THE MAFIA'S PRISONER

Chateau Lavigne stood trembling, her legs barely able to hold her up against the suffocating fear.

She had just been returning some change after delivering supplies to a regular customer. The route was one she knew well, and she had thought she didn’t need a ride or company. But now, on her way back, she regretted every polite refusal.

Four men were tailing her. She had first noticed them at her customer’s place. One of them had even offered her a ride earlier when her bike chain had slipped. Their insistence had seemed suspicious, so she had refused. Her instincts had been right. No matter how fast she pedaled, they kept up.

Panic overtook her, forcing her to push harder, but fate played a cruel joke—her chain slipped again, leaving her stranded.

Desperation took over as she veered into a narrow alley, only to find it blocked by a towering wall. She was trapped.

“Well, lady, seems your bike’s useless now. Still refusing our help?” The big one stepped forward, his towering frame looming just meters away. His grin sent chills through her, and the others eyed her like wolves circling their prey.

She swallowed her fear, forcing her shaky voice to steady. “Who are you? What is your business with me?”

Their laughter filled the alley. “We’re Meute Sangria’s men,” one said. “We’re here to take you.”

“Meute Sangria?” The name was foreign to her. “Take me where? Do you know my father?”

The man smirked. “No need for permission. You’re already ours.”

His words made no sense, and dread seeped into her chest as he continued, “You’ll be a star, lady—a prized entertainer in our world.”

Before she could respond, another voice cut through the tension. “Back off. She belongs to our boss.”

She whipped around, spotting a new group entering the alley. The leader of the newcomers met the first group with a cold glare.

“Les Veilleurs?” the first man growled.

“That’s right,” the newcomer replied. “We’ve come to take Chateau Lavigne.”

Her heart sank further. What was happening?

“W-wait! Why? Who are you?” she stammered, desperation creeping into her voice.

The newcomer sneered. “Your father owes our boss a debt. To settle it, you’ll become his wife.”

Her legs weakened. “Wife?” The word felt foreign on her tongue, her mind spinning. “How could my father…? He never told me—”

“Enough talk,” another Les Veilleurs member interrupted. “She’s coming with us.”

The two groups squared off, exchanging threats. She shrank against the wall, her mind racing for an escape that didn’t exist.

The standoff escalated. Tension crackled in the air as weapons were drawn—knives glinting in the dim light. Her chest tightened as hopelessness settled in.

Then a calm voice rang out. “That’s enough.”

Everyone froze. Chateau turned toward the voice, her gaze landing on a lone man standing at the alley’s entrance. His presence seemed to still the air itself, his cold, calculating eyes sweeping over the scene before settling on her.

“Who the hell are you?” one of the Meute Sangria men barked.

The man’s response was measured, his voice steady. “Leonard Hugues... my name.”

The name elicited murmurs of shock. Both groups clearly recognized it. Leonard Hugues, a high-ranking executive of the notorious Lafleur, had a reputation that preceded him.

Despite the murmurs, the bearded man tightened his grip on Chateau, making her wince in pain.

“Don’t hurt her,” Leonard said, his tone firm.

“What’s it to you?” the man challenged. “Is she your lover?”

“No,” Leonard replied evenly, his gaze locked on Chateau’s terrified face.

Chateau stared at him, her hope mingled with apprehension. Was Leonard here to help her, or would he add to her troubles?

The bearded man laughed, his grip on Chateau tightening further. “Then why are you here? Do you want a piece of her too? Is she your payment for some debt?”

Leonard’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “Careful. You’ll make her cry.”

Without hesitation, he drew a silver gun, its gleam stark against the dim alley. The sight of the weapon silenced all jeers, tension thickening as Leonard leveled it at the men.

“Give her to me,” his voice calm, yet demanding.

The Meute Sangria men laughed nervously. “You think a gun will scare us? You’re outnumbered.”

Leonard’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have weapons strong enough to stop me. Hand her over, or I’ll kill you all right here.”

The threat hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. But the Meute Sangria men didn’t back down, their knives glinting as they advanced.

Leonard holstered his gun with a calmness that unnerved everyone. “She’s mine, so get your asses out of here before I make you regret it.”

“What if we refuse, Mr. Executive? What you gon’ do to us?”

“Well, let’s find out.”

In a blur of movement, Leonard lunged, his lean frame belying his strength and speed. He incapacitated one man after another, his strikes precise and unrelenting. Chateau could only watch in stunned silence, caught between awe and fear.

When an opening presented itself, Leonard seized Chateau’s wrist, pulling her toward him. She stumbled but was steadied by his firm grip.

Chateau thought Leonard was a hero who had truly come to save her, but that notion ended with the embrace. The truth was, Leonard was far more dangerous.

Two shots rang out, the deafening noise reverberating through the narrow alley. He firing the bullets directly into the heads of the men from the Les Veilleurs and Meute Sangria.

Chateau wasn’t deaf, but the deafening sound seemed to momentarily rob her of her hearing.

It was the first time she had heard the sound of gunfire, and the first time she had witnessed someone being killed.

“Take them back and send my regards to anyone who fails to bring this girl,” Leonard said, showing no remorse for silencing two mouths forever.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he added, his voice sharp and deliberate,c“I’m not her lover, but this girl is mine. Take it a note.”

The men hesitated, then scattered, leaving Leonard and Chateau alone in the alley.

Chateau looked up at him, trembling. He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak, his cold gaze sweeping over the scene. In his eyes, she saw no remorse—only calm, calculated control.

And in that moment, Chateau realized Leonard Hugues was no savior. He was a storm he had been swept into, and she might be in a true danger after falling into his grab.