[RE-WRITTEN]

Liliana was jolted from her sleep by the familiar feeling of her stomach turning. She was quick to her feet, her knees jolted beneath her sudden weight as she stumbled through the dark towards the bathroom. Within seconds, she was was hunched over the toilet, violently retching.

At six weeks pregnant, Liliana was not enjoying the sickness that plagued her every day at such early hours of the morning. If this was what she was to endure for the following weeks, she was going to be exhausted in no time. Already she struggled to get through the day without needing a nap.

After brushing her teeth more than once, she finally made her way back to the bed, barely stifling a yawn as she did. She was so exhausted, that it wasn't until she had buried herself beneath the bedsheets once more, that she even noticed Marcello's absence beside her.

A groan dragged from her lips as she sat up and blinked drearily through the darkness of the room, as if expecting him to appear from the bathroom, despite knowing he had not been in there with her. According to the digital clock at her bedside, it was only 0:30am. Where could Marcello be at such a time, and why had he left her alone?

It was then that Liliana heard murmuring from outside the bedroom door. Rising to her feet quietly, she edged towards it until she was only a few steps away, holding her breath as she listened. She could barely make out the muffled words but knew immediately that it was not her husband or his brothers, nor was it the voices of her assigned guards. The conversation was distinctly Italian.

Something was wrong; something was very, very wrong.

After all that had occurred between them, after the attack last time she was left alone in the manor, Marcello would not be so stupid to leave her alone again without warning. Not to mention, Marcello had been unrelenting in her safety these past two weeks after the shooting. For what reason would he have disappeared, and left unfamiliar men to guard their bedroom without her knowledge, knowing how triggering this could be for her?

Liliana couldn't control the furious beating of her heart in her chest, so wild it was almost painful. Stumbling away from the door, she fell to her knees, silently curling into herself as her hands threaded through her hair and pulled at the strands. Already her breathes had grown ragged, and the sound of blood pulsing through her ears became distracting.

What should she do? What could she do?

"Shut up!" A voice hissed in English, loud enough for the words to cut clearly into the bedroom and reach her ears. From his accent, Liliana knew this man, whoever he was, was American.

The sound of faint footsteps grew closer to the closed bedroom the door. She strained to listen further, but it was difficult for Liliana to hear anything else above the sound of her own pulse throbbing erratically until more voices could be heard.

"It's not like we will be caught," a thick Italian accent drawled. "We already have them all, it is just Signora Fiorenza, and she will not be of any use."

She froze, eyes widening towards the door as a deep seated sense of terror settled.

"And you know your orders?" The American's tone was patronising and cocky.

"Do not touch Signora Fiorenza. Do not let her out. We are only here for the D'Onofrio's."

If there was any doubt before as to the nature of these men's presence it had now been erased. They were intruding in her home and they were to be feared.

"Merda!" Liliana hissed to herself, muffled by her hands pressed tight to her mouth. She couldn't let them know she was awake. She needed to shake herself out of this horror, she couldn't remain here cowering for the rest of the night praying her family would not be harmed. She had to do something, anything.

But she couldn't seem to move, her hands were clammy and shaking, and she could barely breathe around the tightness in her chest. There barely seemed to be enough air in the room. Her head felt foggy. Liliana shifted where she was sat folded on the floor, dropping further to the ground so she was laying curled on her side, a hand clutched to her chest where dull throbs of pain radiated.

It felt as if a hand were once again wrapped around her throat, squeezing so tight with deadly intent. She closed her eyes and she could see that face again, ghastly pale and frozen into a looked of horrified pain.

She couldn't stop the memories of the last intruder, couldn't stop herself from thinking of the weight of the glass in her hand as she'd defended herself, or the overwhelming sight of blood that had stained her nearly head to toe. Marcello and his brothers hadn't been there then either.

She had barely survived.

The gasping sensation of air being drawn heavily in and out was now the only thing she could focus on, the only thing that kept her anchored.

