Page 4 of Stolen By the Devil

Three men in dark clothing stood in the room, their presence suffocating. My mother was on her knees, her frail form trembling as one of the men hovered over her. His hand was wrapped around her wrist, holding her in place like she was some kind of possession.

"Stop!" The word tore from my throat before I could think.

The largest of the men turned to face me. His gaze cut through the dim light, and I knew instantly who he was.

Everyone knew…

The Devil—Drago Barone.

His reputation was a whispered terror in the streets, a man with no mercy, no heart. I had heard stories about the mafia boss—about the debts he collected, the lives he ruined. I had never thought I would meet him face-to-face.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I had no idea what he was doing here, but the reality of the situation hit me like a blow to the head. I looked from him to my mother, and in that instant, I knew we were both as good as dead.

Drago’s gaze swept over me, assessing. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lingered on my hair, my skin. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice smooth like velvet but laced with something dangerous.

I swallowed hard, feeling my throat tighten. "I’m her daughter…Angel…Christened Angela Maria."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. His lips curled into something that resembled amusement, but there was nothing kind about it. "You don’t look Italian, Angela Maria," he said, his gaze lingering on my pale skin. "Who’s your father?"

The question was like a slap, one I had no answer for. I had asked my mother that question a hundred times over the years, but she never told me.

"I don’t know," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. My eyes flicked to my mother, who covered her face with both hands.

Drago stared at me for a moment, then glanced at my mother. His grip on her tightened. "Why would you try to save her? She owes more money than you can imagine. She’s a lost cause."

I glanced at my mother, seeing the fear in her eyes as she looked up at me, the way her body trembled. She looked so small, so fragile. Despite all her flaws and addictions, she was still the only family I had.

"Because she’s my mother," I said, my voice steady. "And I love her, even though she’s made mistakes. Even though she’s an addict, I wouldn’t wish harm on her."

Drago’s expression hardened, though there was something flickering in his eyes, something I couldn’t quite place. "You’re soft," he said, his tone almost mocking.

"Compassion isn’t soft," I countered, my voice firmer now, surprising even myself. "It’s strength. It’s caring for someone even when it’s hard."

A heavy silence hung in the room. The other men exchanged glances, but Drago’s eyes remained locked on mine. I could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the tension in the air thickening. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence.

"Grab her."

Panic surged through me as the men advanced. I struggled, pulling away, but their huge hands were like iron,holding me fast. "What are you doing?!" I cried out, fear rising in my chest.

Drago’s voice was cold as he answered. "If you care about your mother so much, you’ll come with me. She’s free of her debt now. Consider it paid."

"No!" I thrashed against their hold, my heart racing. "What do you want with me?"

"You’ll see," Drago said, a cruel smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Before I could say another word, a bag was thrown over my head, and my world went dark.

The suffocating darkness pressed in on me as the bag covered my head, stealing away any remaining sense of control. My heart pounded furiously, panic tightening every muscle in my body. I could hear the muffled shuffling of footsteps around me, and the grip of the men holding me in place was unrelenting.

I tried to breathe, tried to calm the overwhelming terror coursing through my veins, but it was impossible. My mind raced through a thousand thoughts all at once—none of them comforting. Where was I being taken? What did Drago Barone want with me? How could this be happening?

The air inside the bag was stifling, making it hard to think clearly. I stumbled as they led me forward, and the hands gripping my arms only tightened, keeping me upright. The sounds of the apartment faded as we moved further away. My last desperate thought was of my mother. Had they hurt her? Was she truly free, or was that just another lie?

I couldn't tell where we were going, or how long we walked. My breaths became shallow, my head light from a mix of exhaustion and fear. I knew enough about Drago Barone'sreputation to know that mercy was not in his nature. Whatever his plans for me were, I doubted they involved anything good.

Suddenly, I was shoved into what felt like the backseat of a vehicle. The leather beneath me was cool and unfamiliar. I could hear the engine hum to life, and then we were moving.

My mind raced. What should I do? Was there any chance of escape? The tight grip of fear kept me frozen in place. Even though I couldn’t see the faces of the men on either side of me, I could feel the heavy weight of their presence.

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