Chapter 003:Three
1308 Words
Evangeline.
I glanced at Mason, my face crumpling in frustration. Dozens of thoughts are flooding my mind. I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want him dead either.
The air hummed in tension.
Painful and brutal.
“I love you.” My voice broke. I always said these words with all the confidence in the world, but today, today, these same words curled painfully in my tongue. I trembled, feeling like a kid in the dark.
“Never forget that, okay?” I sniffled, swiping my free hand across my flushed nose. My voice was thin and reedy.
I turned my attention back to the stranger holding my hand. There was no warmth on his face, only a cold, terrifying resolve. I tried to recall whether I had ever met him or angered him, but nothing came to mind.
He was tall. Too tall that I had to crane my neck to meet his face. His eyes were frozen blue. A frozen lake with something dark beneath. They had no light, just darkness. His jaws were sharp, a mask of cold, hard indifference.
His smell was that of scorch, sandalwood, and leather.
“P-promise me you won’t hurt him.” I stammered.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He smirked. His voice was as rough as gravel grinding against bone.
Mason raised his hand. His lips parted, then pressed onto a thin line. His words were stuck midway. The dark, gigantic man hit the back of his head, and he fell unconscious. He landed in the muddy puddle.
Light drops hit his face. His brown curls clung to his face. “Eva,” He mumbled before his world turned pitch black.
My heart clenched.
Every passerby increased in pace after their eyes locked with Nero. Some seemed to know him, while others were just terrified of his cold stare.
His fist tightened around my wrist. Merciless. Brutal. His skin was rough, calloused from violence. My face twisted in discomfort. My breathing became labored as terror set in.
Where was he taking me? Why did it have to be me?
Tears streamed down my cheeks. I had just concentrated to be drugged down a lion’s den.
He opened the door for me and placed his hand to protect my head as I entered. I could see his companion’s eyes throwing invisible daggers at me.
He took out his handkerchief. Black, with the initials N.G in red. He swirled it and covered my eyes.
I curled up at one side of the moving vehicle. My hands rested tightly on her chest. The darkness swallowed my eyes whole; I could only rely on my ears.
“Please…please let me go.”
My voice cracked at the last word. The blindfold pressed cruelly against my eyes. The fabric is damp from all the tears that run uncontrollably down my face.
My wrists burned, where the restraint cut my skin. Every turn is a painful reminder through my body.
I couldn't see anyone.
The car felt like a graveyard; Too silent to be peaceful, too cold to be alive.
From a distance, I could hear a faint breathing of my kidnapper.
He had a powerful scent. Sandalwood. Leather. And something more dangerous.
“I…I promise not to tell anyone,” I insisted, “I’ll pretend I haven't even seen your face.” I trembled, “I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”
He chuckled—a slow, devilish chuckle wrapped in sarcasm and power.
I stiffened.
“You're in no position to make demands–”
“It's a reque–”
“SHUT THE f**k UP!!!” He snapped, the sound loud and feral.
His vulgar words hung in the air. Toxic and cruel.
I flinched.
My muscles tightened. My heart threatened to destroy me from the inside out.
“How dare you interrupt Nero Giovanni?” He barked.
Giovanni. That name. The terrifying Mafia god of Acapulco.
I’ve always been clumsy, silly, and religious. Aunt says too religious for my own good, but I've never crossed paths with Mr. Giovanni. I mean, it wouldn't slip my attention.
“Ha…” I laughed nervously, “Wrong girl, sir.”
My scalp burned as his hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back.
“I told you not to interrupt me.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry…”
I could feel the violent hit of rain droplets on the car window, filling the silence I was too terrified to break.
I bit my lower lip into submission. I tried to regulate my breathing. Though cold and freezing, my palms were sweaty. I wondered what awaited me. I wondered whether this was human trafficking and whether little Sofia was part of the plan.
Then again. Sir Esteban seemed terrified of this man.
The click of the lock echoed like a gunshot.
The car halted.
My breath paused.
My ears searched.
For something.
Anything
Anything that would make me aware of what was going on. The door to my side opened. Suddenly. My weight was pulled outside the car. I almost fell.
I did.
But not on a hard rocky ground I had braced myself to land on. It was on strong, masculine arms that gently held my thin frame as if I weighed nothing.
His calloused hands lightly brushed my skin as he removed the blind fold. I squinted at the sudden brightness.
He leaned over, his frame towering over me. “I hope you like your new home.” He muttered with insolent ease.
My gaze sliced through the eerie atmosphere to the mansion before me. I could tell we were on the outskirts of Acapulco. The gates were black and old money vibe. The pathway towards the entrance was so long that I almost lost my sanity.
His hand was wrapped around my waist. His friend was a step behind us. The door cracked as it opened. My gaze dropped to the floor as all the maids’ judgmental stares left imprints on me.
The walk felt less like a stroll around a home and more like a procession towards the execution block. ‘I hope you like your new home.’ The words replayed in my mind like a dark mantra shielding me from the oppressive weight of the house.
“She is the lady of the house; even the slightest disrespect towards her will cost anyone their lives.” He said, his voice hardening.
He held my hand, and I could only gasp as he led me up the spiral staircase.
He led me to a room at the corner of the vast upper hall. The room was tidy but painted black, with black silk sheets. The windows were wide but covered in dark colored curtains.
The silence in the room was heavy, pressing against my chest like physical weight. The fear that had paralyzed me earlier evaporated, replaced by a cold instinct of survival.
I wouldn’t stay here.
I couldn’t.
My screams pierced through the silent room. “You're sick!” I sobbed. “You're definitely sick!” My chest heaved up and down. My hands trembled at the hem of my wrinkled, drenched yellow sundress.
“You think I'm what? Some vegetable? No…no no!” My voice cracked.
My almond green eyes glanced at him. Scared and uncertain. Tears burned at my sides.
He looked at me. No. He looked through me. A stripping gaze that seemed to see through the wet sundress right into my soul.
“I don't need to explain myself, little fruit.” His steps hit the marble floor in a certain rhythm.
“Nero Giovanni explains himself to no one. You're mine now.” His eyes darted lazily over my body. A cruel smirk on his face. “Mine. Mine. Mine. Both body and soul.”
- Writer
