Forced To A Mafia

The Phantom Hunter

Emily's blood turned cold as she stared at the glowing image on her phone. It was unmistakably her-her expression, her gait, as she walked away from Alessandro's skyscraper. The realisation then hit her like a runaway freight train-somebody had followed her, somebody had watched her, and that somebody made sure she knew.

Her heart pounding in her chest, she looked around the street. Dark, the usual hustle of New York's night drowned in the glow of streetlights, the murmur of faraway traffic. Still, all of a sudden, every shadow was darker, every figure more menacing.

Her phone buzzed once more. Another message.

"Don't run, Emily. I see you.

She swallowed hard, her pulse racing as she fought the overwhelming urge to sprint down the street. Whoever this was, they were close-too close. Panic clawed at her throat, but she forced herself to breathe, to stay calm. Running would make her a target, and if what Alessandro said was true, running wouldn't buy her much time.

She took a step forward, her entire body shaking, her eyes careening wildly around her in the most unobtrusive manner possible. No one stood out. There were a few passing people, a couple standing near a parked car, but none of them seemed to be staring at her. At least, not overtly.

Her head raged: should she go back to Alessandro's building? But what would that solve? He was the reason she was in this mess. She could hardly trust him, but then again, could she afford to face this alone?

Her legs quickened their pace as she walked, suddenly taking her in a different direction--towards her apartment. Every instinct was screaming to just get home, lock the doors, and hide. But maybe this was a scare tactic, a bluff to get under her skin. Yet if it wasn't.

Her phone vibrated for the second time. This time, it was a call.

Unknown Caller.

Emily stared at the screen, dread oozing its way up her spine. Her thumb stayed poised over the reject option, but something took it back. What if it really was Alessandro? What if this was his means of warning her?

Her hands were shaking as she picked up the call, bringing the phone to her ear slowly. "Who is this?" she whispered, her voice not heard.

There was a silence on the other end of the line that stretched out too long, like the calm before the storm. Then, a voice. Low, gravelly, and far too close for comfort.

"I warned you, Emily. You don't get to walk away from this."

Emily's blood ran cold. The voice was unfamiliar, but the malice in it was unmistakable. Whoever this was, they meant business.

What do you want?" she demanded, her voice harder this time, driven by fear and anger.

A deep, rumbling laugh ran through the lines. "What I desire is not the issue. That is Alessandro's desire. You're only a piece in the game, sweetheart—a very, very important piece. Emily felt her stomach turn.

A piece for a board game? She seemed to be playing a game where the rules were unclear, but one thing was becoming quite evident: she was in over her head. Her hooks were definitely getting deeper. "I don't know who you are, but I don't care what kind of game you're playing," she said. Leave me alone.

"You think you're still in control?" it asked, each word heavy with amusement. "You think you can go back to your little gallery, living as if none of this were happening? No, Emily. You are trapped. And Alessandro? He can't protect you from everything."

Her heart was racing. She needed to end this. She couldn't continue playing into their intimidation anymore.

"I'm calling the police," she said, trying not to let her voice quiver. The subsequent laughter heard sent chills down her spine. "Go ahead. But the police can't stop us. No one can. And if you think Alessandro is your saviour, think again. He's as dangerous as the rest of us. Maybe even more."

The line went dead.

She froze, her fingers wrapping tighter around the phone, the knuckles white. She was shaking, her mind racing with what she had just heard. They were playing with her, playing with her fear, and wanted her to feel powerless.

But she wasn't, couldn't be.

She wheeled on her heels, walking faster now and practically running the rest of the way to her apartment. Finally reaching her building, her heart pounding and chest aching from tension, she fumbled with the keys, the metal clanking loudly in the quiet night as she rushed inside and locked the door behind her.

The smallness of her apartment felt almost choking as she paced the room, her mind racing. What now? Who could she turn to? The police? Alessandro? Her instincts told her neither option was safe. She was caught between two dangers, one hidden in the shadows, the other standing boldly in the light.

She could trust no one. Not Alessandro. Not the stranger on the phone. Maybe not even herself. Her mind was chaotic, her choices few.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door that jerked her; her heart raced into her throat. Emily froze. Her body tense, her breathing shallow. Who could it be at this hour?

She went to the door in a ton of measured steps, her heart racing with each one. She peered through the peephole and gasped.

It was Alessandro.

An instantaneous impulse was to wrench the door open, to demand answers, but a small splinter of doubt stayed in her hand. Why was he here? Why now? Could she really trust him, or was this all part of the same deadly game?

The other knock, more insistent this time. "Emily, open the door. We need to talk."

His voice was even, smooth. But that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. Her mind flashed back to the phone call, the chilling words echoing in her head. You're just a piece on the board.

Was Alessandro moving his pieces now? Was she about to be sacrificed?

"Emily," Alessandro called again, his tone softer now, more insistent. "It is not safe for you to be here alone. Let me in."

Her hand hovered over the lock, her heart pounding in her ears. She could only imagine what lay beyond that door: whether it was safety, betrayal, or worse. Everything inside her screamed to leave the door locked, but another voice, deep inside, whispered that Alessandro could be the only one who would be able to keep her alive from this.

She took a deep breath and worked the lock, her movements slow and cautious.

As the door groaned open, Alessandro stood there, his features indistinguishable in the poor light of the hall. His gaze raked over her-the fear she couldn't hide, the tension in her posturing. Yet, he did not move, did not force his way inside. He was waiting, it seemed-as if granting her one last opportunity to choose.

Emily," he said now, his voice softer, almost gentle. "You're not safe here. They're coming for you."

Her breath hitched. They're coming? She had only seconds to take in his words before her phone buzzed in her hand again, the vibration rattling. She turned cold at the glance of the screen.

It was another picture this time of her apartment door.

And the message was clear:

"Run."

Alessandro's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. His eyes locked onto hers with an urgency he had never shown before. "Emily, we need to go. Now."