She wasn't sure how long she had laid helpless on the bedroom floor, or how long she had struggled for breath, but when her heart had finally calmed somewhat, she was left drenched in sweat, her hands still shaking.

She needed to get up.

She was not this woman; this wasn't how her aunt had raised her these past two years. Adelina had taught Liliana how to defend herself, and how to deal with these situations – scenarios that were always a frightening possibility living the life they did. But experiencing a simulation of an event like this, was in no way similar to the real event. She had not felt fear so raw as this before. Her biggest test tonight would be remaining calm and level-headed.

While her father had always sheltered her from his work – under the lie of her mother's death – Adelina had recognised the need to prepare her, to help her rather than restrict her. Liliana knew basic self-defence and she knew how to shoot at gun. What she lacked was real world experience, which she knew could make all the difference. She didn't have the luxury of sitting back and doing nothing though, not if, as she suspected, the D'Onofrio men had been compromised.

The last time someone had broken into the D'Onofrio manor Liliana had been caught unaware; she had panicked and nearly died. This time she would be more prepared. She could take care of herself, she knew this, she just hoped that their underestimation of her would work in her favour once again. Though the men outside apparently had no desire to hurt her, Liliana knew that as soon as she fought to free herself from them, things could become violent awfully quick.

Liliana's knees shook as she gathered herself to her feet, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. She couldn't go out there like this; she had to pull herself together.

Clumsy fingers grasped her phone from her bedside table, rushing to text Sophia. With Barbato's death she had no idea who was in control of his empire, but Sophia knew the men that had worked for him, and Barbato had to have been trusted, he had to...



It would have been better to call Sophia, but Liliana was terrified that any word she said out loud, no matter how quiet, would be overheard.

She threw the phone onto the bed, stalking silently over to her wardrobe. She had no idea what clothes would be appropriate for running away from attackers, but it certainly wasn't going to be her loose silky pyjamas. Gym wear would have to do.

Every second she spent in the room was also spent looking towards the door, expecting someone to burst through at any moment. Liliana dressed as quickly and quietly as she could, certain that she was going to throw up again at any moment. The dread that ate away at any ounce of composure she could possibly have, had her second guessing every decision that she made.

What if Marcello and his brothers were completely fine?

She couldn't shake away the nagging feeling of terror though. If they were safe, then why were they not here? Why were strangers outside her door, apparently after the D'Onofrio's?

She grabbed a pair of shoes, ones she knew to have thick, hard soles, and shoved them onto her feet. Her phone had no new notifications and she knew that she couldn't wait all night for someone to rescue her.

What if the D'Onofrio's were already dead?

The terrifying thought struck her so suddenly, and Liliana had to bite back any sound of a whimper that wanted to escape at just the thought. She couldn't think like that. She had to assume they were all still alive.

There was no way in hell Mercello was allowed to die before they sorted out whatever it was, they were going through. And if anyone was going to kill her idiota husband it was going to be her, not whoever these men were.

No, it wasn't even funny to joke about that.

Marcello wasn't going to die. He would survive. This was the world he thrived in; he knew how to handle these situations.

Except he hadn't really been himself lately.

Liliana heaved up the top corner of the mattress, reaching for the unloaded gun she knew Marcello kept hidden there. She had first found it in her initial week at the manor following their marriage, when she had had nothing better to do than explore every damn inch of the bedroom. She had no idea why he felt the need to hide a handgun there, but she was sure as hell thankful that he had. The ammunition she knew to be hidden at the back of his underwear draw.

Thankfully she had never mentioned her discovery to Marcello, for he might have moved them.

With numb movements, Liliana loaded the gun just like her aunt had taught her. Her fingers trembled, dreading whatever would await her outside the bedroom walls. Shooting a target in practice and shooting a man were two very different things; Liliana wasn't naïve enough to think otherwise.

