The Mafia's Target

The first thing I noticed was the silence. Not the comforting kind that soothes, but the oppressive kind that burrows into your skin and suffocates. The walls around me were pristine white, as if mocking my current state. The bed was oversized, covered in plush silk sheets, and a tray of untouched gourmet food sat on the glass table. Lavish, yes, but it felt more like a cage than a sanctuary.

Dominic's men had dragged me here hours ago, tossing me into this gilded prison without so much as a word. I had fought, of course. Kicked, screamed, and even managed to land a sharp heel into one of their shins. But it didn't matter. I was outnumbered, overpowered.

A camera—small, sleek, and strategically placed—sat in the corner, its lens unblinking. They were watching. Dominic was watching.

I paced the room, ignoring the ache in my wrists from where the ropes had bitten into my skin earlier. The window overlooked a sprawling estate, but the wrought-iron bars drilled into the frame ensured there would be no escape that way.

For a moment, my resolve wavered. My legs felt heavy, the weight of my predicament pressing down like a stone. But then I remembered Dominic's voice, low and venomous: "Then you'll wish you had been."

No. I wasn't going to cower. If he thought he could break me, he was wrong. Very wrong.

The lock clicked, breaking the silence, and the door creaked open. I froze, my fists clenching instinctively. Dominic stepped in, his presence filling the room. He didn't speak right away, just studied me, his piercing gaze sliding over me like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Enjoying your accommodations?" he asked finally, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"Are you expecting gratitude?" I shot back, crossing my arms. "This is still a cage, no matter how pretty it looks."

He smirked, taking a deliberate step closer. "A cage is exactly where someone like you belongs."

"Someone like me?" I challenged, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. "You mean someone you've wrongfully accused? Or someone who refuses to be bullied by you?"

His jaw tightened, but he didn't lash out. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, tossing it onto the table.

"Do you recognize this?"

I hesitated before picking it up. My stomach sank as I unfolded it. It was a blurry photocopy of documents—ledgers, names, accounts. Things I'd never seen before in my life.

"No," I said firmly, tossing it back at him. "I've never seen this before."

Dominic's eyes narrowed. "You're a good liar, I'll give you that. But you're not fooling me."

"And you're a stubborn fool," I countered. "If you're so smart, Dominic, why can't you see that someone else is playing you?"

His smirk faltered, just for a fraction of a second, and I seized on it.

"You don't scare me," I pressed, stepping closer to him now. "You think you can intimidate me into confessing to something I didn't do? You'll have to try harder than this."

Dominic leaned down, his face mere inches from mine. "Oh, Scarlett," he murmured, his voice dripping with menace. "You should be scared. Because I'm just getting started."

After he left, I paced the room, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I had to get out of here, and fast.

The camera's red light blinked, reminding me that every move I made was under scrutiny. I needed a plan—something bold, something that would catch them off guard. My eyes darted to the tray of food. A metal fork glinted under the dim light.

Perfect.

Hours later, as the estate settled into quiet, I made my move. Using the fork, I managed to unscrew the cover of the vent in the bathroom. It was a tight fit, but I was desperate. I crawled through the narrow space, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. My heart pounded with every inch I moved, every creak of the metal threatening to give me away.

Finally, I emerged into another room—a storage closet, by the looks of it. My eyes scanned the shelves, landing on an old cell phone. Dusty, but intact. My fingers trembled as I powered it on. A faint buzz signaled life. No passcode. A miracle.

But just as I was about to dial, the door burst open.

Dominic stood there, flanked by two of his men. His expression was dark, his eyes burning with fury.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" he growled, stepping closer.

The phone was ripped from my hands, and I was yanked to my feet. Dominic's grip on my arm was bruising, his voice low and venomous as he whispered in my ear.

"You think you're clever, Scarlett? You're not. And now, you've just made things worse for yourself."