Prisoner To The Mafia King

Chapter Three

Lucia's POV

Italian was not one of the languages that I've always excelled in. Despite growing up surrounded by Italian spoken all around me, I had always had trouble learning it, the language proving itself more challenging than English.

My dad never supported my poor learning in Italian, and I can never seem to grasp why that always seemed so hard to me.

Even though I fail at a lot of things, I do find myself to have the ability to see this as a true failure – my incapability to grasp my own language as a grown-ass woman.

Damien walked away after giving the order. Although I did not understand what that might have entailed, his men's reactions immediately made it clear it was nothing good. After he turned away to leave, a part of his men followed, and the rest disappeared outside the premises.

A few seconds later, they all returned with heavy iron chains.

My breath caught in my throat. The man holding me grabbed one of the chains and wrapped it around my neck and clicked it, locking it securely.

Another chain around my right arm and my left, then the chains around my wrist, my legs, and then around my body. Heavy. Cold. Unpleasant. The chains weighed me down, making me feel very immobile.

Damien's orders, I assumed, I bet. The man tightened the chain around my neck until it was choking me, then forcefully tugged me forward, and I stumbled forward with him.

Each time the man's fingers tugged my neck, the metal would burn into my skin.

And I ask myself, when did I go from a mafia princess to a slave I had read about in history books?

I was one of those people who had no freedom. No rights. No humanity.

That was exactly what I had become. As I was brought out of the church, I glanced back to look at the sky above me.

The sound of helicopters spun, spraying a weird liquid over the church; a familiar smell.

Diesel.

The church — they were covering the church with diesel.

The man holding my chain like an owner holding his dog's leash let out a mocking laugh.

He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a lighter, and lit it. Causally tossed it on the ground, and with an ignition, the church was engulfed in flames, consuming everything in its path.

As the flame crawled up the walls of the church, it consumed the bodies and the cathedral, burning all. All I could do was stand there and watch as the flame swallowed the church.

Tears fell from my eyes as I watched everything I held dear be burned into ashes. I couldn't even give my father a befitting burial.

A burning sensation shot through my neck, making me gasp.

Some sort of liquid penetrated my skin; I touched the spot. The tip of a syringe grazed my fingertips.

The whole world instantly went blurry to my eyes; the chain felt heavier.

The voices around me started fading, and my knees began to tremble until I finally gave way to the pressure.

My last vision before everything blacked out and took me was the church going up in flames.

I slowly opened my eyes and tried to sit up. My body did not respond to the demands.

Confused, I tried again, pulling against whatever it was that was holding me down.

Nothing.

My eyes snapped open completely as I looked around my surroundings.

The room was empty, cold, and gray concrete walls surrounded me, completely devoid of any decorations apart from a few metal hooks bolted on the surfaces.

A single fluorescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered occasionally, sending unsteady shadows moving across the room.

The room smelled of metal, antiseptic, and an indescribable aged smell.

I didn't like it; the room was completely silent, eerily so. There were no windows.

There was nothing that suggested that this place could possibly contain any sign of life. There was only the long stainless steel table. The table I was lying on

The extremely cold metal under my bare skin sent a shiver through my whole body.

I looked down, and I gasped.

I was naked; iron handcuffs fastened my wrist tight above my head, and heavy iron bands covered my ankles as well.

A thick chain around my waist restricted any significant movement.

My heart pounded against my ribs.

No. No. No.

I pulled again, much harder this time. The chains gave an awful clang and loosened a few millimeters, but that was it.

I was losing air at an alarming rate.

Each breath seemed to be shorter than the last, and my chest felt like it was collapsing. Teas came and burned in my eyes, and I did not care I was crying.

I was terrified, not of the chains, not of the isolation. I was terrified of the unknown.

The thought that kept looping in my head was, what if this was going to last forever?

Was Damien going to come here?

Was he going to look at me with the same empty eyes?

A thousand horrible thoughts crashed into my mind at once.

Will I be…

I forced myself to push that thought far away.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to do my breathing exercise.

One, two.

One, two.

One, two.

I kept repeating those words in my head, and slowly I could finally breathe, probably, but that didn't stop the way my entire body kept trembling uncontrollably.

I was scared; I was so terrified.

I would let Damien do whatever he wanted to do with me, but not just that. I don't think I can take any of that again.

Even with me continuing to do my breathing exercise, it didn't stop my mind from racing, and I was plucked into another nightmare.

No, no, not this again, and I let out a scream.

No, I was hallucinating again. I tried to tell myself I wasn't, but I could feel myself stiffen, his hands touching my body.

I couldn't tell the difference between whether this was real or just my imagination.