With her phone on silent and tucked securely within a pocket, she gripped the gun in her hand tightly, paranoid that she would drop it. It felt too heavy, too bulky in her hands. She had never held a gun that had weighed so much on her before.

Liliana stood behind her bedroom door, twisting the handle and allowing it to open ever so slightly. She would be a fool to walk out into the corridor not knowing how many men there were and where they were positioned. She would force them to come to her, inside the room. Just as she had hoped, any conversation outside cut off as soon as the door moved. She had gained their attention.

"Signora Fiorenza?" An unfamiliar voice called. Lilian stayed silent, pressed against the wall behind the door.

"Does she speak English?" One of the men with a thick Italian accent questioned. They didn't know her personally then; they definitely weren't part of her security.

"I don't know," another hissed in return. He sounded frustrated, therefore easy to antagonise further. She wasn't sure what would be better, going against someone who was calm or someone blinded by anger. Men were stupid when they were overwhelmed with emotion, but they were also deadly.

"Well, go in there and check on the bitch."

The door pushed open more, giving enough space for someone to enter. It was a man with thick black hair, dressed in smart black trousers and a grey shirt. He had a gun clutched at his side, and a sneer on his lips. Liliana didn't think as her arm rose; gun pointed towards the intruder. He turned, eyes catching hers and before he had a chance to speak, Liliana shot him.

Her shoulder jolted back as the gun jerked, and she winced at the sudden ringing in her ears. Why couldn't Marcello have a damn suppressor on his gun? It wouldn't have silenced the gunshots, but at least it would have reduced the almost deafening effect on her hearing.

The man in front of her howled and dropped to the floor to clutch at his bleeding foot. There were muffled shouts outside the door – though their distance from her was hard to confirm when everything sounded so muted.

The element of surprise was gone now. Liliana didn't hesitate to shoot the man in front of her two more times, in the shoulder and in his chest. She flinched both times.

"Che cazzo è?" Two more men rushed in.

One of the men knocked the gun out of her hands, hissing as he made contact with the burning hot muzzle of the gun. The second man moved behind to restrain her. Liliana didn't hesitate to slam the hard heel of her shoe down against the length of his shin. Her elbow surged back into his diaphragm before he could grab her arms.

As she pulled herself from his grip, the first man was in front of her again. His palm slammed into her nose. She grunted, hands flying to her face. Her eyes were streaming.

"Vaffanculo!" She spat at him. The man sneered at her in return. He lunged for her again, only this time Liliana dropped to the floor. Her knees thudded painfully against the carpet as she sought out her previously discarded gun.

"Putanna," one of the men said, his gun now also pointed towards her.

"I don't think you're allowed to kill me," she said, a break in her voice betraying whatever act of confidence she had hoped to portray. The tightness in her chest was back, mirrored by her growing panic.

The men's eyes shot wide in surprise - whether it was from the fact that she was speaking English, or because she had apparently overheard their orders, she wasn't sure. She saw the man aiming his gun falter. Liliana didn't waste time, quickly lifting her gun towards them. Her first two shots missed, but the following four found a target in the men.

Their grunts and groans of pain were louder than expected and Liliana was all too aware that there were other intruders in the house. She had to get out of here quick before someone came to inspect the noise.

Scrambling unsteadily to her feet, Liliana stumbled out of the bedroom. Her ears were still ringing and her fingers felt numb wrapped tightly around the gun. She ran all the way to a hallway on the ground floor before she allowed herself to stop, pressed against a wall as she struggled to catch her breath. She could hear more voices whispering to one another further in the house, but couldn't discern which direction they were coming from.

The D'Onofrio manor was too big, and so much of it had been left unexplored by Liliana despite the weeks she had spent trapped here. She had no idea where to go next, or where the brothers would be; and, to her despair, she realised her gun was now out of ammunition. In her rush to flee her bedroom before more men arrived, she had forgotten to grab any extra bullets, or to switch out her weapon with one of the dead men's guns.

