Ambushed

Nella’s pov

It was Lucas.

Papa’s old friend.

Funny how he hadn’t shown his face at the funeral. For one stupid second, I thought maybe he was here to rescue me.

“You want to run from fate, huh?” He sucked his teeth, the sound wet and mocking. “Allow me to help you.”

He wasn’t on our side.

He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

I scanned for an exit, but we were boxed in — flashy cars gleaming under the headlights, engines idling like predators.

 Strong hands yanked us out of the cab. Rough. Efficient. Wrists zip-tied behind our backs, we were shoved into the lead SUV. 

The door slammed, and I lifted my head to look out, but the windows were black. 

Tinted. Impenetrable.

The drive was silent except for Tallia’s ragged breathing beside me. I kept my head down, trying to count turns, memorize distances—anything useful, but fear blurred everything.

We descended into an underground parking garage beneath what looked like a luxury car dealership. Rows of Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and  Bentleys shone under harsh fluorescents. The smell of oil and rubber choked the air as we were dragged out.

Lucas waited in the center of the empty bay, arms crossed.

His men forced us to our knees on the cold concrete.

Lucas paced slowly, studying our faces.

“Vito’s daughter,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “Which one of you is Nella Moretti?”

Tallia answered instantly. “Me. I’m Nella.”

I shot her a wide-eyed, panicked look. But she refused to meet my gaze.

Lucas crouched, grabbed her chin, tilted her head side to side.

“You look like him,” he murmured. “The eyes. The jaw.”

“What do you want from us?” I spat. “Just leave us alone.”

He released her and turned to me, studying longer.

“And you… same hair. Same skin. Same scared little tremble. But the eyes… those are different.”

He straightened. “Cousins?”

Tallia lifted her chin. “I told you. I’m Nella.”

“Damn me for not remembering what my friend’s daughter looks like,” Lucas drawled, pacing in small circles, sipping from a flask that smelled like vodka. “Well, I should know what she tastes like.”

Tallia shook violently. “Look, I’m Nella, and if you think you can hurt me, you’ll have yourself to blame.” Her voice cracked on the last word, but she kept cursing him—loud, desperate.

Her eyes told the truth. She was terrified. We both were.

Lucas nodded to one of his men. The man stepped forward, ripped off a strip of duct tape, and sealed Tallia’s mouth. Another man did the same to me. The garage fell silent except for our muffled whimpers.

“Whether you’re Nella or she is Nella,” Lucas said, pointing slowly between us with an evil smirk, “I intend for you both to meet the same fate. No one knows you tried to run. At least for now.”

My breath stopped.

Same fate?

His men laid Tallia flat on the hard concrete. They stripped her bare.

No.

No, no, no.

I shook my head frantically. This isn’t right.

Tallia fought, kicking and twisting—but they overpowered her easily. Somehow she tore the tape off her mouth.

“Ahhhh!! Somebody help!!!”

Her scream sliced through me like a blade. The worst part was that I couldn’t do anything.

I knelt there, hands tied, mouth taped, watching my best friend writhe in pain, dragged and brutalized, and I was powerless to stop it.

Neck leashed like a wild dog.

I begged through the tape—muffled, broken pleas.

“Take me instead! Deal with me—just don’t hurt her!”

They didn’t listen.

I watched them strip her completely. One man pinned her right leg, another her left.

I watched them brutalize her. Each aggressive thrust shattered another piece of my soul.

I cried until my vision blurred, chest tight, heart cracking open.

Watching them rough-handle my best friend was the kind of horror that never leaves your bones.

I didn’t know how long it lasted.

Time dissolved into screams and sobs and the sickening rhythm of violence.

When they finally finished, Tallia lay still—too still.

Blood pooled beneath her.

Her eyes stared at nothing.

Lucas stepped over her body like she was trash, crouched in front of me, and peeled the tape from my mouth.

“You’re next.” Lucas crouched lower, his breath hot and sour against my face. His fingers grazed my cheek—slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment before he broke me completely.

I jerked my head away, heart slamming so hard I thought it would crack my ribs.

He laughed—low, cruel—and reached for the hem of my hoodie.

Then the garage doors exploded inward.

Gunfire cracked through the air like thunder.

Lucas froze.

Headlights flooded the bay, blinding white. 

Engines roared. Tires screeched as black SUVs skidded to a halt, doors flying open before they even stopped.

Giovanni Macini stepped out first. 

Those tall, broad shoulders. His black coat billows behind him like smoke. The gun was already raised, steady as stone. His men poured out behind him—six, maybe eight—rifles up, moving with lethal precision.

Lucas’s smirk vanished.

“Macini,” he snarled.

Giovanni didn’t answer with words.

He fired once—a clean shot through the shoulder of the man holding me down. The grip on my arms released, and I felt free suddenly, collapsing forward.

Chaos erupted.

Lucas’s men returned fire. Bullets pinged off concrete, shattered glass from a nearby Lamborghini. 

Giovanni’s team advanced, calm and methodical, firing shots and dropping two of Lucas’s crew in seconds.

Lucas bolted.

He sprinted toward the far ramp, ducking behind cars, disappearing into the shadows like the rat he was.

Giovanni didn’t chase.

He lowered his gun and strode straight toward me.

His boots echoed on the concrete—slow and deliberate.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My eyes were locked on Tallia’s body a few meters away, blood still spreading beneath her.

Giovanni reached me first.

He dropped to one knee, coat pooling around him. His free hand cupped my face—firm, warm, steadying. Blood from my split lip smeared across his thumb.

Then I saw his face. He was too beautiful to be brutal.

He looked at Tallia—long, silent—then back at me.

His voice was low, rough, cutting through the ringing in my ears.

“What’s your name?”

I tried to speak.

“Nell—”

The word broke off.

The world tilted.

Darkness rushed in from the edges—shock, grief, and exhaustion.

I swayed.

Giovanni caught me before I hit the ground.

His arms wrapped around me—strong, unyielding, as my knees buckled.

“Easy,” he murmured against my hair. “I’ve got you.”

I felt his heartbeat against my cheek—steady and fast.

Then everything went black.