Page 45 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

EMILY

The night feels endless as I lie in Lucas’s arms. The exhaustion from everything we’ve shared tonight pulls at me, but sleep refuses to come.

Instead, there’s a weight pressing down on my chest, a familiar ache that I’ve been carrying for years, buried deep but never really gone.

I try to push it aside, to focus on the steady rise and fall of Lucas’s chest beneath my cheek, the rhythmic beat of his heart against my ear.

But the darkness of the room seems to magnify everything I’m trying to forget, and before I know it, the memories start to flood in, relentless and overwhelming.

My mother’s face flashes in my mind, her smile, the warmth of her embrace. The way she used to wash my hair, humming softly, making me feel safe, loved. The memories are sharp, vivid, and they bring with them a wave of grief so intense it takes my breath away.

I close my eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are already burning behind my eyelids, but it’s no use. The ache in my chest is too strong, too raw, and before I can stop it, a sob escapes my lips.

Lucas stirs beside me, his hold on me tightening as he wakes up, instantly alert. “Emily?” His voice is rough with sleep, but there’s an edge of concern in it that cuts through the fog of my grief. He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching my face in the dim light. “What’s wrong?”

I can’t answer, not right away. The tears are coming faster now, slipping down my cheeks, and I hate that he’s seeing me like this—so vulnerable, so broken. But I can’t hide it, not from him. Not anymore.

“Emily,” he says again, softer this time, his hand cupping my cheek, wiping away the tears with his thumb. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

The tenderness in his voice, the concern in his eyes, breaks something inside me. I can’t keep it in anymore. The words spill out of me, raw and unfiltered, the pain that I’ve been carrying for so long finally finding its voice.

“I miss her,” I whisper, my voice cracking with the weight of the confession. “I miss my mom so much, Lucas. It’s been four years, but it still hurts like it just happened yesterday.”

The admission hangs in the air between us, heavy and full of sorrow. I’ve never said it out loud, never let myself really feel the depth of my grief. But here, in the safety of his arms, it’s like a dam has broken, and I can’t stop the flood of emotions that follows.

“She was everything to me,” I continue, my voice trembling. “She was my best friend. And then she was just… gone. And I didn’t know how to keep going without her.”

Lucas doesn’t say anything, but the way he holds me, the way he listens, makes me feel like it’s okay to keep going, to let it all out. He’s not trying to fix it, not trying to offer empty words of comfort. He’s just… here. And that’s enough.

“I’ve been so scared,” I admit, the words coming out in a rush. “Scared of loving anyone again, scared of losing them the way I lost her. It’s why I’ve kept people at arm’s length, why I’ve been so afraid to let you in.”

His hand moves to the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair, grounding me in the present, in the reality of his touch.

“Emily,” he says, his voice a rough whisper, filled with a kind of understanding that makes my heart ache. “You’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

I nod, but the tears keep coming, the grief too deep, too raw to be soothed by words alone. “I just… I don’t know how to move on, how to live with this pain. It’s like a part of me died with her, and I don’t know how to get it back. Your parents died. You seem to do okay. What’s the secret?”

“There is no secret. I think of them everyday. I try to make them proud, despite how distant they were when they were alive. It just takes time. I tell them I’ll get revenge one day and that day is coming.”

“Revenge? I thought you said it was a car crash.”

He frowns, like he’s trying to decide whether or not to tell me something. “Albrecht cut their brakes,” he says after a long silence. “Oil on the road. They burned up alive because they wouldn’t cut a deal with him.”

“A deal? What kind of a deal?”

“He was going into human trafficking. Said that was where the real money was. Wanted them to invest. When they said no, he pretended to accept it, then did that.”

“That’s why you hate him so much, isn’t it?”

“He’s a disease, spreading through the city. I’ll be at peace when he’s dead. I know it.” He manages a small smile. “Your mother would be proud of you, trying to make it as a journalist.”

“You think?”

“Sure. You’ve got a goal. Not everyone has.”

“Can’t get anyone to accept my articles though. Maybe I’m not cut out for it.”

“Life has taught me one thing. Never, ever, give up.” He stares into my eyes like he’s speaking directly to my soul. “You got that?”

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