She was now alone, completely clueless, and unarmed while intruders were spread throughout her home and her husband was nowhere to be seen. No part of her plan had been thought out at all, she had merely acted on instinct, driven my fear.

Liliana could not return to her bedroom, and she had no idea where she would find more ammunition or another weapon. The smart thing to have done would be to find somewhere to hide and wait for help, or to try and escape the manor and make her way to Sophia. But time was not on her side; Liliana had no idea how long she had been asleep while this intrusion had occurred. Any second she wasted, could be a second closer to Marcello's death.

Somehow, against all odds, Liliana had managed to move throughout the house without being caught. It had taken her ten minutes to scour the expanse of the ground floor, and each time she found another empty room, she found her hopes sinking.

It was only when she was near giving up that she stumbled upon a door at the far side of the east wing hiding a stairway leading deep underground. Of course the D'Onofrio's would have a basement - where else would they conduct the more violent and secretive sides of their business? A basement - one she had no idea existed until now - was the perfect place to hide everything from her.

Down she went, not daring to turn on any light, or use the torch of her phone. She kept her breaths quiet, and her steps light, until she reach the bottom, squinting through the darkness to realise an empty corridor stretched out in front of her. At the end of the corridor, was a single, metal door half open.

She had found them; inside a compact concrete room at the mercy of Dino D'onofrio.

The three D'Onofrio brothers were sat on collapsible chairs, there hands bound behind their backs. Liliana's eyes immediately locked onto her husband's battered face. His left eye was swollen, blood dripped from his nose and the corner of his mouth. And his torso... Marcello's shirt was missing, exposing the cuts and slashes that decorated his tan skin. His wound, once stitched, had torn and was bleeding slowly. Liliana wanted to be sick.

A shaking hand shot to her mouth, smothering back her cries. Unable to prevent it, she found herself stumbling back a few steps. At the noise, Marcello's head snapped towards her, and though his expression seemed somewhat vacant he was lucid enough to recognise her.

"Lil-" He cut himself off with a sob. "Fanculo."

Marcello resisted against his restraints, arms tugging harshly to be free despite whatever binds held him. Angelo and Giovanni looked as equally horrified to see her.

"You shouldn't be here," Marcello stressed, voice strained and broken. Panic finally catching up with his features as his eyes widened. "Your face, what happened, mia amore?"

"Shut up!" The sound of Dino's gruff voice bellowed, echoing throughout the small concrete room. Liliana flinched. "I've had you down here for an hour without a fucking word from any of you and as soon as this bitch appears, you're off running your pathetic mouth?"

***

Marcello was accustomed to the feeling of hate. He distrusted many in his life, and hated them just as much, but above all, the hate he felt for himself was most prominent. Until today.

The hate he felt for Dino was immeasurable, especially as he saw the sight of his wife's blood. His younger cousin stood before them with an air of arrogance, seeming to think himself far more important than he was. Whatever it was that he thought himself capable of, he was sorely mistaken - for once Marcello was free of these restraints he was going to tear the man to pieces.

"Why are you doing this?" Liliana asked, her soft voice breaking through the tension of the room. Marcello wanted to shout at her to stay quiet, to not waste her words on the filth that was the man holding them hostage.

A sickening grin twisted across Dino's lips as he fixed Liliana with a look overflowing with malice, leaving Marcello's skin crawling.

Marcello jolted in his chair again, wanting so desperately to leap to his feet and place himself between Dino and Liliana. For Marcello to be victim to Dino's punishing hand was one thing, but for Liliana to be harmed was a far graver affair. The zip-ties cut into his already bloodied wrists, a familiar sting feeling numb after being subjected to the same strain for so long.

"It amuses me, to see the once powerful so weak. Tormenting you brings me a pleasure I didn't think possible."

A realisation clicked in Marcello's mind, a heavy thought that left the acidic taste of bile to fill his mouth.

