Page 48 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

His words are meant to comfort, but they only make me hold him tighter, as if by sheer force of will I can keep him here, keep him safe. “Just be careful,” I whisper. “Please.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. The intensity in his gaze is almost too much to bear, like he’s trying to memorize every detail, like he’s afraid this might be the last time he sees me. “I will,” he promises, his voice firm, unyielding. “I’m not going to let Albrecht win. Not now, not ever.”

I nod, but the fear doesn’t go away. How could it? This is the man who has become everything to me, and I’m about to watch him walk into the lion’s den. The thought makes my stomach churn, but I push it down, trying to be strong, trying to be the woman he needs me to be right now.

Lucas leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s both tender and possessive, as if he’s staking his claim, reminding me that I’m his.

And in that moment, I don’t care about the danger, the risks, the fear that’s been gnawing at me all night. All I care about is this—him, us, the life we’re trying to build together.

When he pulls back, there’s a softness in his eyes that I haven’t seen before, a vulnerability that makes my heart ache. “I love you, Emily,” he says, the words coming out like a vow, like a promise he intends to keep no matter what. “And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you and our child are safe.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion. “I love you too, Lucas,” I whisper, my voice breaking on the last word. “Just come back to me.”

He nods, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, and then he’s pulling me back into his arms, holding me so tightly it feels like he’s trying to fuse us together. And maybe he is. Maybe we both are, knowing that the world outside these walls is waiting to tear us apart.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally lets me go, stepping back, his eyes lingering on mine for just a moment longer before he turns and heads toward the door.

I watch them go, my heart pounding in my chest, every instinct screaming at me to stop him, to hold on to my husband, to do anything but let him walk out that door.

But I don’t. I stand there, rooted to the spot, watching as the man I love disappears into the darkness, leaving me alone with my fears and the gnawing uncertainty of what tomorrow will bring.

34

LUCAS

The moonlight filters through the cracked windows of the abandoned museum, casting long, eerie shadows across the marble floors. The place used to be one of New York’s hidden gems, a relic from another era.

I remember walking around it as a kid, marvelling at all the sights. Now, it’s just a forgotten shell, a perfect place for a meeting like this—if you trust the man you’re meeting. And I don’t trust anyone.

The air is thick with the scent of dust and decay, the silence almost oppressive as I make my way through the grand hall. My footsteps echo in the vast space, the sound bouncing off the rusting exhibits and faded signs that line the walls. I can feel the tension in the air, a prickling at the back of my neck that tells me something isn’t right.

Albrecht’s consigliere is supposed to meet me here, a neutral ground where we could talk without any unwanted eyes. But as I step deeper into the shadows, the sense of foreboding only grows stronger. My instincts are screaming at me, every fiber of my being on high alert.

Then I see it—movement in the shadows, just a flicker, but enough to confirm what I already knew. This isn’t a negotiation. It’s an ambush.

I don’t let my stride falter, don’t give any sign that I’ve seen them. Four men, moving silently through the darkness, spreading out to surround me. They think they have the advantage, think they’ve caught me off guard. They’re wrong.

I continue forward, letting them close in, every sense honed and ready. The first man makes his move, stepping out from behind a pillar, a blade glinting in the pale light. He’s fast, but I’m faster.

I grab an iron rod that’s been discarded on the ground, twisting just in time to catch him across the jaw with it. The blow is swift, precise, and he crumples to the floor without a sound.

No time to waste. The second man is already lunging at me from the side, a gun in his hand. I spin, the rod slipping from my fingers as I grab a piece of shattered marble from a fallen statue.

The weight of it feels right in my hand, and I hurl it at his head. The marble connects with a sickening thud, and he drops like a stone, the gun clattering uselessly to the ground.

Two down, two to go.

I move quickly, slipping into the shadows before the remaining attackers can figure out what happened. I’ve always been good at disappearing when I need to, at using my surroundings to my advantage.

The third man hesitates, his eyes darting around the darkened room, trying to find me. But he’s looking in the wrong place.

I strike from behind, wrapping a piece of thick, dusty fabric around his throat—one of the tattered banners that once hung proudly in this museum. He struggles, his hands clawing at the fabric, but I don’t give him a chance. I tighten the grip, pulling until he goes limp, his body slumping to the floor.

One left.

The fourth man is smarter than the others. He’s not charging in blindly, not making any sudden moves. He knows he’s alone now, knows that I’ve already taken out his team. I can see the fear in his eyes, the way his hand trembles as he grips the knife in his hand.

I step out of the shadows, letting him see me. The flicker of hope in his eyes is almost pitiful. He thinks he’s going to get a fair fight. But I’m not here to fight fair. I’m here to win.

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