Tangled paths

chapter 5

ARIADNE'S POV

The world didn’t go quiet when I woke to it—it roared.

Engines hummed low beneath my body, smooth and rhythmic, like we were suspended between time and sky. The air smelled sterile, sharp with fuel and leather. Cold brushed the bare skin of my wrists.

I blinked.

My eyelids felt like bricks. My body was a foreign object, numb at the edges, and heavy in the centre. Panic stirred low in my chest before my mind caught up. No cars. No traffic. No diner noise.

Above me wasn’t the stained ceiling of the shelter or the flickering bulb behind the diner.

It was curved. White. Polished.

A ceiling on a jet.

White leather seats. Minimal lighting. Everything was too clean and too expensive.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

I snapped awake.

Plastic cuffs dug into my wrists. A seat belt strapped across my lap, fastened too tightly—restraining, deliberate. The kind of restraint that said: we’ve done this before.

I jerked upward. The belt across my chest yanked me back down, hard.

Two men sat across from me, dressed in black suits. Calm, not brutish. One looked mid-twenties, with a scar slicing his eyebrow. The other was older, scrolling through his phone. Their silence wasn’t boredom; it was calculation.

I tested the restraints, keeping my face blank. Scarred Eyebrow noticed. I remembered him—the quiet one from the alley.

“She’s awake,” he said in Italian, voice low. “Eyes like a wolf.”

I didn’t react. Just tilted my head and studied him right back.

"Who are you?" I rasped.

He gave me a slow once-over. "Doesn’t matter."

"Where are you taking me?" I hissed, twisting against the seatbelt. "I’m not going anywhere with you."

"Bit late for that, Bella."

"È inglese," the older man noted without looking up. "Did we get the wrong one?"

"I don’t think so," Scarred Eyebrow said. "We saw her at the alley at the exact time."

"Boss will kill you if you're wrong again," the third man muttered.

"I’m not anyone’s damn profile!" I shouted.

Scarred Eyebrow crouched beside me, studying me like a strange animal. "Name?"

I said nothing.

His brows lifted. "You don’t know it? Or you won’t give it?"

"I didn’t ask to be here," I spat. "Where am I?"

Silence.

I glanced out the window. Only blackness. No city lights. No stars. Maybe we were already descending. I didn’t care where. I just knew I had to get out.

"How long was I asleep?" I demanded.

"Six hours," Scarred Eyebrow replied.

Six f*****g hours.

"I’m not her," I hissed. "Whoever you think I am, I swear to God—"

"You must be," Marco—the man I’d broken in the alley—cut in, voice dropping colder. "I’m not ready to die for being wrong again."

The older man leaned in. "Relax, ragazza. You’ll get answers. Eventually."

I twisted against the cuffs, teeth clenched, willing something—anything—to give.

"Ha il fuoco dentro," one of them muttered.

"That’s what makes them fall harder," the other chuckled.

My pulse spiked.

The jet dipped. I used the shift in gravity to roll my weight, kicking my foot into Scarred Eyebrow’s thigh. He stumbled back. I slammed my shoulder into the armrest, wrenching it just enough to loosen one wrist.

"Merda!" someone barked as I ripped free.

I tore out of the seatbelt, bolting down the aisle. Hands clawed at me—I ducked, slid under an arm, sprinted toward the back.

The emergency exit gleamed, but the altitude crushed that hope.

Still, I wasn’t going down easy.

I grabbed a tray, yanked it loose, and flung it. It cracked against a temple.

“Basta!” someone roared.

I ran.

Down the stairs. Across the tarmac. The wind clawed at my face; cold burned my lungs.

I didn’t think—just moved.

A van loomed ahead, door open. A man stood guard, stunned. I barreled into him, knocking us both down. His elbow clipped my jaw, but I scrambled up faster.

Then arms caught me.

I twisted like a cornered animal, my boot connecting with a shin. Gravel crunched underfoot. I slammed my elbow into a gut, drawing a grunt.

"Merda, she’s fighting like hell!" someone barked.

Hands grabbed at me. I clawed free, nails raking skin, breath tearing through my chest.

One of them lunged. I ducked and slammed against the cold van frame.

They weren’t ready for me. Good. Let them bleed.

I sprinted toward the light—only for a figure to step into my path, rising from the chaos."

"That’s not how to treat a lady," he said, voice cool. "Your mamas must be so proud."

I charged.

Quick hands grabbed me, jabbing something into my neck.

A sting. Burning.

Sedative.

Shit.

My knees buckled. The world tilted and spun.

I hit the ground hard, vision flickering.

Their faces swam before me—irritated, rattled.

And then—

Nothing.