Chapter Six: How to escape the Lion's Den

Did I mention before that there are other ways I could have opted to die?

I probably did, but maybe I wasn't properly understood the first time. Now, look, lemme make this straight for anyone who could get the wrong idea. When I say I rather have them stick needles in my vagina, throw me into a sea of boiling oil, drag me behind a herd of stampeding elephants or even feed me to a school of ravenous sharks, and I'd rather ensure any of that than being caught as a breathing, walking intruder in the mansion of Alessandro Ferrara.

Now, don't get me wrong; it's not that I'm that I'm that eager to live. I actually want to die. Just that if I had options, this would most definitely not be in my top ten picks.

As I lay there, hidden beneath the musty body bag, I think about what my life could have been. I could have been anything, a doctor, a cat lady with a million furry overloads, or even Beyonce. I feel the truck's engine sputter and die and my life flashes before my eyes for a minute. The sudden silence is oppressive, punctuated by only creaks and groans of the vehicle's metal body. I have no time to process anything, because the next thing, I hear the sound of the doors opening, clearly indicating that the men have just stepped down.

I stay out and hold my breath, my heart racing faster than it has ever done. If they opened this trunk, I was meat. That would be it. Game over.

Their voices are muffled and they seem to be speaking in a different language, but I can make out snippets of their conversation.

“Body, first?” I believe I hear one say, it sounds like a question — as if asking if they should burn the body first.

They cannot open this trunk!

Please, Lord, they CANNOT open this trunk!

Then, I hear the other man's voice but I can't make out a single word he says. I hear stomach gurgling from one of them, so when I also hear their feet seemingly shuffling into a distance that becomes difficult to hear, I understand that they may be leaving to get something to eat.

I'm not convinced. Neither do I want to take chances. So, I wait a little longer until I am certain I cannot hear a single sound anymore from where I lay, hidden inside that trunk. It feels like an eternity, but I can soon convince myself that my ears aren't picking up any sound. No footsteps, no voices, no weird stomach gurgling.

Slowly, I lift the edge of the body bag and pull up the boot to peek out. The trunk is empty, except for me. I take a deep breath and hoist myself out, my muscles aching from being cramped in the small space. God, my body hurts like shit. If I knew that trying to seduce a man and kidnap his wife would get me into such a mess, I would have just robbed a bank instead.

Lord, the things I'd do to become rich.

I look around, trying to get my bearings. We're in some kind of garage or warehouse, large and vast with concrete walls and a high ceiling. I understand that being rich means having cool stuff but what was the point of having such a space for just one garbage. I could live in this space…

Wait, should I?

God, I need to focus! Getting out of this space was one feat, but I needed to find a way to creep myself out of this house, unnoticed. With that, I look around the space, trying to find something, anything, that could have been an escape route.

“Bingo.” I nod to myself as soon as I spot a ventilation shaft in the wall. It's partially hidden by a stack of crates that could fall, alert the entire world of my presence and get me burned alive on a stake by Alessandro and his men, but it looks like my best bet yet.

I sprint over to the vent and climb up, pushing softly aside some of the crates and hoisting myself into the shaft. It's a tight squeeze, but I manage to wriggle my way through. If they couldn't hear my creeping, I am certain my heart pounding in my chest was loud enough to get their damn attention!

As I crawl through the ductwork, I try to get my bearings. I have no idea where I am or where I'm going. All I know is that I need to keep moving. And, finally, I see a glimmer of light ahead and realize I'm approaching a vent cover. I carefully push it open and peer out, finding myself in a long, opulent hallway.

I'm trying to get out of the house, but it looks like no matter how much I try, I am getting myself further into this mansion.

“What does a girl have to do to leave a house she broke into?” I whisper as I look around this mini-heaven I am surrounded by.

The walls are lined with ornate mirrors and expensive-looking artwork. The floor is covered in plush carpet that looks like it would cost just about the same as my kidney.

Should I sell my kidney?

Before I have the chance to space out into a daydream of vanity, I hear the sound of voices, muffled but unmistakable, coming from somewhere down the hall and I freeze.

I press my back against the wall, holding my breath as I try to locate the source of the voices. My heart is racing, but my curiosity is piqued. Who are these people, and what are they talking about?

I slowly start to creep down the hall, trying not to make a sound. The voices grow louder, and I can make out a few words here and there. They're speaking in hushed tones, but it sounds like they're discussing something serious.

