Chapter 5

Vanessa is frozen. The words of the man in front of her continue to linger in her mind as she tries to convince herself that she heard correctly. Hearing him speak his name for the first time is like a single blade to the gut, stealing her breath and leaving her gasping...

Castellano.

Her mind races, memories crashing over her like a tidal wave. The heat of flames licking at her skin. The sound of her mother’s voice, screaming her name. The smell of smoke and blood.

She can still see the burning wreckage of her childhood home, the shadows of her parents’ bodies broken and lifeless. She hadn’t understood why then—only that everything she loved had been destroyed in a single, violent night.

And then Victor had appeared...

He’d pulled her from the ashes, his voice steady and cold as he promised her vengeance... “The Castellanos took everything from you,” he had said, his grip firm on her shoulder as he met her tear-streaked gaze. “But you can take everything from them. I’ll show you how.”

She owed him her life. Or so she’d convinced herself. Victor had given her a purpose when she had none. He’d trained her, shaped her, turned her into a weapon for his empire. And she’d wielded that weapon without hesitation... until now.

Vanessa’s eyes snap back to Arturo, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she faces the man belonging to the family that destroyed her life completely.

“You’re lying.” She lets out, simply not being able to believe him. If he is indeed a Castellanom then why didn't Victor just tell her who he is...

Arturo raises an eyebrow, unfazed by her accusation as he watches her carefully.“Am I?”

“Your family killed mine,” she spits, her voice trembling with fur as she stares Arturo in the eye, “Victor told me everything.”

Arturo’s smirk falters, his gaze sharpening, as if he knows something Vanessa knows. “Did he, now?”

The doubt in his tone sets her teeth on edge, but she refuses to let him rattle her. This man—the name Castellano—has haunted her for years, and now he’s standing in front of her, alive, breathing, mocking her with his calm.

Her pulse pounds as she steps closer, her voice cold and sharp. “If you're a Castellano, then you're good as dead...”

Arturo raises his hands in mock surrender, his tone softening. “I’m just saying, maybe you should think about who’s really been pulling the strings in your life.”

Vanessa doesn’t let him finish. She moves quickly, aiming a punch at his face, but he catches her hand with ease, holding it steady as he steps closer.

“You’re angry,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I get it. But your anger’s misplaced.”

Vanessa wrenches her hand free, her chest heaving as she glares at him. “If you think I’m going to believe a word you say, you’re delusional.”

Arturo sighs, his smirk fading into something quieter, more serious. “Believe me or don’t. But you should be careful, Vanessa. The man you’re working for isn’t who you think he is...”

Her name on his lips sends a chill down her spine, and she hates the way it makes her hesitate.

“I don’t need your advice,” she says coldly, taking a step back.

Arturo doesn’t move to stop her. Instead, he gestures to the room, his voice calm. “Go ahead, Bella. Try to leave. Let’s see how far you get.”

Vanessa glances toward the door, her mind calculating. She knows his men are there—two of them, at least. But she also knows she’s faster than they are...

She doesn’t hesitate.

Vanessa moves toward the door, her bare feet clicking against the floor, but her stride is powerful, controlled. As she reaches for the handle, one of Arturo’s men steps forward.

“Boss?” the guard says, glancing toward Arturo for direction.

“Let her,” Arturo replies smoothly, leaning back against the desk. “She’s determined to try.”

The guard hesitates, but Vanessa doesn’t. She moves like a coiled spring, grabbing his wrist with precision and twisting it sharply until the weapon slips from his grip, clattering to the floor. The man grunts in plain, but before he can recover, Vanessa yanks him forward, slapping her knee into his stomach with brutal force. He doubles over with a choking gasp, and spins on her heel, using the momentum to deliver a sharp kick to the second guard's chest. The second man stumbles back, colliding with the wall behind him. He shakes it off quickly, his hand darting to his belt as he draws a knife. The blade flashes in the low light. Its edge gleaming dangerously.

Vanessa doesn’t flinch. Her grey eyes lock on him, her movements fluid despite the ache radiating through her ribs. When he lunges, she steps into his attack instead of away, ducking under his arm as the knife cuts through empty air. She catches his wrist mid-strike, twisting it with a ppractisedprecision that sends the blade spinning to the floor.

The man curses, trying to grab her with his free hand, but she’s faster. Vanessa uses his own momentum to throw him off balance, slamming his shoulder into the wall with a sickening thud. His body slumps, dazed but still conscious, as she steps back, standing over the discarded knife.

Arturo watches the scene unfold from the shadows, his arms crossed casually over his chest. There’s a faint flicker of amusement in his dark eyes, as though he’s more entertained than concerned by her display of skill. She disarms both men in less than thirty seconds, and his expression never changes.

Vanessa doesn’t give him the satisfaction of looking flustered. She turns to face him, her chest heaving, her grey eyes blazing with controlled fury. “Still think I’m wasting my energy?”

Arturo’s lips curve into a faint smirk, and he raises his hands in a slow, deliberate clap. The sound echoes in the quiet room, mocking in its ease. “Impressive,” he says, his voice calm and steady. “But let’s not pretend you’re free just yet.”

Vanessa’s jaw tightens, her gaze shifting to the door. The guards groan on the floor behind her, clutching their ribs and shoulders, but she knows more could be just outside. She crouches quickly, grabbing the knife from the floor, the cool weight of the blade familiar in her hand.

“Stay back,” she warns, her voice sharp.

Arturo doesn’t move. He watches her carefully, his smirk softening into something more calculated. “You won’t get far,” he says, his tone almost gentle, as if he’s trying to reason with her.

Vanessa’s lips curl into a dangerous smile. “Watch me.”

With that, she moves, slipping toward the door with a speed and grace that Arturo finds himself admiring despite the circumstances.

The door creaks open, and the chaos of the club spills in—a throbbing bassline, bursts of laughter, and the hum of conversation. Vanessa vanishes into the crowd without a backward glance.

Arturo remains where he is, his gaze fixed on the doorway she disappeared through. He doesn’t call his men after her, doesn’t give an order to chase. Instead, he reaches for the decanter on the desk, pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

“She’s going to be a problem,” one of the guards mutters, his voice strained as he pushes himself to his feet, clutching his ribs.

Arturo chuckles softly, the sound low and warm. He swirls the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “Oh, she already is...” he says, his voice laced with fascination... The faint smile on his lips lingers as he takes a slow sip of whiskey, his thoughts already racing ahead...