5

SIERRA

I rushed to him before I could think. “What happened?”

He collapsed into my arms while hardly breathing. “Hide now. There was an ambush.”

My stomach dropped. “A-Ambush?”

“Hide now!”

I flinched when he yelled.

Hide! How? Where?

I was about to run to the closet to hide but stopped and looked at Alessandro. Seeing his blood dripping from his hand, I knew he was losing blood.

Should I… help him? After all, he didn't hurt me while staying here.

Even though I was hesitating, I still dragged him to the couch, grabbed towels, and pressed them against the wound. He winced in pain and gritted his teeth.

I thought he could endure one bullet, why is he wincing now? Could it be that his vital organ was also hit?

“You need a doctor,”

“No time,” he rasped. “They’re coming. Go to my room and hide in my closet now.”

I stared at him, confused.

Is he concerned about me? Why?

This wasn’t part of the plan. None of it was part of my plan. I was supposed to escape, not save him. But something twisted inside me, something inconvenient… something like care.

I looked at the blood on my hands, at the bleeding Alessandro, and at the window where outside were raining bullets.

Is this mafia Don a real danger?

Or

Am I safe if I’m with him?

*****

I woke up, flinching at Alessandro's barking in the distance. I looked around to find him, but I'm all alone in my room, lying on the couch with a blanket covering me.

I abruptly stood up.

What happened? Where’s that criminal? He did not die next to me, right?

“NOT THERE!”

I flinched again at Alessandro's voice. He sounded angry.

I peeked at the window and saw him yelling orders to his men as if the wound on his side was just a paper cut. I thought he was dying last night. I shouldn't have helped him.

I walked out of the house and headed to where he was. I saw him at the far edge of the mansion, where the land dipped into a grove of trees and the grass still smelled like gunpowder.

I crept closer as curiosity crawled on me. I wanted to see what had happened. Who had died? Who's the culprit? What secrets was the earth swallowing? But before I could take another step, he turned.

“No,” he said sharply.

“No, what?”

“You’re not going any closer.”

I crossed my arms. “You don’t get to tell me where I can walk. I’m your wife, not your pet.”

He walked toward me, still carefully with his side, but with enough menace to make the wind change direction.

I hate that charisma.

“Exactly. You’re my wife, so you don’t need to see this.”

“Oh, so now you’re protecting me? That’s rich coming from the man who married me at gunpoint.”

He scoffed. “This isn’t about you. It’s about what’s out there.”

I tried to look past him, but he blocked my view like a frowning wall.

“What happened?”

“Cleanup,” he said. “Loose ends.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You mean bodies?”

They clean up the bodies? Is that why they are digging? So, all this time, this place was a cemetery of his people?!

He didn’t answer and just turned to his men. “Don't let her pass this line. I don’t care if she’s wearing a crown or carrying a bazooka.”

One of the guards looked at me apologetically and another just looked terrified.

I scoffed and stepped closer to him. “You think I haven’t seen blood before?”

He scoffed and stepped even closer, leaning in until I felt his breath on my face. “Not like this.”

I stared at him, at the man who had bled on my side last night, who I thought had nearly died, and who was now treating me like a porcelain doll with a vendetta.

Does he really care or is he hiding something I shouldn't see?

“I’m just curious,”

“Don't be reckless.”

“I’m married to a mafia don. Reckless is my new perfume.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He muttered something in Italian that probably translated to ‘Why did I marry a hurricane?’

Did he regret marrying me now? That question made me smirk. I will make your head hurt until you let me go.

He then forced me to turn and gently pushed me. “Go back inside.”

“No.”

“Please.”

I gasped, clutching my hand on my chest, taken aback by his choice of word.

Please? Please?! He said please? Someone like him know that word?

That word was a first from him and it hit differently.

He stared at me with a frown, waiting for me to move and step away from his face. He said "please," but it didn't sound pleading.

My hands slowly clenched as I turned on my heel and walked away.

“Don't linger around here and busy yourself making a plan. You’re running out of alphabets!”

I smirked and didn’t look back.

Fine! It’s not my business anymore. I should be busy on how to escape from here.

I headed to my room, pacing in front of the window. But the tall concrete wall caught my attention. It's making me even more annoyed.

“Why is it so high? Is he that scared that authorities might find out what he has been doing here?”

Burying people without proper ceremonies.

A knock on the door diverted my attention. It was the maid announcing lunchtime. I headed downstairs and was taken aback to see Alessandro already eating.

Should I go back to my room and wait for this man to vanish before I eat?

But I have high pride. So I sat down in front of him and ate my food. I stabbed at my roasted duck with the elegance of a woman plotting her next escape.

He then met my eyes as he grabbed his glass of whiskey. He sipped his bourbon slowly, eyes fixed on me like I was a chess piece he couldn’t quite corner.

I scoffed and chewed the meat, glaring at him sternly. I really hate the way he looks as if he’s enjoying annoying me.

But suddenly, he froze mid-sip, causing me to stop chewing as well.

His hand trembled around the glass before it slipped from his fingers and shattered against the floor.

I stood up instantly. “What–?”

He clutched his stomach as his eyes darted to mine with fury.

“You,” he gritted his teeth.

“Me?”

“What did you do?”

My brows furrowed. “What did I do?”

“You poisoned me,” he growled, his voice thick with rage and pain.

My eyes widened. “I didn’t–”

“Lock her up!” he roared, hardly breathing before he collapsed to one knee.

My blood turned to ice as I stepped back. Before I could protest, two armed men grabbed my arms. They were dragging me away from him as he writhed on the floor.

“I didn’t touch your drink, Alessandro! I swear!” I screamed, struggling against their painful grip. “You know I didn’t!”

DAMN IT! AM I A REAL PRISONER NOW?!