Page 55 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

I move toward the door, my breath coming in shallow gasps, the adrenaline pumping through my veins. My mind races, trying to figure out what to do next. I don’t know how long I have before Albrecht comes back, or before one of his men decides to check on me, but I know I have to be ready.

I position myself near the door, my back against the wall, the pipe gripped tightly in my hands. My heart is pounding so loud I’m sure they’ll hear it, but I force myself to stay calm, to focus. I’m not going down without a fight. I’m not going to let them take me without making them pay.

The silence is oppressive, broken only by the distant sounds of the harbor—waves lapping against the docks, the creak of metal, the occasional shout of a worker in the distance.

I hold my breath, every muscle tensed, waiting for the sound of footsteps, the telltale creak of the door.

And then I hear it—the faint scuff of a boot against concrete, the quiet murmur of voices outside the container. My grip on the pipe tightens, my knuckles turning white as I brace myself. This is it. My one chance.

The door swings open, and the blinding light from outside floods the container, momentarily disorienting me. But I don’t hesitate. I don’t let fear paralyze me. I lunge forward, swinging the pipe with all the strength I can muster, aiming for the first shadow that moves through the doorway.

There’s a sickening thud as the pipe connects with flesh, a grunt of pain that echoes in the tight space. I don’t stop to see the damage I’ve done—I can’t afford to. I swing again, my vision blurred by tears, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I fight with everything I have.

But then, something slams into my side, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. The pipe slips from my grasp as I’m thrown to the ground, the cold metal floor knocking the breath from my lungs. Pain radiates through my ribs, sharp and burning, but I force myself to roll, to move, to fight.

Strong hands grab my arms, pinning me down, and I struggle, kicking and thrashing, but it’s no use. They’re too strong, and I’m too weak, too exhausted. My vision swims, the edges going dark as I gasp for breath, panic clawing at my throat.

“Hold her still,” a voice snarls above me, and I feel the weight of someone pressing down on my chest, their breath hot against my ear. “Stop fighting, you little bitch, or we’ll make you regret it.”

But I can’t stop. I can’t give up. I claw at the hands holding me down, my nails digging into flesh, but they don’t relent. The darkness closes in, suffocating me, and for a moment, I think this is it. This is how it ends.

“We were bringing you food,” the voice hisses in my ear. “If this is how you react, fuck you. Starve.”

The pain is immediate, sharp and blinding, and I gasp, my vision going black as I hit the cold, hard floor. The last thing I hear before the darkness takes me is the sound of a door slamming shut, locking me back into the suffocating darkness.

40

LUCAS

My phone rings, sharp and shrill, cutting through the chaos like a knife. I snatch it up, my hand trembling with the adrenaline that’s been coursing through me since the moment I found out she was gone.

I’m outside the cop’s hideout, my men surrounding me. It’s the moment of truth. Interrupted by a phone call.

I shove it to my ear.

“If you want her back, Lucas, you’ll come see me with the details of all your accounts.” Albrecht’s voice is smooth, too smooth, dripping with that smugness that makes my blood boil.

He thinks he’s won. He thinks he’s got me cornered. But he has no idea what I’m willing to do, what I’m capable of when someone takes what’s mine.

“You have until daybreak,” Albrecht continues, his tone almost mocking. “And just so we’re clear, this isn’t a negotiation. This is your one and only chance to save her life. I want it all.”

My grip on the phone tightens, my knuckles white. The rage is there, bubbling under the surface, but I force it down, force myself to stay calm.

“Fine,” I say, my voice cold, devoid of the fury clawing at my insides. “I’ll meet you. Send me the location.”

“My house of course. We’ll sit and drink tea like civilized men.”

I hang up before he can say anything else, the rage turning my vision red for a moment. He thinks he can dictate terms to me. He thinks I’ll just hand over what’s mine and walk away. But this isn’t about money or territory.

This is about Emily. And I’m going to make him pay for every second she’s spent in his hands.

“Jake,” I bark, turning to him, my mind already spinning through the options. “Get him out here.”

Jake goes over to an open front door and drags a cop out. The man’s face is a mess of bruises, his eyes wide with fear as he stumbles into the open. I don’t feel an ounce of pity for him. He’s part of this, part of why Emily is out there, and he’s going to pay for it.

The air thickens as Jake drags the cop forward, his footsteps echoing off the walls. I watch him, my emotions simmering just below the surface, barely restrained.

Jake shoves him to his knees in front of me, his grip firm on the man’s shoulder, keeping him in place. The cop’s eyes flicker up to meet mine, and I see the fear there, the knowledge that his life hangs by a thread.

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