We were Born to Die

Chapter 05

As I sat there, amidst the picturesque backdrop of Italy, I couldn’t shake the feeling of this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sure, the tour had been amazing. I mean, who wouldn’t be enchanted by the grandeur of the Colosseum, the serene beauty of the Vatican City, or the romantic allure of the Florence? I’d walked the cobbled streets of St. Mark’s square, breathed in the essence of Tuscany, and even leaned precariously to get the perfect angle for a selfie at the Leaning tower of Pisa. But despite all the wonders I’d seen and captured through the lens of my camera, there was something off—kilter about this whole experience.

My brothers had insisted I extend my stay, urging me to soak up to every last drop of Italian charm while I could. But their eagerness seemed a little to forced, a little too insistent. It was as if they were hiding something from me, something they couldn’t quite bring themselves to reveal. And that uncertainty gnawed at me, tainting my enjoyment of the breathtaking scenery and rich history surrounding me.

I glanced at my phone, its screen filled with the snapshots of my adventures, each one garnering likes and comments from friend and followers alike. My latest post, a humble yet aesthetically pleasing shot of my breakfast plate featuring a flaky croissant and a vibrant Aperol Spritz, had even crossed the covered 1 million mark. But even as the notifications poured in, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease.

With a sigh, I pushed my phone aside and focused on my plate, the detectable aroma of Italian cuisine teasing my senses. The absence of guards and any sense of danger should have put me at ease, but instead, it only added to the growing sense of foreboding that hung in the air. Dressed in simple cream floral cami dress and matching hat to shield me from the harsh rays of the sun. The bustling café was filled with chatters of patrons, but amidst the cheerful ambiance, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

And then I saw him.

It was the guy from that party a week ago, the one who grabbed my wrist without permission. My heart skipped a beat, not in a romantic way, but out of sheer panic. His gaze swept across until it landed on me, locking our eyes in a tense moment of the recognition.

I knew I had to leave.

Quickly gathering my belongings, I got up from my seat as calmly as I could manage, but inside, my nerves on the edge. He started to walk towards me, his movement calculated and composed. I stepped out onto the bustling street, the sound of the city enveloping me as I wove through the crowd, but he followed, like a shadow refusing to be shaken loose. With each turn I made, I glanced back, only to find more figures trailing behind him. It was like the whole gang was here, closing in on me with every step.

I needed to find a place to hide, but going back to my hotel was too risky. I couldn’t risk leading them to my room. Spotting an empty side street with a shadowy corner, I ducked into the secluded alcove, praying they wouldn’t spot me.

But fate had other plans.

My phone rang, a loud, intrusive sound that seemed echo through the narrow street. Cursing under my breath, I fumbled to silence it, but it was too late. They had found me. Panic surged through me as they turned towards my hiding spot, their expressions shifting casual to predatory in an instant. Without a second thought, I bolted, my heart pounding in my chest as I pushed through the crowd, my breath coming in ragged breaths. I ran, desperate to put as much distance as possible. But they were relentless, their footsteps growing louder behind me as they closed in.

With no other option left, I made a split—second decision and turned a narrow alley, hoping to lose them in the maze of streets. But as I reached the dead end, my heart sank. There was nowhere left to run. Turning around, I found myself face-to-face with the gang, their menacing figures looming over me like predators closing in on their prey. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I prepared to defend myself, my fist clenched at my sides as I braced for whatever came next.

As one of the guy charged toward me, adrenaline surged through my veins, sharpening my senses. With a swift movement, I aimed a forceful kick at his stomach, catching him off guard. He doubled over in pain, and I didn’t waste a moment. Turning around, I faced another assailant rushing to grab my hair. Instinct took over as I seized his arm, twisting it behind his back with a firm grip. The sound of his bone cracking sent a shiver down my spine, but a sly grin crept on my face, fueled by the rush if the moment.

Before I could revel in my small victory, a familiar figure from the party—a blonde—haired troublemaker—suddenly appeared, delivering a punch straight to my face. The impact sent blood trickling down my cheek, but I refused to falter. Brushing away the blood defiantly, I squared my shoulders as another adversary charged toward me. With the precision honed by the years of training, I aimed a powerful kick between his chin and neck, sending him stumbling back with a groan. Despite the ringing in my ears and the blur in my vision from the previous blow, I stood my ground, surprising even myself.

