LOGINL A N A
The four men behind him are huge, all of them wearing the same matching black suits, all of them moving with the same precision, scanning the room suspiciously as they stick to the man in front of them. Are they... bodyguards?
"Don't stare for too long or you'll get yourself in trouble." I hear the voice of the bartender, and that's when I look back at him, curiously, noticing that even he is trying to keep his head low.
"Who is that...?" I suddenly find myself asking for God knows what ever reason. The bartender pauses what he's doing and looks back at me as if I've just asked the most absurd question on the planet.
A deep frown settles on his brows, and he glances around a few times as if to check if anyone is listening. "How can you be here and not know who that is...?" He asks, his voice quiet and low, and my heart won't stop racing in my chest. What is he not telling me?
"That's Ezio Benedetti." He whispers as if I'm supposed to know who that is. More confusion reigns on my face as I glance back at the man, watching as he strides through the club like he owns every inch of it. I look back at the bartender and find his expression fixed on someone, Ezio, I presume, and in a moment, his expression turns cold.
The bartender shifts closer to me, his voice still low. "Whatever you do, don't react. Just breathe." He tries to say, but all it does is make me even more nervous.
"Why, what's going on?" I whisper to him, feeling too scared to turn around.
"Don't make eye contact. Stay calm. You're just a guest." He says, refusing to answer my question, and I breathe slowly to try and calm myself, picking up my drink and taking a large gulp of it as I feel the alcohol slowly hit my body.
My hands suddenly go clammy, and I find it hard to keep still. I'm supposed to be ordering an Uber right now and getting out of here, not trying to figure out who this mysterious man with 4 bodyguards is...
I subtly turn back and watch as Ezio walks with effortless grace to the back of the lounge. His men, just as sharp, just as silent, move closely behind him. He stops beside a man sitting at a private corner booth. They don't shake hands. They don't smile. The man simply looks up at Ezio, staring as if he's seen a ghost, the men around him suddenly standing to their feet in pure terror.
Then, what happens next leaves me completely stunned...
It happens in a split second.
One second, Ezio is saying something to the man across from him, watching him seemingly plead for his life, the next, he is whipping out his gun faster than the eye can catch and shoots the man at point-blank.
I jolt, before my entire body freezes.
The gunshot is sharp. Not explosive or too loud. Instead, it's muffled and controlled through the silencer fitted at its tip. The music cuts for a second, the instrumentalists momentarily stunned, before they take a look at each other... and then... they continue playing... like nothing just happened.
What.. the actual... fuck...
The man Ezio was speaking to slumps sideways in the booth, with a gunshot wound to his forehead, blood spewing out the back of his head and spilling onto the floor.
I glance around the room and notice how no one else reacts; in fact, everyone is perfectly calm despite a man just getting shot and killed in front of them.
My throat closes up. My brain stops processing.
Did I just see that? Didn't everyone else see that?! Why am I the only one giving a normal reaction?
Ezio steps back, placing his gun back in his pocket and adjusting his jacket. Two of the men standing behind him step forward to carry the dead man out of the room, and more men pile in with cleaning supplies, moving towards the areas where the deceased man had spilt blood.
Okay, what the fuck is this place?!
People go back to their drinks. Slowly. Like this is routine. Like this is just another Tuesday night.
But me, on the other hand? I can't move.
I can't pretend I didn't see what I just saw. My breath catches in my chest, and that's when Ezio turns and locks eyes with me. That's when I feel the air sucked out of my lungs, my blood turning cold.
He smirks right at me, a slow, evil smile that says, 'You saw. I know you did.' Except he is not at all sorry that I did...
I try to look away, but I can't. I feel pinned to the seat, like a rabbit in a trap.
He lifts two fingers and gestures, ordering the remaining two men behind him to approach me.No. No. No.
That's when I slide off the barstool without thinking, my heart pounding so hard, the fear causing a knot to form in my throat and my stomach. As I stand up, a wave hits me harshly, and that's when I feel the alcohol start to kick in. No... no, no, no, no... this can't be happening to me right now...
"Don't run," the bartender says under his breath, making an attempt to talk some sense into me.
But I'm already on my feet, with the only intention of getting the fuck out of here. I take off sprinting towards the lounge doors, watching them draw closer and closer. I'm almost completely through them, until I collide with two bodies in front of me, two large men who had been standing close to the entrance this whole time.
I gasp as I stumble back, staring back at them fearfully and glancing around at where else I can go. I turn my head to the receptionist from earlier, hoping she would help me in some sort of way, but all she does is watch me with raised eyebrows, as if I'm the only strange one here. I continue backing away, my back bumps into something that makes me gasp, more men... more of his bodyguards. They all surround me, staring down at me with cold, robotic gazes. That's when two of them grab and turn me around, beginning to haul me back into the lounge as I begin struggling against their hold, exasperated breaths leaving my lips as I look up at them fearfully.
