Caught Between The Mafia

Chapter 3: TAKEN BY A MAFIA KING

My body moved before my brain did.

I dropped to my knees, arms flying over my head, ears ringing as the world exploded into chaos around me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to block out the screams erupting everywhere. People were running, crying, scrambling for their lives.

I tried to crawl toward anything that looked like safety, but the bullets whizzing past pinned me to the ground.

“Oh God… please, I don’t want to die,” I murmured in prayer, breath trembling, my words muffled against my own arms.

Then, out of nowhere, I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around me. I gasped and looked up to see Dean hovering over, his body covering mine completely.

“Come on. Stay low!” He yelled over the noise.

Keeping me pressed close, he guided me back toward the car, both of us moving in a half-crawl. Up ahead, his two surviving men were firing nonstop, holding their ground and protecting the vehicle with everything they had.

“You’re safe. Go.” Dean yanked the car door open and pushed me inside. He climbed in right after me and slammed the door. Almost instantly, his men dove into the front seats and floored the accelerator, the car jolting forward as they sped us out of the gunfire.

As the noise behind us faded, the only sound left was the engine humming hard underneath. Only then did the fear hit me in full force. My whole body shook uncontrollably, arms wrapped tight around myself as if that could hold me together. Sweat slid down my temples, my chest rising and falling too fast.

Dean exhaled, a deep, tired sound, and leaned back slightly. When he looked at me, something in his eyes eased.

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching out to touch my arm, “are you okay?”

I didn’t get the chance to answer.

A sudden, sharp impact slammed against the side of the car so hard the whole frame jumped. Another followed, louder, closer.

The driver jerked forward. “Sir, they’re behind us again!”

“Then move! Step on it!” Dean roared, voice slicing through the air.

The car shot forward again, even faster this time, and I was thrown sideways, barely catching myself against the seat.

Dean’s face hardened as he reached into a hidden compartment beside his seat and drew a gun. He slid the magazine down, counted the bullets with a quick glance, then locked it back in with a decisive click.

At the sight of the gun, my horror intensified.

“What’s happening?!” I screamed, ducking down instinctively. My stomach flipped so violently it felt like it was trying to crawl out of my body.

‘So this is it… this is how I die. In the middle of a car shootout, beside the man who tried to use me for money.’ The thought looped through my mind as I curled down lower, bracing myself for the bullet that would end everything.

Dean’s hand caught my arm, pulling me back up. “Don’t. The windows are bulletproof.”

The calm in his voice scraped at my nerves. What kind of psychopath stays this calm in the middle of a shootout?

As if the people chasing us heard him, the next shots hit lower, smashing against the body of the car instead.

“They’re aiming for the tires!” the driver yelled, panic edging into his voice.

“Get us out of here. Now!” Dean ordered.

The driver swerved the car hard to the right, plunging straight into thick bushes. Branches scraped violently against the sides as the terrain turned rough, the vehicle bouncing hard over uneven ground.

I shut my eyes tight, gripping my seatbelt with one hand as the car jolted up and down. The impact rattled through my bones. My breath came out in short, broken gasps.

Dean’s hand found mine, gripping tight to steady me as we were thrown around. I didn’t fight it. I couldn’t.

Then, just as suddenly, the trees vanished. The car burst out onto another road with a hard jolt, tires screeching as the driver slammed on the brakes. The vehicle skidded before finally coming to a stop.

A thick, heavy silence followed, filling the space, broken only by the sound of our breathing, still hard and uneven.

“A-are they… gone?” I asked shakily, the aftermath crashing down.

“I think we lost them,” the driver replied, still catching his breath.

I turned on Dean, anger flooding in as the fear receded. I yanked my hand free from his. “What did you do?” I demanded. “Who were those people?”

He looked at me, flat and emotionless. “I don’t know,” he said, letting the words hang. “Word must have spread about your father’s death .”

I stared at him, disbelief settling heavy in my chest.

“So you’re saying they came after me?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I’ve never been chased like that before,” he said instead. “Funny how it happens now. Right after your father dies. Right when you’re with me.”

I shook my head slowly, my mind racing in too many directions at once. “No. That doesn’t— that can’t be—”

“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said your father had enemies,” he cut in. “And you’re not safe on your own.” His deep hazel eyes held mine, like he could sense the fear in me. “Imagine if that had happened while you were at work. People running. Your coworkers. Customers.”

He leaned closer, bridging the small space between us, his voice softened, almost intimate. “I can protect you. I have everything it takes to keep you safe.”

As he spoke, his hand moved to a sleek briefcase I hadn’t realized was there. With smooth motion, he unzipped it and withdrew a thick stack of papers, a ballpoint pen balanced neatly on top.

“But I can’t do that,” he continued, placing them down on the narrow table between us, “unless you agree to my terms.”

I looked down and a contract stared back at me.

‘WEDDING AGREEMENT’ printed boldly at the top.

My heart sank as I pressed a hand to my forehead, dread washing over me. I felt completely cornered.

If Dean was right, and that shootout had really been because of me, then I wasn’t the only one in danger. My coworkers. Innocent lives. Lives I couldn’t protect.

But he had made one thing clear: he a could protect me.

I lifted my head slowly. “Why should I trust you?” My voice was tight. “How do I know you’re not the one who killed my dad? He owed you money too.”

He shrugged like it barely mattered, “Well it’s either them or me,” he replied. “At least I haven’t tried to kill you.”

His words shattered whatever argument I had left.

I closed my eyes and drew in a slow breath, already hating myself for what I was about to do.

“Fine,” I said quietly. The word tasted bitter as it left my mouth.

I picked up the pen, my grip tightening as I signed. I pressed so hard it felt like the ink might burst through.

Once I was done, I slammed the pen onto the table, hard enough to make a point.

I buried my face in my hands, my thoughts spiraling, my chest tight.

*I hope I know what I’m doing.*

“Hey.”

Dean prompted softly, drawing my gaze back to him.

“You’ve made the right choice,” he said soberly, although the faint grin tugging at his lips gave him away. I wanted to slap it right off.

“One year,” I pointed firmly, clinging to the words. “That’s all. One year.”

“One year,” he echoed, tucking the contract neatly into his briefcase. “Then you can go back to your quaint little life.”

I rolled my eyes and looked away, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted.

“Are you going to drive me home, then? To get my things?” I asked, my tone sharp, carrying every ounce of audacity I could muster.

“That won’t be necessary,” he replied. “They’re probably still looking for you.”

I said nothing, folding my arms and staring straight ahead as I adjusted in my seat.

Dean leaned back, a triumphant glint in his eyes.

“Take us home,” he instructed.

The car started moving again, slow and steady this time.

And just like that, I was taken by a mafia king.