Claimed by the ruthless Mafia king

Her mother's letter

[Emma]

My whole body trembled violently as I shut the door to my mother's room. I turned around slowly to take in her things for the first time in years.

Not sure what to expect, I held my breath while my eyes swept the entire room in one quick glance.

Although my mother's things were dispersed all over the place, the room was strangely clean, like someone had taken his time to have it cleaned out recently.

None of the things looked familiar, none of them struck a memory, at least not immediately.

Slowly, and with shaky hands, I headed for the bed which was packed full with her things. I stopped when I got close enough, and only resumed walking when my eyes caught a white sheet of paper, folded neatly, and placed underneath the pile of clothes.

I pulled the paper out, and hesitated for a beat. I proceeded to open it, but there was a sudden bang on the door.

“Time up,” a voice called from outside, and was followed by more banging.

I had completely forgotten about the men outside and the saga I was in, but I wasn't about to hurry out of the bedroom now.

I opened the paper, and stared closely at the write up which I believed to be my mother's. At first, I couldn't pay any attention to the content of the letter, but how neatly and professionally the letters were written. Then the banging on the door sounded again, forcing me to look beyond the beauty of the handwriting.

“Micah….’”

The first line read. For reasons I couldn't tell, my hands trembled, and my breath hitched. Whatever laid beyond, whatever message my mother had communicated to my dad…

I had an uneasy feeling that it wasn't good.

I forced out a sigh, and redirected my focus to the write up.

“I would have willingly sacrificed myself to save our daughter. You didn't have to deceive me, and send me out here into the lion's den.”

I paused again while a shiver ran through my spine. Deceived? Save our daughter? I didn't want to believe any of these phrases. There were more, but I was suddenly incapable of continuing.

Did my father really deceive my mother into danger? Why? What were they saving me from? Or who? The lion's den she mentioned in her letter, what exactly did she mean?

In one quick movement, I hid the sheet of paper under my nightie, and supported it with my arms when I heard the doorknob turning.

The door was pushed open the next instant, and all three men appeared by the entrance. But they didn't meet me standing. They didn't meet me staring into space, wondering what my mother's letter really meant.

Instead, they found me by the heap of my mother's things, making a selection.

“Time up.” One of the men said, moving towards me with speed and anger.

“Please,” the words escaped my lips before I consented to it.

“Just a few more things.” I added with trembling.

There was a lot of her things lying on the bed. Clothes, jewelries, photos, bags, books. Lots of it.

I had no idea what to take from the collections. I wanted all of it but I knew it was not possible. I also knew this might be the last time I'd ever see them.

One of the men grabbed me by the arm, pulling me roughly.

“Are you deaf? I said Let's go.”

“Ple-plesse, I-I really need to–” I stopped talking at once, and winced instead when the pressure of his hold increased.

“Please, let me get a few things.” I pleaded amidst the pain I felt in my hand but he wouldn't listen, not until he was nudged on the ribs by one of the other men.

He let go of my hand rather reluctantly while I quickly got some of my mother's things. There was no selection this time. Whatever item I laid my hands on was my selection.

In less than a minute, I was done. I had a few of my mother's dresses, a black cashmere sweater, a tiny box I was sure contained a piece of jewelry, a few books, and of course, the letter tucked under my dress, which had luckily not fallen off when that monster grabbed my arm.

“Done now?” The man who had nudged the other man asked me.

I hesitated for a while, contemplating between nodding and adding more of my mother's things to what I had already selected. There was so much more to add, but there was no time, and there was also no means. None of these angry looking men would consent to carrying all these things, not even the man kind enough to nudge his colleague for my sake.

“Yes,” I said after a while.

“Thank you,” I added with a croaked voice while my eyes swept the things on the bed once more with longing.

“Get a box,” I couldn't tell which, but one of the men said with a hoarse tone.

I took a step forward, towards the wardrobe where I was sure to get one of my mother's box, but the same voice who had spoken a few seconds ago, stopped me.

“Not you, him.” He said with a much calmer voice. I didn't dare look to see who he was talking to even after I heard footsteps.

The wardrobe door was yanked open after a while and a blue box was brought out. In less than a minute, every of my mother's things which I selected was boxed.

“Let's go,” The man whom I had figured to be the leader of the group said, leading the way outside.

I followed behind him, and for a slight second, I wondered why I had my left arm pressed against my side. Then it hit me.

The letter!

I had totally forgotten about it!

My mother's distress call. No, my mother's letter of confrontation.

It was hard to believe, but my dad had a hand in the events that resulted to my mother's death, and right now, going out of the house with no hope to ever return, I feared I might never know the entire truth behind my mother's letter. Or her death.

I stopped walking when the man leading the way slowed down, and halted. The gate had pulled open, and a car was nosing into the compound.

My heart did a double flip when I realized that it was my dad, but I was not all excited to see him which was a first.

He raced out of the car, and charged towards us. I saw how his hands trembled as he was coming to us. I saw his lips quiver, but I couldn't bring myself to feel anything for him, instead I faced down, and focused on my toes while the part of the letter I read replayed in my head.

Soon I would complete the letter, and know what happened to her, and how exactly my father contributed to her death.

But the sound of a metallic snap forced me to look away from the floor, and look at my father instead.

All three men had their guns pointed to my father who now had stopped walking, and had his hands lifted above his head. His eyes darted from the men to me while his lips quivered even more.

There was silence, and a sudden tightness in my chest. They wouldn't do it, I kept telling myself. They wouldn't dare, I repeated in my head.

The silence lingered for a while then in a split second, I saw fire leave the leader's gun, and a scream tore out of my throat and escaped from my lips.

“No,” I screamed, throwing caution to the wind, and charging towards my dad who had fallen on the hard floor. One of the other men tried to stop me, but I yanked my hands from his hold.

The tightness in my chest had knotted even more now, and the tears which filled my eyes blurred my vision. I hated that I had judged him only moments ago, and believed that he had contributed to my mother's death based on a letter I wasn't so sure was my mother's. What if she was coerced into writing it?

“Don't touch him,” the leader of the group commanded in a still voice, and a cold shiver ran through my spine.

Daring, I took a few more steps towards my father but stopped when the sound of a metallic snap sounded again. He had his gun pointing at me this time.

“Move away from him.”