Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Panic fills my veins, making me want to scream, but I stop myself just before I do, covering my mouth with my hand. What if they hear me, and stop to find me here? Marcello would probably be so mad that he’d want to punish me … or worse … lock me inside his home, forever.
And that is a fate worse than death.
Even if his house is a luxurious prison with servants and lavish gifts, I am still a prisoner there, and I can’t be contained like that.
I need to be free.
No matter how much my body aches for his, no matter how much my heart is trying to tell me to stay put and wait, I just can’t.
When I saw the opportunity to flee this place, I knew I needed to take it, both for my sake as well as for my parents. I can only hope Marcello won’t be too pissed when he discovers I’m gone.
The question is, though, will I be able to escape the scene of the crime once we get to our destination? Not that I know where the hell we’re going, and if we’re even going to get there in one piece.
I shiver as the truck keeps on driving, the road seemingly endless. Time passes slowly when you’re in the dark and stuck between bare metal and loaded weapons. I try not to think about it, but every bump in the road forces the barrel to push farther into my waist, and it’s causing my heart rate to spike.
Suddenly, the truck comes to a halt, and adrenaline courses through my veins.
“Go, go, go!” Marcello shouts.
There’s bustling and rummaging, and the doors at the back open. Men hop inside, lifting out the guns in packs as though it comes naturally to them. I stay hidden in the back behind some crates that I pray they won’t check and won’t need.
“Hurry up!” Claudio yells at the men. “There isn’t much time left!”
I’ve never heard their voices so unhinged, so tense. And it freaks me the fuck out.
With my heart beating in my throat, I take the plunge and peek out from beyond the crate. We’re in the middle of the docks near some warehouses. Luckily, no one sees me, as Marcello’s men are all busy talking about their strategy. They clutch their guns closely to their chest, the sheer size of them making me swallow hard.
Suddenly, gunfire erupts. I gasp and cover my mouth to stop the squeal from escaping.
I swiftly move back to my spot and cower in fear.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
It’s already happening.
There’s no more time.
No time to leave, no time to call for help.
Shots and blasts are everywhere, popping my eardrums, bombarding my senses. I huddle on my knees in the corner and cover my ears in the hopes that my eardrums don’t shatter. It feels as though I’m in a dream, like I’m about to snap to and wake, but that’s only make-believe, a story I tell to comfort myself in the midst of a war breaking out between rival gangs.
“To the left!” Marcello yells, his voice making my heart stop beating for a second.
A tear rolls down my cheeks, knowing he’s still alive and well.
Even when I told myself I didn’t care, I do. I fucking do, and it’s so damn scary not knowing whether he’ll live or die … and what fate I will have to face once this is all over.
“Don’t fucking give up!” Claudio yells to the men, and they respond with a brazen grunt, as though all of them have been emblazoned by his call. “We’ve almost won!”
The gunfire goes on for a few more minutes, people screaming and shouting left and right. I don’t dare look at the carnage, don’t dare to escape in the middle of the war, don’t dare to stand and see whether or not Marcello will make it out alive.
Not long afterward, the last few bullets ricochet, and the whole place goes quiet. I wonder if anyone at all made it out alive. The need to know outweighs the wish to stay hidden, and I creep out from my crate to have a peek, hoping no one spots me here.
And maybe, just maybe, it will be safe enough to flee unseen and escape into the night, far away from this deadly ordeal.
“Hello, Marcello …”
My eyes widen at the sound of that voice. A voice I haven’t heard in such a long time, I thought it had disappeared forever.
And my lips mutter the words before I’ve even had a chance to look. But I already know who it is, and the mere thought makes my heart drop.
“Dad?”
Marcello
A few minutes ago
Something isn’t adding up.
Igor had to have known I wouldn’t come and offer myself up as a sacrificial lamb. Clearly, he did, because he stationed men around the area who opened fire as soon as they saw I came armed and with backup.