"L-let me go... please!" I begin fighting them as they lift me off the ground effortlessly, holding me by my arms as if I weighed nothing. And that's when I realise that they're taking me right towards him... towards the man they call Ezio Benedetti...
L A N AI stare at my reflection for a long moment, barely recognising the woman looking back at me.My makeup is smeared beneath my eyes, dark shadows carved there from crying too hard, too often, my mascara clinging stubbornly to skin that feels sore and tight. My hair is tangled, flattened in places from fingers running through it in panic, from hands pressing to my scalp as if that might keep my thoughts from spilling out and from how much I had been sweating. I look tired in a way sleep does not fix andtired in a way that sinks into bone and lingers.This is the second time tonight I am standing in front of a mirror like this.The first was hours ago, in a bathroom that smelled like champagne and perfume, right after I caught my fiancé in bed with my best friend, and I made a run for it, before ending up at a Mafia leader's lounge and getting taken to his house against my will, right after my life split cleanly down the middle. Back then, I thought heartbreak was the worst thing
L A N ADaniella leads the way without saying a word, and I follow a few steps behind her, my shoes quiet against the smooth floors, my body still moving on borrowed energy. The halls stretch long and clean, nothing like the looming luxury of Ezio’s estate, and yet just as intimidating in a different way, because this place feels lived in, functional, purposeful. The lighting is soft and warm, recessed into the ceiling instead of hanging over us like a display, and the walls are decorated with modern art that I do not recognise but instinctively understand costs more than I could ever imagine affording.No one stops us, no guards step into our path, and no eyes linger too long.And it is strange how unsettling that is.I keep waiting for something to happen, for a voice to bark an order, for hands to reach for me, for the familiar tightening in my chest that comes when I know I am about to be told what to do. But none of that comes. Daniella simply walks, confident and unhurried, like
L A N AI am painfully aware of how small I feel standing here.Not just physically, though that is impossible to ignore, the way Dante stands taller than everyone else in the room, the way his presence seems to take up space without effort, but emotionally too, like I am a child who wandered into a world I was never meant to see. My skin feels too tight, my nerves stretched thin, every sound and movement registering too loudly inside me.“She’s shaken up,” Dante says, his voice calm but not cold. “It’s been a hellish night.”The way he says it makes my stomach turn, because it feels like an understatement and a mercy all at once. Hellish does not begin to describe the images burned into my mind, the blood, the screams, the way death arrived without warning or ceremony. I keep my eyes down, afraid that if I meet anyone’s gaze for too long, I might break apart completely.“Poor thing looks like she’s seen a ghost,” Daniella replies, and there is genuine concern in her tone, something w
L A N AThe silence in the car makes me sick to my stomach, so much so that I feel even my quiet breaths might be too loud for this space. I look out the window, much calmer now and watch as streetlights pass by in long, glowing stretches, their reflections sliding across the window beside me, and I watch my own face appear and disappear in the glass, pale and unfamiliar, like I am already someone else. My hands are folded tightly in my lap, fingers clutching onto the fabric of my dress as though it might keep me anchored to reality, as though I might drift away if I loosen my grip for even a second.Everything inside me feels overstimulated and numb at the same time.My ears still ring faintly, the echo of gunfire now burned into my memory, and every sudden sound outside makes my shoulders tense, my breath catching before I can stop it. The silence inside the car feels so fragile, like it could shatter at any moment, and I don’t know whether I’m afraid of the noise returning or terri
L A N AHe stops a few feet away from me, crouching slowly until we are almost at eye level, his gaze searching my face with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. I expect cruelty, a demand or another command that strips away what little control I have left.But instead, his voice comes out calm, almost gentle...“Are you hurt?” He says softly.The question catches me off guard so completely that for a moment, I cannot answer. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I shake my head weakly, my entire body trembling as I try to understand what is happening."N-no..." I finally let out, my heartbeat thumping in my throat.In distant parts of the house, the fight continues, gunfire echoing through the space, men shouting orders, but here, in this small pocket of stillness, everything feels unreal.Dante glances behind him once before exhaling softly and standing to his feet, looking down at me and extending a hand toward me.“Come with me,” he says. “Now.”His gaze focuses on me, patie
L A N AI am shaking so badly I can barely stand.This is war.A pure, living, breathing nightmare unfolding around me. The man holding onto my arm only tightens his grip as we make our way forward. I twist in his hold, panic clawing its way up my throat as I try to pull free, but he is stronger than me, dragging me down a narrow lit up by tungsten lights, the mansion changing as we move deeper into it.That's when Ezio’s words repeat in my head."Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere."And the more they resonate in my mind, the more sick to my stomach I feel. Even in the middle of a full-blown gun fight, he still won't let me go. Even with bullets flying and men dying all around us, he is still thinking about me. Still claiming me and refusing to let me disappear. He doesn't consider me as collateral damage... I am his property, something that's meant to be retrieved, secured, and locked back into place once the blood dries.More gunshots ring out in the house, causing me to cry out and


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