The next attacker wasted no time, landing a brutal punch to my stomach. I gritted my teeth against the pain, determined not to let it weaken me. As he swung at me again and again, I summoned every ounce of strength within me, countering with a swift punch to his vulnerable balls. He crumpled to the ground, clutching his injured pride, and I didn’t even hesitate to deliver a barrage of kicks to his face until he lay unconscious.

With three adversaries remaining, including the menacing blonde, I knew the battle was far from over. As two of them charged at me simultaneously, I managed to land a satisfying punch on one of their faces. But before I could celebrate, the other delivered a punishing kick that sent me reeling, my vision swimming. Yet, despite the pain coursing through my body, I refused to yield. Summoning my last reserves of strength, I retaliated with a decisive blow to his groin, causing him to crumple in agony. With a grim determination, I continued the assault, delivering a series of kicks until he lay motionless on the ground, defeated.

But the blonde—haired menace remained, a glint of malice in his eyes as he brandished a knife. My heart sank at the sight, but I refused to let the fear show on my face. With a blank expression, I prepared to face him, knowing that this would be the toughest challenge yet. As he charged towards me, I effortlessly dodged his attacks, each movement calculated and precise. With each failed attempt, his frustration grew evident. But I remained unfazed, blocking his strikes with ease.

When he lunged for the knife a final time, desperation clouded his judgement, I seized the opportunity. With a swift kick, I sent the weapon flying from his grasp. He stumbled backward, momentarily disoriented, giving me the opening I needed. With swift efficiency, I delivered a punishing the blow to his face, followed by a powerful kick, that sent him crashing to the ground. Seizing him by the hair, I delivered a final, decisive blow, his blood staining my hands as he slumped into unconsciousness.

As I glanced back one last time, a shiver ran down my spine. But before I could fully grasp the gravity of the situation, the screeching tires shattered the stillness, jolting me back to the reality. Instinctively, I ducked out of the sight, hiding in the shadows as the car came to a halt near the where I had confronted those guys, now laying on the ground either unconscious or groaning in pain. Adrenaline surged through my veins, urging me to move faster, away from the looming threat. With each hurried step towards the main road, my heart pounded louder, a constant drumbeat of fear and anticipation.

Finally reaching the safety of the hotel, a wave of relief washed over me, momentarily calming the chaos within me. But as I reached for my bag, panic gripped me like a vice. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks—I had left it behind, exposed and vulnerable to the enemies. Thanking the saints that I had an extra key of the room on myself. “Holy f**k,” I cursed aloud, my frustration boiling over me. How could I be so careless, so utterly foolish? Anger swirled within me, a tempest of self-recrimination and regret.

Forcing myself to focus, I hastily gathered my belongings, my mind racing with the thoughts of escape and survival. With determination fueling my every move, I made my way out of the hotel, scanning the street for a cab. Minutes stretched into eternity as I waited, the uncertainty gnawing at my resolve. And then, like a beacon in the darkness, a car appeared, offering a fleeting chance at salvation. But before I could react, a voice shattered the silence, sending a chill down my spine, “Mrs. Falconetti,” it whispered, a sinister undercurrent underscoring the familiar name. “We’ve been informed by Mr. Alessandro that you are to come with us.”

Confusion clouded my thoughts as I struggled to comprehend the situation. How could Alessandro possibly know about the attack? And more importantly, why did want me back?

But before I could voice my concerns, a strong hand seized my arm, dragging me towards the waiting car. Panic surged within me, my instinct screaming in protest. But before I could resist, a sharp blow to my temple sent waves of darkness crashing over me, consuming me whole.

As I slowly blinked my eyes open, the sound of voices surrounding me, pulling me from the depths of unconsciousness. Squinting against the bright sunlight, I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. My hands were bound, a tight, uncomfortable pressure reminding me of my mess. In front of me sat the familiar figure of the blonde guy, his expression unreadable after what I had done with him, he conversed with another man I didn’t recognize. Beside me, the one who had struck me and sent me into darkness sat, his presence chilling despite the warmth of the sun streaming through the windows. But there was something odd about this situation—the absence of any other soul on the road, the emptiness stretching out before us.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice betraying none of the fear bubbling within me.

“Back to D.C,” came the curt reply from the man beside me, his tone clipped as he returned to his conversation without missing a boat.

My mind raced as I tried to piece together the puzzle of this unexpected journey. How was it possible that they were taking me back to Washington, D.C.? And why?

“When you passed out and it is possible if you have a private jet,” the man explained, his words sending a shiver down my spine. This was no ordinary k********g; it was the work of a rival, judging by the luxury of a private jet. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized the gravity of the situation.

