Chapter 3: A new hell

CHIARA P.O.V.

My heavy, hesitant steps lead me to my uncle's black Toyota, where Mrs. Laura is patiently waiting for me. The rain hits my umbrella, and the atmosphere is charged with an oppressive tension, I still don't want to say goodbye to my father. My heart is pounding in my chest.

Just as I'm about to get into the truck, a hail of bullets replaces the rain from the sky, causing chaos and panic among the wake guests. Piercing screams of women fill the space and the crowd disperses in all directions, desperately seeking refuge. I am surprised when instead of defending themselves, most of Aldo's men and other mobsters try to protect me, but they are overwhelmed by enemy fire coming from all sides. Soon they have to get deep into the battle for their lives and neglect my safety.

Then a man appears and holds me firmly by the forearm. His figure is imposing and his gaze surrounds me with an aura of danger. He is tall, with blond hair and piercing electric blue eyes. He's handsome like a Hollywood actor, but he also looks tough. From his features I understand that he is not Italian.

The man's intent is reflected in his eyes as he warns me with a threatening look not to move. He shakes his head, signaling me not to fight, not to try to escape. In that instant, something inside me snaps again. Resignation takes over me. I no longer have the strength to resist, to protect myself from anyone.

I nod, accepting my new fate. I let myself be led by the threatening man towards another black van, where another man whose face I cannot see waits for us in silence. My trembling hands caress the cool metal of the vehicle as I climb up. I take one last look at the chaos around me, and then someone places a black bag over my head, stealing my vision.

The darkness surrounds me, and plunges me into an abyss of uncertainty. I can't see the path that stretches out before me, I can only imagine the danger that surrounds us. My heart is pounding, but also a strange calm suddenly comes over me. It doesn't matter if I am in the hands of my uncle or strangers, I will always suffer.

There is no turning back, only the uncertain path that stretches out before me, leading me towards an unknown hell.

***

My hands are tied, I was handcuffed at some point, I guess it's a constant reminder that I'm their prisoner, though I never showed any signs of a struggle. The hood still covers my head, preventing me from seeing the world around me since we left the cemetery. But though my hope of surviving this is dormant—if not non-existent, my senses are alert, picking up on every sound, every word spoken around me.

I hear voices, but I can't understand what they are saying. The words flow in a foreign language, they are speaking in German. My knowledge is limited to Italian, so men's conversation is a mystery to me. But I don't worry about that, I don't care about anything anymore. My life is in the hands of others, and my resignation is stronger than any frustration I may experience.

After a trip that seemed short to me because I was lost in my thoughts, someone opens the door next to me and grabs my forearm. There is no violence in his grip, just a gentle indication that I must go down now. As soon as I'm out of the truck a gust of cold wind hits me and I feel my hair rise, sure we are in an open place, with no trees to protect us from the strong wind. I also hear more male voices in German, and engine noise, but I can't figure out what kind of engine.

After a long walk, the voice of the man who is holding me is present in my ear, pronouncing a few words in Italian.

“There are steps, be careful.”

Of course, he speaks without abandoning his thick German accent. I nod in response, and start up the steps with him.

Curiosity begins to rise in me—despite my resigned state. I want to know what lies beyond the darkness, and this new captivity. This makes me think of my uncle Aldo and Laura, I wonder if they have survived. It saddens me to realize that my uncle's death doesn't hurt me, but that also worries me, and makes me think that I am also losing humanity.

Finally, we reached the bottom of the stairs. As we walk together on stable ground the atmosphere changes, I can smell a clean smell and the coolness of the air conditioning. My senses sharpen as the blond man sits me up, and then he pulls the hood off my head.

My gaze focuses, and suddenly I am in front of him: Wolfgang. His deep eyes, dangerous and seductive, look at me with intensity. Wolfgang is the one who kidnapped me, and although I'm resigned, I feel a mixture of emotions inside me that I can't explain because they don't have a name yet.

