The Slave of Pleasure

The room we were in had a musty, rusty smell that seemed to seep into my lungs with every breath. As soon as we arrived, I felt a wave of claustrophobia take over me. The air was heavy, as if every breath required effort. My heart was beating fast, not just from fear, but from the adrenaline that insisted on pulsing through my veins. I looked around, trying to control my panic. The environment was oppressive, dark, and seemed to whisper danger around every corner. Despite this, a silent determination grew inside me. I didn't know how we would get out of there, but I knew that giving up was not an option. As terrified as I was, I would not allow Veronica to have control over us.

The room was lit by intermittent fluorescent lights, which cast unsettling shadows on the concrete walls. I was tense, but I kept my face up, refusing to give in to the terror that Veronica clearly wanted me to feel. Nancy, beside me, was visibly shaking, her hands gripping the hem of my shirt as if it could protect her. Veronica stood in front of us, wearing an impeccable red dress, a stark contrast to the decadent surroundings we found ourselves in. She was in control, and her satisfied smile made it clear. "So, Rachel," she began, crossing her arms and staring at me with a cold gaze. "We finally meet face to face." I didn't answer right away. My mind was busy trying to assess our chances of getting out of there alive. They weren't good. Veronica was dangerous, and I knew that better than anyone. "Where's the driver?" she asked, turning to the henchman who had brought us. "We just knocked him out," he replied, his voice firm. "He's lying on the street." Veronica nodded, a satisfied smile dancing on her lips. "Very well. We don't need to be unnecessarily cruel to everyone, do we?" I almost laughed at the irony. Cruelty was practically Veronica's trademark. She lived and breathed it. I decided to take a chance, trying to divert her attention from Nancy.

"You don't gain anything by getting rid of me, Veronica."

She turned to me, her smile widening.

"No?" she asked, her tone heavy with irony. "I get Vincenzo Morette back. The real Vincenzo."

The real Vincenzo? That hit me like a punch in the gut. I knew Vincenzo had a dark past, but I never imagined someone would refer to him that way.

"The executioner," I continued, trying to keep my voice steady, even though my mind was in turmoil.

Veronica laughed, a low, disdainful laugh.

"Oh, so you've heard that nickname?" She started walking toward me, her high heels echoing on the cold floor. "When Vincenzo was my right-hand man, someone had to extract information from the kidnapped. And no one did it better than him.

I felt like the ground was crumbling beneath my feet. This couldn't be true... could it? Vincenzo had never told me any details about his past with Veronica, and now I was beginning to understand why.

"He's very persuasive, you know?" she continued, with a cruel smile. "But tell me, my dear, did you really think those huge arms were only for grabbing beautiful women?"

She was trying to provoke me, trying to plant doubts in my mind. But instead of giving in, I decided to face her. I smiled boldly, keeping my gaze fixed on hers.

"Was that a compliment? Because if it was, thank you."

Her expression changed immediately. The smile disappeared, replaced by an expression of irritation. Before I could say anything else, Veronica turned to Nancy, who until then had remained silent next to me. "And who is this?" she asked, pointing with her chin. "Why is she here?"

The henchman nearby answered promptly:

"She was in the same car as Rachel." I thought it might be useful, so I brought both of them.

Veronica raised an eyebrow, clearly disapproving of the decision.

"Useful?" she repeated, almost in a whisper. "I don't see how."

She took a few steps toward Nancy, who immediately backed away, gripping my arm even tighter. I could feel her panic, and it only increased my determination to protect her.

"Do you know what we do with useless people?" Veronica asked, her voice as casual as if she were talking about the weather.

One of the henchmen, a tall, muscular man, began moving toward Nancy. His steps were slow, but carried an implicit threat. My heart began to pound so hard that I could barely hear anything other than the sound of blood pounding in my

ears.

"No!" I shouted, instinctively stepping in front of Nancy. "She has nothing to do with this!"

The henchman paused for a moment, but not out of hesitation. He seemed to be waiting for instructions from Veronica, who crossed her arms and watched me with a puzzled expression. and boredom.

"Really?" she asked. "Because to me, she seems like exactly the kind of person who would be disposable."

I knew I had to buy time, I had to find a way to get Nancy out of this situation. She was innocent, a collateral victim in something I had started.

"Think about it, Veronica," I continued, trying to keep my voice steady. "If you really want Vincenzo back, hurting Nancy won't help you. He'll never forgive you if you do that."

She laughed again, but this time it was colder, almost mechanical.

"Vincenzo has forgiven me for much worse, my dear. Do you really think he cares about the life of this... girl?"

The henchman took another step toward Nancy, and I felt like the ground was crumbling beneath my feet.

"Veronica, please!" I begged, my voice finally betraying the fear I felt. "This won't bring Vincenzo back. He's not the man you knew anymore."

She paused, watching me with an unreadable expression. For a moment, I thought my words had had some effect. But then she smiled again, that cruel smile that made my stomach turn.

"You may be right," she said, her tone almost casual. "But that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun in the process."

I was about to respond when the henchman, now only a few feet away from Nancy, raised his hand as if to grab her.