The-Basement
1375 Words
Elena got home just after 4am in the morning.
The apartment was silent, wrapped in the kind of quiet that only existed when the world was still asleep. She slipped off her shoes by the door and moved carefully down the narrow hallway.
Her mother lay curled on the bed, breathing slowly and evenly, her chest rising gently beneath the thin blanket. Elena stood there for a moment, watching her, relief washing over her when she confirmed she was fast asleep. She adjusted the blanket slightly and brushed a stray curl away from her mother’s face.
Only then did she allow herself to breathe.
She took a quick shower, letting the warm water run over her tense muscles, washing away the lingering scent of smoke and alcohol from the club. But no matter how long she stood there, the night refused to rinse clean.
When she finally climbed into bed beside her mother, she did so quietly, careful not to disturb her. Her body ached with exhaustion, but sleep refused to come.
Her mind replayed everything.
The VIP lounge.
The slap.
His eyes.
Alessandro De Luca.
For reasons she didn’t fully understand, her thoughts lingered on him longer than they should have. Beneath the anger, beneath the arrogance and power, she had seen something else—something raw and unfinished. A boy buried deep inside a man who had learned too early how to be hard.
Someone craving something he would never admit to needing.
Love.
She exhaled sharply and shook her head.
“Impossible,” she whispered into the darkness.
Someone like Alessandro didn’t have room for love. Men like him survived on fear, not feeling.
Her thoughts shifted again, unease creeping in as she remembered Emily’s warning—the De Lucas would always get revenge.
Should she quit?
The question gnawed at her. But just as quickly, she dismissed it. If Alessandro had wanted to punish her, he would have done it there and then. He hadn’t. And she refused to let fear rob her of one thing: keeping her mother alive.
She turned on her side, then the other.
The sheets twisted beneath her restless movements.
A soft stir beside her made her freeze.
“Elena?” her mother murmured sleepily. “Are you okay?”
Guilt tightened Elena’s chest. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
Her mother turned slightly, eyes heavy with sleep. “You’re working too hard.”
“I know,” Elena said gently, smoothing the blanket over her. “Go back to sleep, I’m fine.”
Her mother hesitated, then nodded, drifting back into sleep within moments.
Elena lay awake beside her, staring up as dawn slowly crept closer.
Sleep never came.
Elena went to work earlier than scheduled the next day.
After dropping her mother off at the hospital for her treatment, she couldn’t bring herself to return home. The waiting, the silence—it felt unbearable. So instead, she went straight to the club, hoping the familiar routine would distract her.
She clocked in quietly. The club was still empty, the lights dim, the air heavy with the faint scent of last night’s alcohol. Wanting to keep busy, she headed towards the VIP lounge to straighten it up before guests arrived.
That was when she saw him.
A figure moved swiftly across the far end of the lounge, tall, broad-shouldered,
Alessandro.
Her steps slowed as she watched him reach a section of the wall she had never paid attention to before. He opened a narrow door, almost indivisible, blending perfectly with the dark paneling, and he disappeared inside. The door shut just as quickly.
Elena stopped breathing.
That door wasn’t here yesterday…was it?
Confusion churned in her chest. She glanced around the lounge. No one was watching. The place was empty.
She told herself to walk away.
Something deep inside warned her not to touch that door.
But curiosity had always been her weakness.
Heart pounding, she moved closer and pulled it open.
Darkness greeted her.
The door led to a stairway descending underground. The air felt colder, heavier. Fear curled tightly around her spine. She should leave now. She took a step back—
Then she heard voices.
Muffled. Angry.
Her pulse roared in her ears as curiosity overpowered fear. Slowly, carefully, she began to descend the stairs.
Then-
Gunshots.
The sound echoed violently through the space.
Elena froze.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat. She turned to retreat, moving as quietly, but her foot struck an empty beer can.
Clang.
Her blood turned to ice.
“Go check that,” Alessandro’s voice ordered sharply.
Elena slapped a hand over her mouth to silence her breathing and crouched behind the stairs, pressing herself into the shadows.
From there, she could see everything.
A man was tied to a chair in the center of the basement; his body was battered beyond recognition—blood oozed from open wounds, his face swollen, barely human. He was barely alive.
Alessandro stood before him, rage etched into every line of his body.
“Who paid you to betray me?” Alessandro asked the man.
The man coughed, blood spilling from his mouth, but he said nothing.
Frustration snapped something in Alessandro.
“Why do you all keep turning me into a monster?” he growled. “I don’t want to hurt you. Just tell me what I want to know.”
Then he punched the man hard across the face.
Elena let out a muffled gasp.
She had seen enough.
She began to retreat—but the moment she stood upright, she froze.
Three pairs of eyes locked onto hers.
Don De Luca.
And his sons, Rafael and Lorenzo.
Her heart dropped to her stomach.
Rafael grabbed her hair and dragged her fully into the room. Pain exploded across her scalp as she cried out.
Alessandro turned and froze.
What is she doing here?
Before he could speak, his father’s voice cut through the room.
“This b***h was watching you,” Don De Luca said coldly. “Why are you always careless, Alessandro? How could you not know she was here?”
“I didn’t know,” Alessandro replied stiffly.
Fear swallowed Elena whole. She looked at Alessandro, pleading silently, but his face was unreadable.
Don De Luca turned to the beaten man. “I’ll ask you just once, “he said calmly.” Who paid you?”
Silence.
Without hesitation, Don De Luca pulled out his gun and shot the man straight in the forehead.
Elena screamed.
Rafael clamped his hand over her mouth. Her body shook violently as tears streamed down her face. She begged through sobs, but no sound escaped.
Don D Luca turned to Alessandro. “Take care of her,” he ordered, “before she goes blabbing.”
Then he walked away as if he had not just killed someone and instructed someone else to be killed.
The room fell into heavy silence.
All eyes turned to Alessandro.
Waiting.
Waiting for him to pull the trigger.
Elena looked at him, terror burning in her eyes.
Rafael scoffed. “Don’t disappoint father. Kill the bitch.”
“Leave,” Alessandro snapped.
Rafael smirked but stepped back. Lorenzo studied Alessandro carefully, something unreadable passing through his eyes, before turning and walking out.
Alessandro approached Elena. “What were you doing here?” he demanded.
For a split second, she saw something in his eyes—concern.
Then it vanished.
He grabbed her and shoved her to the ground.
Elena hit the floor hard, her head slamming against the chair. Pain exploded behind her eyes as blood trickled down her forehead.
“Yes!” Rafael laughed. “That’s it. Make father proud for once.”
And then he left.
Alessandro stared at the blood, horror flashing across his face. “I didn’t mean-
He reached for her, but Elena slapped his hand away.
“If you’re going to kill me,” she cried, shaking, “then do it already!”
Alessandro raised the gun and pressed it to her forehead.
She shut her eyes as images of her mom flooded her.
Tears streamed freely as she thought of her dying mom.
Bang!
- Writer
