MAFIA'S THORN

CHAPTER ONE

FLARIE’S — POV

I step out of the café, and the night air chills me just as the door clicks shut behind me. The smell of coffee still clings to my clothes. Using my finger, I comb back the strands of hair sticking to my face.

Usually, at this hour, the main road is packed with slow-moving traffic, several headlights blending into a long, impatient line.

A horn blares irritated, somewhere.

I stop mid-walk at a corner, already exhausted. There is no way I want to deal with that chaos.

'What can I do?' I weigh my options thinking.

After a moment, I decide to take another route. It isn't my usual one, but I’ve taken it before. Although it's quieter, it avoids the traffic and reduces ten minutes off the walk with an added bonus of no crowds.

The farther I go, the thinner the city noise becomes, until it’s just a distant hum behind me.

This road doesn’t belong to people who walk, It belongs to trucks and night deliveries. The smell of oil drifts past me as I walk through warehouses that rise on either side, their windows black with doors sealed tight. No security lights or movement in sight.

Is it fatigue or are the echo of sounds too loud this night? But then again, exhaustion makes everything feel sharper. More ominous. Still my grip tightens around my purse.

The road slopes gently upward, I recall. There will be houses, neighborhoods and people once I pass this stretch.

A streetlight ahead flickers erratically. I walk beneath it. It goes out and darkness drops over me.

I become so scared but keep going anyway, until I hear footsteps behind me. What a coincidence. It's probably someone else heading the same way. I’m not going to overthink it and panic over nothing.

The steps continue. I keep walking, forcing my pace to stay even. I won't let fear get the best of me.

The steps don't fade or get closer. They stay exactly where they are, matching mine. This isn't right. If it's someone walking on their own, they should urgently have to move past me and not stay relaxed.

I don’t turn around, Looking makes it real and if it’s real, then I have to decide what comes next. Maybe it’s just rhythm. Two people walking naturally fall into step. I adjust my pace just slightly to test if it's a coincidence, the footsteps adjust too exactly. Now they copy me. My throat dries up, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of my forehead.

Then more movement, another set joins the first. That’s when unease intensifies into dread. Despite my attempt to calm myself, my breath starts to quicken. This is not my imagination, my instincts were right.

I break into a run, my shoes resounding due to how quiet everywhere is.

I nearly lose my balance from a pebble that shifts beneath my soles. My arms fling out as if there's a wall or tree for me to hold onto, but I manage and regain stability, not falling face flat on the concrete.

“Stop there!” a man shouts.

Panic detonates immediately. Adrenaline floods my body so fast my heartbeat pounds violently it resounds in my ears,

I don’t hesitate, slow down or think. I push harder, cold air tears into my lungs for every breath I take.

“Faster.” Another voice says, closer, "She’s getting away."

My legs burns. Every stride feels unstable, my muscles about to cramp. My socks go cold from a puddle that splashes up my calf.

Don’t fall, I can't let them catch me. My vision begins to narrow, the edges blurring. I taste metal at the back of my throat from dehydration. The footsteps are relentless, not taking a break.

Something catches the back of my jacket. My body jerks backward, so violently my teeth click together. I feel fingers fist into the cloth, snapping the fabric tight against my throat cutting off-air mid-breath.

Hot breath brushes the back of my neck. I’m suspended between moving forward and being dragged down, briefly.

The stitching on my clothe protests, causing the fabric to rip as I lunge forward with everything left in me. The jacket comes off, and I stumble free, nearly collapsing from the sudden release.

My ankle wobbles, but I force myself upright. I don’t look back. Breathing turns into fire that burns with each intake.

Shapes begin to form in the darkness upfront. There are few cars parked irregularly along the road. One pair of headlights is on, illuminating the asphalt in harsh white light and its engine idle. This means that there are people around. Witnesses that can possibly come to help me.

I let out a breath out of relief.

I angle toward them, but as I get closer, something feels wrong. No doors open, the engines keep running like they’re waiting.

Their voices drift further back, meaning I’ve gained distance. “She won’t last,” one of them calls, certain.

My body is failing now. The adrenaline that carried me this far is wearing off, leaving tremors in its wake, my hands shake violently.

I'm almost there. Just have to run faster. Suddenly, I lose balance and trip on my own misstep. Pitching forward, I slam into something solid. It's definitely the ground. But, grounds aren't soft like this one. This is warm. A body.

Where did it come from?

Strong hands clamp around my arms before I can fall.

The collision knocks the air from my lungs. Pain explodes through my shoulder and chest. White sparks erupt across my vision.

He doesn’t stagger, doesn't curse or react like someone surprised. I hadn’t seen him standing there, just a dark shape framed by headlights.

I try to push him away, but he's stronger.

The last of the adrenaline drains from my body all at once. Everything spins. My limbs feel distant, disconnected.

The running footsteps stop all at once. Stillness settles everywhere, no heavy breathing or noise.

A faint chuckle drifts across the road followed by shoe scrapes against the road, not advancing rather retreating.

The headlights blind me, turning his face into shadow. I can’t make out his features, which makes it impossible to read his expression. 'These people will help me, I made it.'

Breathing fan my ear. "Got you," a deep hoarse voice says.

His grip tightens around my waist, I feel something cold press against my ribs. It then occurs to me that it's a weapon, not an accessory he is wearing. I'm terrified more now than during the chase. My pulse roars in my skull.

This was a stupid mistake. I should have kept going, i'm not safe here.

Out of nowhere, a loud bang splits the night. I jerk as light fractures into dark spots that cloud my vision and the world becomes a haze.

My ears ring and I feel an excruciating pain throughout my body. I stop feeling my legs or even the stranger's hands holding me. Unable to bear it, I give into the unconsciousness pulling at me and pass out.