As the car continued its journey, I surreptitiously surveyed my surroundings, my finger brushing against something hard beneath my seat. With a mixture of relief and dread, I wrapped my hand around the familiar shape of the gun—the same one we kept in our cars for emergencies. Carefully, I concealed the weapon, keeping it out of the sight as I loaded it with trembling hands. Every nerve in my body screamed for the action, but I knew I had to wait for the perfect moment.

Finally, the car entered a secluded area, devoid of any witnesses. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I knew this was my chance. Gripping the gun tightly, I steeled myself for what was to come as the car came to a halt, the air heavy with the tension. As the car screeched to a halt, my heart pounded in my chest like a frantic drum. The adrenaline surged through my veins, making my hands tremble as I clutched the cold metal of the gun. With a swift motion, I swung the handle of the weapon, connecting solidly with the guy beside me. His surprise was evident as he stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden assault.

Before the blonde guy could even fully register what was happening, I aimed and fired, the sharp c***k of the gunshot ringing in my ears. The bullet found its mark, tearing through his leg. A scream tore from his lips, a symphony of agony that echoed in the confined space of the car. But there was no time to dwell on his pain. The driver, sensing the danger, reached for his own firearm, his movements quick and deadly. Instinct kicked in, and I reacted without hesitation. With a swift kick, I sent his head crashing into the unforgiving embrace of the steering wheel.

Blood splattered, painting the once pristine surface in a macabre display. I wasted no time, seizing the opportunity to incapacitate him further. Gripping his head in my hands, I slammed it against the wheel again and again, relentless in my assault until he slumped, unconscious and defeated. As I saw the guy beside me about to punch me, my heart raced and I didn’t have time to think, I just reacted. I quickly leaned back in the seat, feeling the adrenaline, and kicked him with all my might. I felt the impact as his head collided with the window, shattering the glass. The sound was deafening, but I didn’t stop to process it. When I looked again, I saw him, his face covered in blood, half inside and half outside of the car. It was a terrifying sight, but in that moment, all I could feel was relief that I had defended myself. My hands were shaking, breathing heavily, I surveyed the chaos around me, my senses on high alert.

Panic threatened to consume me as I realized my cellphone was missing. “Where is it?” I demanded, my voice laced with urgency as I trained the gun on the blonde guy, his smirk a taunting challenge.

“It is no use. He is here,” he sneered cryptically before I could press him further. Before I could decipher his ominous words, a deafening gunshot shattered the tense silence, the metallic tang of the blood filling the air as the blonde guy’s body jerked with the impact. Shock ripped through me, mingling with the fear and disbelief as crimson droplets splattered across my face, staining my skin with the evidence of demise. Heart hammering against my chest, threatening to burst free from its confines, I forced myself to regain control. With trembling hands, I pushed the door open, eyes darting wildly in search of any sign of our unseen assailant. But no one answered, only a haunting silence that sent shivers down my spine.

A sharp, searing pain sliced through my leg, stealing my breath as I stumbled forward, the echo of another gunshot ringing in my ears. Agony blossomed like a crimson flower, engulfing my senses as I collapsed to the ground, darkness closing in around me like a suffocating embrace. As my vision begins to blur, the world around me morphs into a haze of shapes and colors. I can hear the faint echo of footsteps drawing near, each one sending a shiver down my spine. My heart races in my chest, pounding against my ribs like a caged bird desperate for freedom. I know I should run, but the pain shooting through my leg holds me in the place.

Then, like a shadow emerging from the mist, a pair of black shoes materialize before me, cutting through the fog of my vision. He crouches down, bringing himself to my level with a casual grace that belies the danger he poses. I want to scream, to fight back, but my body feels heavy and unresponsive, as if weighed down by the gravity of his presence alone. I watch in helpless horror as he reaches for the gun lying at my side, my fingers twitching with the instinct to grab it before he can. But the pain in my leg is overwhelming, a searing fire that threatens to consume me whole. I grit my teeth, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes.

With a swift motion, he discarded the weapon, tossing it aside as if it were nothing more than a child’s toy. Then his hand is on my face, his touch gentle yet possessive as he tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes are the color of the hazelnuts, warm and mesmerizing yet filled with a darkness I can’t quite comprehend. They hold me captive, trapping me in their depths like a fly caught in a spider’s web. And when he speaks, his voice is low and smooth, sending shivers down my spine.

“Enough with the running, Cara Mia.”