No Act of Kindness

_Sienna's POV_

"Who would even dare—" The massive guard's angry growl died in his throat.

He spun around, his sentence cut short as he came face to face with Alessio. The Don stood in the doorway, a towering, furious figure radiating cold, lethal authority. The twisted hunger vanished from the guard's face. Shaking in terror, the man scrambled to pull up his pants, his thick fingers fumbling to fix the heavy leather belt at his waist.

I used his distraction to save myself. I desperately reached out and grabbed the thick duvet cover from the mattress, pulling it tight around my naked body. Hot tears of trauma and relief streaked down my flushed face. My limbs trembled. The phantom sensation of his dirty hands tearing at my clothes and grabbing my bare breasts still crawled across my skin. I hid my exposed flesh beneath the heavy fabric, curling my knees to my chest.

Alessio stepped further into the bedroom. His grey eyes locked onto the sweating man, ignoring my sobbing form in the corner.

"May I ask what's going on here?" Alessio's voice thundered throughout the confined room.

The guard dropped to his knees, sweat pouring down his pale forehead. He stuttered, lying to his boss to save his own skin. "Boss! It's the deceitful slut! She stripped off her clothes and tried to seduce me into bed. I swear, she threw herself at me—"

A deafening gunshot erupted, echoing painfully off the small walls.

I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut as the loud crack rang in my ears. The guard's lifeless, heavy body hit the floor with a sickening thud. A clean bullet hole sat right between his eyes. Thick, dark blood pulsed from the wound, pooling rapidly on my pristine white rug. The metallic scent of fresh blood mixed with the bitter sting of gunpowder.

Armed men rushed into the hallway behind Alessio, their weapons drawn and ready.

"Get rid of the body." Alessio ordered the men.

They holstered their guns, stepping into the room to grab the dead weight by the ankles. They dragged the corpse out into the corridor, leaving a thick, wet smear of crimson in their wake. Alessio watched them leave before turning his freezing, unreadable glare to my crying form. He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit, his expression devoid of any human empathy.

"Do not take this as an act of kindness, Sienna. I simply hate it when people lie to my face."

The sheer cruelty of his statement slammed into my chest. My jaw trembled from the lingering adrenaline and the bitter reality of his words. I gathered whatever broken courage I had left to speak.

"So if he didn't lie, you would have just let him live? You would have let him do that to me?" I whispered, my voice shaking.

Alessio stared down at me. His cold, unbroken silence filled the room. It was all the answer I needed. He genuinely did not care what happened to my body or my life. He would have stood by and let that monster violate me, simply because of his hatred for my bloodline.

He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving me alone with the stench of death.

Within minutes, a cleaning crew entered. I sat frozen on the edge of the mattress, my stomach twisted into tight, agonizing knots from the residual fear of the assault, as they scrubbed the floor clean of the crimson blood and rolled the ruined rug away.

The moment they finished, another stern guard arrived at my door. He stood with his arms crossed, his gaze hard.

"The Don demands you join him in the main dining room immediately."

I tightened my grip on the blankets, hiding my torn underwear and shredded shirt. "I'm not hungry."

My petty defiance was cut short. The guard marched into the room, his heavy boots echoing on the clean floor.

"When you're given a direct order in this house, you follow it without question." He snapped, reaching out and grabbing my arm with brutal force.

He dragged me off the bed. The duvet slipped from my shoulders, forcing me to scramble and clutch my torn clothes against my chest to preserve my dignity. He did not give me a second to put on my shoes. He yanked me through the doorway, forcing me to walk barefoot down the long, cold halls. The freezing stone tiles sent biting chills up my bare legs, but the guard's bruising grip on my bicep kept me moving forward.

We approached the massive double doors of the dining room. The booming, raucous laughter of hardened mafia men and women leaked out into the corridor. I stepped hesitantly inside, and the noise died the second they saw me.

A heavy, pin-drop silence fell over the long table. Dozens of syndicate members turned their heads. They directed unwelcoming, hostile glares directly at me. I could see it in their sneers and their darkened eyes. They were openly projecting the deep, generational hatred they held for my father, Gideon, onto my small frame.

I was suffocating under the intense, crushing pressure of being thrown into the lion's den. I could not do this. Panic seized my throat, and I turned on my heel to flee back to my room.

"I don't remember asking you to leave."

Alessio's deep, authoritative voice stopped me dead in my tracks.

A cold gun barrel nudged my spine. The guard standing behind me pushed me forward, leaving me no choice but to face the room. I walked the agonizing, scrutinized distance toward the head of the table. A single empty wooden chair sat placed directly beside Alessio. Every step felt like walking over broken glass. Their predatory stares tracked my every movement, waiting for me to break.

I reached the table, my legs trembling from exhaustion. I nervously bent my knees, gripping the edge of the wood, and lowered myself to sit down.

The chair was swiftly and maliciously yanked away from behind me.

I crashed hard onto the solid marble floor. A sharp, agonizing jolt shot through my injured wrist as I tried to brace my fall. I cried out in pain, cradling my throbbing arm against my ribs.

Instantly, the entire room erupted. Deafening, mocking laughter bounced off the high ceilings as the mafia family reveled in my humiliation.

A pair of polished leather shoes stepped into my blurry line of sight.

I looked up. Alessio stood over my crumpled form. A dark, sadistic smirk played on his handsome lips, and his grey eyes glinted with cruel amusement as he watched me suffer on the dirt.

"Who told you to sit?" Alessio taunted, his voice slicing through the laughter. "You'd be eating on the bare floor, right where a rat like you belongs."

I stared at him, my chest heaving. I bit the soft inside of my cheek until I tasted copper, letting the physical pain anchor me as my inner anger boiled fiercely. I gripped my crumpled, torn clothes tightly, refusing to shed a single tear for their entertainment. In that exact, humiliating moment, surrounded by laughing monsters and a man who viewed me as nothing but vermin, a cold realization settled into my bones.

I hated Alessio Ferara more than anything else in this dark world.