his cheek. Once. Twice. Again.
His eyes slowly opened.
The moment his gaze landed on her, she flinched and fell back onto the floor, fear shooting through her at the look in his eyes.
It took her a moment, but she steadied herself and crawled back toward him.
Quietly, she opened her backpack and brought out a piece of cake, part of her lunch, and a bottle of water. She held them out to him.
Damiano turned his head away.
His breathing was shallow. His body was covered in wounds; old ones, fresh ones. One eye was swollen shut; the other looked tired… too tired for someone his age.
“Hm,” she murmured softly, nudging the food closer.
He refused to look at her.
Time was ticking. Her father would start looking for her soon.
Dakota needed a solution.
She thought quickly, then made a decision.
She had tried this before. It hadn’t ended well. But she was desperate.
Opening the cake, she moved closer—close enough to reach him, and pushed a piece into his mouth.
Before he could spit it out, she clamped her hand over his mouth, forcing him to keep it in.
Damiano reacted instantly.
He jerked up, growling furiously, rage flashing through his eye as he struggled against her.
Dakota held still.
She didn’t back away this time.
His hands and legs were chained. That gave her enough confidence to continue.
Slowly, stubbornly, she got him to eat.
When she offered him water, he surprisingly didn’t refuse.
After he finished, his strength slightly restored, his deep blue eye settled on her. He watched silently as she placed the bottle back into her bag and zipped it up.
When she looked back at him, their eyes met.
For a few long moments, they simply stared at each other; quiet, unmoving, wordless.
Dakota knew better than to speak.
He never responded.
He never had.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she rose to her feet, ready to leave. She had barely reached the door when she noticed her father’s guards rushing toward her.
Her eyes widened.
Fear gripped her.
No, not for herself, but for him.
For the blue-eyed boy behind her.
The boy she had come to care for.
The guards burst into the cell, ignoring her cries and weak attempts to stop them. They rushed Damiano and began beating him again, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal, crushing him beneath the weight of their boots.
Blood spilled from his mouth.
He thrashed, trying to fight back, but his strength gave out quickly. Within moments, his body went still.
Unconscious.
Motionless.
The guards stopped.
Then they grabbed Dakota and dragged her out of the cell, ignoring her struggles as they escorted her upstairs, where her father was waiting.
The moment she saw him, she quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and replaced them with a bright smile. She ran to him and held his hand.
When they got home, she went straight to her room.
The moment the door closed behind her, she collapsed onto her bed and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. She blamed herself for his pain, for what had happened, for everything.
She cried for a long time.
When she finally stopped, something had changed in her.
Before leaving her room, she came up with a plan. A plan to save Damiano. A plan to take him out of that hell. And for it to work, she needed help. And she knew exactly who to ask.
Her uncle, the man who hated her father but loved her endlessly.
That evening, when she saw him seated at the dining table beside her father, her face lit up, her cheeks flushing with excitement.
After dinner, she approached him quietly.
“Uncle, I need your help,” she whispered.
***
Dakota stood at the front door, hands clasped tightly together, her cheeks flushed red. Her uncle was on his way back, and he was supposed to return with good news.
It had taken a lot to convince him, but he had agreed.
He promised he would sneak Damiano out through a secret route in the underground mine and told Dakota to wait for him.
The sound of a car pulled her from her thoughts.
Her eyes lit up as his black Jeep drove into the compound.
Excitement coursed through her veins as she ran toward it, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
The door opened and he stepped out. But the look on his face made her heart skip a beat.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“I’m sorry, Dakota,” he said quietly. “I was too late… he’s dead.”
Her hands dropped to her sides.
The world seemed to tilt.
A breath caught in her throat as she gasped, “What…?”