What can I say, I'm a fucking idiot. Instead of finding another hiding spot, I decide to insert myself into a situation that's clearly none of my business. My legs seem to have a mind of their own, carrying me closer to the source of the noise. Before I know it, I'm standing in front of a set of large, ornate doors that are slightly ajar.

Inside the room, there are a bunch of men. I hear the sounds clearer from here, all in muffled screams, but I don't see who the shouts are from, until the men start to disperse, revealing a brutally beaten, half-naked man tied up to a chair in the center of the room. His face is a mess of blood and bruises, his eyes swollen shut. He's struggling to breathe, his chest heaving with ragged gasps.

That's when I realize that the men surrounding him are Alessandro's goons; they have towering heights, bulky body mass and faces that twist with cruel grins, taking in pleasure in the man's suffering.

My mind reels into shock and disgust, but I stay frozen with dread on my spot and dare not to move or make a sound. I wonder about so many things. Who is this man, and what on earth could he have done to deserve such brutal treatment?

A new presence enters the scene and I feel it like a jolt of electricity. The air seems to vibrate with tension and I sense a shift in the atmosphere. I turn my attention to the figure at the corner of the room and I'm struck with the familiarity of that tall, broad-shouldered shadow of a man in the darkness, his dark hair perfectly messy. He steps further into the light and his presence seems to draw the air out of my lungs, as he strides towards the battered and bruised man with a calm and collected swagger that holds all the breaths in the room.

It was him — Alessandro Ferrara.

The beaten man's eyes widen in terror as soon as he sees Alessandro, his whole body trembling and shaking with a fear I can't comprehend.

“Please, man. Please, please don't kill me!" The man's voice is shaking, his words tumbling out in a desperate plea as he clasps his hands together, "Please, I will do anything. I have a wife, kids, they need me! Please, have mercy!”

Alessandro stands over him, his figure looming ominously as his shadow forms a towering silhouette over the begging man.

Without warning, he suddenly rips off his shirt, revealing a chiseled torso that makes my eyes widen in shock and thirst. His muscles are defined, his abs rippling beneath his skin as he moves. He's sweating, tiny droplets of perspiration glistening on his skin like diamonds. The way he's sweating is almost... sensual, as if his body is radiating heat, making the air around him seem to shimmer. It's hot, primal, and utterly captivating. I'm so taken aback by the awe of him, and for a moment, I forget the horror of the situation.

But Alessandro's actions snap me back to reality. He takes his shirt and wraps it around the man's neck, pulling it tight with a ruthless efficiency. The man's eyes bulge, his face turning purple as he struggles to breathe. I watch in horror as Alessandro tightens his grip, the man's body thrashing wildly before going limp. Alessandro's strangling that man with his own sweaty shirt.

I feel a scream building in my throat, but I manage to stifle it. My heart races with fear. I'm paralyzed with shock, unable to move or look away. Alessandro's eyes seem to gleam with cold, calculating intensity as he tightens his grip, ensuring the man's fate is sealed.

And then, in a swift, deadly motion, Alessandro releases the shirt and the man's body drops to the ground, still. He watches the man for three seconds, his eyes calm and emotionless as he surveys his artwork.

“Get rid of him.” Was his silent order to his men who were up and doing on his command.

Alessandro stands there, with his shirt hung over his bare shoulders as his men do the work. He scans the room carefully and if you ask me why I am still standing here and watching him, I can't give a befitting answer that makes any damn sense. He's intent and observant and like a laser beam, his gaze snaps in my direction.

I feel it like a punch to the gut, my breath knocked out of me in an instant and I have no chance to even think. I run. I fucking RUN!

My feet pound on the floor as I sprint down the hallway. I pump my arms as fast as I can as I hear footsteps behind me, heavy and deliberate, but I don't dare look back. I keep my eyes fixed on the hallway ahead, desperate to find a way out of this mansion.

I take a sharp turn to the left, my feet skidding on the polished floor. I manage to regain my balance, but my momentum is slowed. When I spot a door at the end of the hallway, I make a beeline for it. I push it open and sprint through, slamming it shut behind me. I lean against the door, panting heavily, and try to listen for any sound from the other side, but I hear none — realizing I'm safe. I walk into the room, looking for where to escape through.

“Oh my gosh, that was so close—”

But, before I can even catch my breath or finish my sigh of relief, I feel a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around to slam my back into my aggressor’s hard torso. I try to struggle, but it's no use. A hand clamps over my mouth and nose, covering me with a sweet-smelling cloth.

And that's it. My world goes black.