Chapter 84 Pawn Of A Twisted Game

• The dungeon was silent except for the sound of Stefano’s breathing. Heavy. Rough. Like a man dragging air through a throat filled with stones. His eyes, sharp with fury, had grown tired of Serena’s trembling pleas, but something gnawed at him still.
• She had broken, she had spoken, and she had confessed that her people had left her to rot in the shadows of his prison. Yet her words about the tracker had stirred a sliver of curiosity in him, and Stefano De Ricco was not a man who ignored curiosity when it pulled at him like a thread unraveling a greater truth.
• He held the bloody small device in his hand, its metallic surface cold, unassuming, nothing more than a foreign intrusion beneath her skin. He had cut it out with his own knife, his hand steady while Serena screamed and begged him to stop. He had not wavered, not once. His wrath demanded proof, and now proof sat in his palm like a silent answer.