However, I understand that this is my reality now, in the hands of a man who can be more cruel and ruthless than my uncle Aldo, because you didn't have to analyze it too much to realize that Wolfgang was not who he claimed to be, he deceived my uncle.

My voice has been silenced, but my thoughts and emotions remain my own, so I allow myself to admit, despite my condition, that Wolfgang is a beautiful man. He has hard features, but some soft ones that make him look elegant, especially because of the designer clothes he wears, his black dress suit, his gray dress shirt and his silver lions' head cufflinks.

As the man who brought me in talks in German with Wolfgang, I realize that I am sitting in the luxurious interior of a private jet. I am surprised by the elegance that surrounds me, because although mafiosi like my uncle have a lot of money, I grew up with my father in Verona and we were a humble family, and my uncle has never shared any of his money with me, but I don't want to either. your money. The soft leather seats fit snugly under me, and the dim lighting creates a mysterious and alluring atmosphere. It is a curious contrast, but the beauty of the surroundings cannot hide the reality of my captivity.

Wolfgang's partner in crime leaves after talking to Wolfgang. I didn't understand what they said to each other, but I could sense the tension in the air. When I am left alone with Wolfgang, silence settles in the jet, broken only by the soft purr of the plane's engines.

Wolfgang leans into his seat across from me, his eyes meeting mine, and I can feel the depth of his gaze. My heart surprisingly begins to pound, and not exactly out of fear. It's strange to feel something like this after so long, having shut myself off from the world since my father's death.

“Are you aware of your situation, Chiara Bianchi?” she asks me, emphasizing my unfortunate last name. It is not lost on me that, unlike his partner, Wolfgang speaks perfect Italian. Of course, Wolfgang's German accent is still in every word he utters. “You seem very calm, perhaps because you don't understand the seriousness of your situation. I kidnapped you to torture you, Chiara Bianchi, and it will not only be physical pain, I will inflict eternal wounds on you that will mark your dreams and turn them into nightmares."

I must be crazy, because the first thing I wanted to do was laugh, even though I wasn't crazy enough to do it. This man wanted to hurt me emotionally, and he's funny, because he thinks he beat my uncle. Aldo has destroyed all traces of hope and brightness in me, I feel withered and the fact that Wolfgang wants to contribute to that does not scare me at all. After everything I've lived, a life that has turned into constant torture, I don't visibly react to his words.

Of course, I cannot answer, my muteness prevents me from doing so. So instead of trying to explain myself, I look up at the sky. The sky is clear and blue now, a cruel reminder of the freedom that has been taken from me, a freedom that seems farther and farther away.

A minute later I look sideways at Wolfgang again. The silence emanating from my presence seems to finally bother him, I can see it in his perfect face.

"You're not going to answer me?" he rebukes me in a subtle threatening tone, I know he wants to keep him calm.

I'm curious why you care to hear my answer. Because, if he told me that talking can change this situation, he would be able to find the strength to utter a word, but I know it's not like that, talking has improved nothing in my life.

"Speak Now! I demand that you break your damn silence!”

I blink, surprised, and this time I can't help but let out a yelp mixed with a laugh, a laugh that stems from the irony of the situation. I find the desperation of a man who is only interested in torturing me amused, but who suddenly gets upset because I don't talk to him. So I decide to feel sorry for my captor and, using simple hand signals, I explain that I can't talk.

For a minute Wolfgang looks bewildered, for the first time I see that indifferent and dangerous face with a frown in confusion, as he looks all over my face.

"Then you can't talk," he wisely concludes, and settles back into his seat. "It's convenient for me, so I won't have to deal with your yelling."

I look at the sky again. A new hell with a different Hades. I think Wolfgang may be worse than my uncle, but nothing scares me like before.

At that moment, the hint of an idea is born in my mind, Wolfgang doesn't know me, nor does he know what I'm capable of, and that's exactly what will help me escape from my uncle's world and from the new hell that Wolfgang has led me to. dragged