Chapter two

Chapter Two

"Camellia, get back here!"

 She could hear her father scream, but she didn't listen. Instead, she sprinted through the huge fields, past the familiar walls she grew up in, walls that caged her. As she ran past them, they seemed alien. The cold air sliced through her chest, casting cold chills over her skin.

Instantly, she regretted wearing her red off-shoulder gown; it tangled around her heels, making it harder to move. But she didn't let that stop her; she couldn't. As she sprinted further from the mansion into the fields, she could hear her father's voice echoing behind her: 

"Don't let her go. I need you to find her. Now."

Over a hundred footsteps matched the floor, all in pursuit. She continued sprinting down. The cool breeze made it worse, sending a sharp sting to the bruises on her feet. Nobody in their right senses ran with heels this high.

Their torches flickered in the distant darkness, their steps drew closer. She had less than three minutes to escape, escape her oppressive past. A plan formed in her head as she picked up her phone and dialed his number. A number she swore she would never call. But she was desperate, and he was her only hope. Without him, she was either dead or living with a dead soul.

"Fuck it, Mateo... Pick up the fucking phone."

***

He sat down, totally backed against the lights. Tendrils of smoke oozed out the glowing edge of his cigar. His narrow eyes stared into the empty darkness. He pressed his back against his executive chair. The darkness was impenetrable.

Screams rose from behind his closed door. "Sir, we have got him..." Waving his hands, the guards pushed his door open. Over three men came in, dragging a rather beaten-up man, his body hauling against the floor, his face swollen with bruises as his glasses slipped off the bridge of his nose, falling to the ground.

Mateo stood, his steamy, line-like eyes stared darkly. He did not utter a word; instead, he moved closer to them, his feet crushing the glasses he found beneath his loafers.

"Boss, what do we do to him... He dared to go against Don Ferro."

Mateo's hands chopped down sharply. His men needed no words; they knew what he meant. In a moment, no more than a mini-second, a hammer dropped hard on the man's head, budging his skull in. Dark blood spilled out.

Mateo walked away. This time, he stared out his window, inhaling the freshness of the night's air, taking in the view of the lit-up skyscrapers. A buzz escaped his phone; swiftly, he turned. Her name was still on his screen: "Camellia Moretti..." A little smile flashed on his face.

"So, Princess, you finally reached out."

***

Camellia didn't bother telling him about the details of her situation. A man like Mateo Greco already knew everything about it. She waited, hidden in the alleyway. Mateo Greco was a name well-known in the Mafia world. He was like a ghost in the underworld, the best assassin in the whole of New York.

His headlights cut through the darkness as his black Jeep drove right where she stood, packing before her. Without any hesitation, she opened the car and slipped into it, shutting the car right after she had gotten in.

"Drive." Her voice was sharp and rushed.

He turned, his sharp eyes locking onto hers. His lips smacked against each other. The darkness in his predatory eyes vanished. "... I never pictured you as a defiant, a rebel..." he scoffed.

"You're making a mistake, Princess," he murmured, his narrow eyes turned away from her. Tapping the wheel impatiently, he asked, "Where to?"

"... Somewhere my father can't reach me." She responded, her tone precise.

Mateo smirked, his eyes glowing. "That's a tall order... Somewhere Luca Moretti wouldn't be able to find you..." He scoffed again.

Camellia didn't respond; instead, she turned away, facing the window as she watched the speeding buildings. The silence was oppressive. Throughout the ride, no word was said, though Camellia could feel Mateo's intimidating eyes on her. She didn't pay attention to him; how could she when her pulse pounded? Her hands gripped the edge of her seat, her eyes stared out, watching the speeding scraper lights.

Though she was quiet, her head wasn't. It was filled with all sorts of thoughts. Soon, the Jeep stopped right before an abandoned warehouse. Camellia allowed her eyes to travel around, take in the scenery - tall wooden trees scattered here and there. Mateo gestured with his hands, indicating it was time for her to step out. She hesitated for a while, but enough, she followed him.

On the warehouse doors, she saw it, the symbol of a large wolf with sharp teeth. She knew that symbol. That totem belonged to... The figure in front confirmed it, it belonged to the Requiem, Alejandro's mafia.

Their sole heir and her future husband stood, leaning against his black Rolls-Royce. Alejandro Ricci. Smoke curled at the bottom of his cigarette as it burned between his fingers.

Her stomach twisted; it couldn't be. No. She spun around, charging towards Mateo. Her blazing eyes accused. "You sold me out?"

Mateo chuckled. His steamy eyes gleaming, "Business is business, Princess."

"Why didn't you just sell me off to my Father?" She questioned, anger burning in her voice.

"...I go with the highest bidders always... Ricci's money spoke louder, Princess."

Before Camellia could run away, Alejandro moved, countering her. He moved so fast, it was almost scary. One moment, she was by Mateo's side. The next, he had her pinned against his car, his massive hands holding her wrists roughly.

She could smell his scent, a mixture of cigarette smoke and sandalwood. "I love your fire, Camellia... " he murmured, his hot breath falling against her skin. "but never forget who can tame it."

She could sense the danger in his voice. Like a lamb with a lion, she shook in fear, but she wasn't the type to be easily compressed, not without a fight. She tried to shake him off, but she couldn't. She was helpless.

"You can try to escape Luca Moretti, your father... But I am not him."

Though she felt her heart pounding in her chest, she refused to look away. Her eyes never left his, ever.

"Clearly," she spat, her tone full of disgust. "You're worse than him."

Alejandro smirked, his brown eyes glistening. "... I do not care about your ratings, Camellia. Soon, you'll learn..." He leaned closer to her, his breath hotter against her ear. "I own you, now and forever."