"You were the one sending the letters." His accusation was so absolute, disgust dripping from every word as he spied his cousin with a deadly glare. Dino only smirked in response. Bastardo. "Why involve Liliana? You know our rules."

"Those rules are put in place for a reason cugini, the fastest way to break a man is through his heart."

Marcello swore, a snarl on his lips. In his peripheral he saw the tension rise in both brothers beside him. "Those rules are put in place because the consequence of our actions should never fall to anyone but ourselves, least of all the women and children who do nothing but care for us. How dare you disrespect my wife in such a way, and lay down my punishment onto her as if she is at fault for your own jealousy. You didn't become my second because you didn't deserve it and you weren't to be trusted, for good reason clearly.

"So I ask again, what was the point in involving my wife?"

He saw Liliana's head shoot towards him, surprise colouring her features. She had yet to learn why this was happening, left completely in the dark. His heart ached at the thought of her waking alone. And her face, marred by the evidence of an attack. Had she fought her way down here, to him?

Dino scoffed, his expression so sour Marcello was sure he would spit at his feet any second.

"You don't get it do you? Your life has been so easy it's pathetic. Your whole family consists of spoilt brats who've never worked for anything a day in their life. You're weak, and unfit to rule behind the D'Onofrio name; your wife is proof of that."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Angelo spat with his usual temper, finally speaking up, fixing his cousin with a level of disgust that impressed Mercello. His younger brother could be incredibly ferocious when he wanted to be. Yet still, Dino didn't pause.

"I had actually thought she would finally be your punishment, the way she continuously fought against you. How wrong I was. I never expected you to be a man who rolled over at his wife's every command. You're weak and pathetic. You're not a real man."

Mercello's rage had reached its limit, overflowing from every limb. But Liliana was already ready to pounce, stepping into the room, standing defensively in front of the three D'onofrio men and squaring up against Dino with a confidence he had seen even some of his men lack.

She laughed sharply as if this whole affair was nothing more than a harmless family dispute. Her bravado did not fool Marcello though, not as he noticed the right clench of her fists and the quiver of her lips. His wife was terrified and he could not nothing to help.

"I had nothing to do with your little pissing match, yet you felt it appropriate to drag me and my family through the dirt to achieve your goals? You deserve nothing from my husband. You're a petty, spoilt child who thinks bashing his fists against the table and throwing a tantrum is gonna' get you what you want. You wanted a higher position; you should have worked harder for it."

"Taunting you with those letters was such a pleasure," Dino sneered, stepping up towards her. "A bitch like you needs to learn her place. A bitch like you needs to be taken down a peg or two."

"And the break in? My assault? Was that you too?" Liliana asked, seemingly unaffected by Dino's harsh words and attempts at intimidating - even if Marcello knew better. His wife looked as fierce as could be, her head held high, tone sharp and unforgiving as she stared down their assailant despite the dried blood beneath her nose and the swell of her face.

This time Dino did falter, his jaw working as he formulated an answer until after an uncomfortable few seconds he said, "I don't know anything about that."

"That would have been me," a familiar voice drawled from the doorway of the basement room.

Marcello's temper flared. He hated the chilling feeling of shock that suddenly overcame him. He should have seen this coming; nothing else explained how Dino had the power to execute such a foolish plan. Alone, Dino was not strong enough to send the D'Onofrio empire into such disarray.

The absolute bastard!



I've uploaded another chapter of TF and somehow managed to upload my other story In The Night too (massive shock). I realise a lot less people read my story now because I'm the literal worst at updating but I'm gonna keep writing it anyway. Very close to the end of Tainted Faith and In The Night, and then I'll be working on a new project (not the sequel to this as I haven't finished planning that yet to see if it works).

Q. Who is in the doorway????

The next chapter of TF will be available on Friday 6th September. If you can't wait that long it's available on my Inkitt account for free! The link is in my bio and available in the inline comments.