Separated and Surrounded
810 Words
The server room felt impossibly small. Every hum of the machines now sounded like a heartbeat—my heartbeat—pounding against the cage of my ribs.
Matteo stood still, observing me like a predator sizing up prey. Calm. Dangerous. Unmoving, but his energy filled the room with tension sharp enough to cut.
“Step away from the tablet,” he said, voice low, almost casual—but it carried the weight of authority and lethal threat.
I froze.
I couldn’t step away. Not when my parents’ lives depended on the numbers moving across that screen.
“Do it, and I swear I’ll—” I started, but he cut me off with a slow shake of his head.
“No. You don’t get to swear. You don’t get to bargain. You’re in my house now. And in my house… rules are different.”
I swallowed hard, keeping my gaze steady, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
Behind me, the door slammed shut with a metallic clang. My stomach twisted.
I whipped around, but the hallway was already sealed. Security shutters slid down the windows; thick steel bars dropped into place across vents. We were cut off. Jonah. Mila. Gone. Outside contact vanished.
“Now we see how clever you really are,” Matteo said, stepping closer, the shadows of the servers stretching across his face, making him look inhuman. “And yet… you’ve trapped yourself in a cage you don’t even understand.”
I tried to reason, to buy time. “I don’t want trouble. I just… I need the money to save my parents.”
His eyes flickered—interest, amusement, something darker. “And that’s why you’re reckless. Noble. Foolish. All at once. You could have walked away, yet you chose to come here, to risk everything.”
“Because I have to,” I replied firmly. “Because I can’t do nothing.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “Interesting. Most people beg for mercy at this point. Most people collapse into tears. You… you stand. Bold. Defiant. Dangerous.”
I felt a shiver that wasn’t entirely fear.
Suddenly, alarms blared—high-pitched, urgent, echoing through the server room. Red lights bathed the walls in warning.
Matteo’s eyes narrowed. “So,” he said, his voice calm despite the chaos, “this is where the game begins.”
Footsteps pounded from the hallways outside. Armed guards stormed the room.
I pivoted toward the tablet. Mila’s work had been interrupted, the transfer incomplete. We had only a partial movement.
“Stay calm,” Matteo said, stepping between me and the servers. He moved smoothly, deliberately, positioning himself as both shield and barrier.
The guards entered, weapons drawn, scanning the room. Matteo’s hand twitched toward the nearest one. A soft click, and the guard froze mid-step, paralyzed—not from fear of me, but from Matteo.
I realized then the terrifying truth: this man didn’t need to raise a finger. The room obeyed him.
“Seize her,” one guard barked.
Matteo’s lips curved slightly. “Seize her? I think not.”
Within seconds, the guards halted, unsure, confused, as if invisible strings held them in place.
I clenched my fists, ready to run. Escape was still possible—but only barely.
Then came the sound of the other vent sliding open. A shadow slipped inside—Jonah. He looked frantic, panicked, holding a small EMP device, ready to disable the servers.
“Mila!” I shouted into my earpiece. No answer.
Jonah’s eyes met mine. “We need to move. Now!”
I nodded, and together we sprinted toward the vent Matteo hadn’t blocked.
He let us go—at first. Watching, silent, a predator observing prey test its boundaries.
But before we could fully escape, he spoke again: “You’re fast. Clever. But cleverness alone won’t save you. And speed…”
My chest tightened. “Speed what?”
He smiled slowly, impossibly calm. “Speed will be meaningless if the trap closes. And it always closes.”
Jonah shoved me into the vent, pulling himself after me.
Metal scraped under our hands as we crawled through the narrow shaft. The hum of alarms chased us, and my breath came in short, jagged gasps.
Behind us, I could hear Matteo’s voice—soft, almost amused: “Run, little prey. Run. But remember—running is only part of the fun.”
The vent opened into a storage room, cluttered with crates and shadows. For the first time in minutes, I breathed a little easier.
But relief was temporary.
The Black Crown Syndicate wasn’t just a building. It was a labyrinth. And Matteo De Luca was already two steps ahead.
By the time we peered out of the storage room, the reality hit: we were trapped. And the real hunt had just begun.
- Writer
