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The only reason I feel so sick is because of Marcello. I don't know if he’s dead or still alive. If I’m in this stinking room at the point of puking, God only knows what his conditions must be like. But still, I hope and pray he’s not dead. Giorgio wouldn’t kill him just like that. Marcello means a lot to him, even if he’s a traitor to his organization.
I press my eyes shut, trying to picture my man’s current status. Is Giorgio torturing him? Or cis he coaxing him into forgetting me so that he can regain his former role as his right-hand man?
I need to think of a way to get out of this shit hole.
I at least accomplish my mission before dying. I’m sure I won’t rest in peace if I die and Giorgio lives. And if I’m able to kill him without dying… then maybe all of this will have been worth it.
I look around the room again, searching for just anything to get this tape off my hands. Nothing. The way my legs are tied up makes me feel like like I’ve got one foot in the grave already. I push my body forward, looking around the room. There’s a shelf installed above on the wall, but it’s too high for my hands, especially since I’m tied up like a Guinea pig.
My eyes dart around the wooden door. Suddenly, I spot a nail loosely nailed into the wall, on the verge of falling out. Considering the room’s size, it shouldn’t be hard to get to, as long as I can get myself to reach it. That nail is my best bet for getting the bindings off my hands. Though the ground is unkempt, nothing on the ground is sharp enough to cut through the tape around my hands and feet.
After shuffling around, I lean my back on the wall and stretch and push until I can feel the head of the nail with my fingertips. Just as my fingertips wrap around it, I hear voices around in the room outside of where I’m being kept. My heart flutters, but I pull the nail from its spot in the wall, wiggling it carefully while trying not to drop it before it’s out. If it falls, I may not be able to find it again, so it’s slow going.
“Come on, Daniella. Don’t give up.”
Eventually, I'm able to free the nail from its hole in the wall. Just as I pull it free, the door flings open. I freeze with my head bowed, leaning against the wall, and trying to look helpless.
"Trying to escape?" Don Giorgio walks in, puffing fog from his cigar into the musty air. I look into his delighted eyes, outrightly disgusted by his sneer as he looks me up and down. Nothing is as frustrating as seeing your enemies in front of you and not being able to hurt them because you’re helpless. He shuts the door behind him and takes off his hat, walking past me. Carefully, I begin to perforate the tape around my hands with the tip of the nail while pretending to seem weak and scared.
“I have to say, you’re a tough bitch. Maybe that explains why Marcello doesn’t want to let go of this grudge of his.”
He walks up to me, stoops down, and puffs smoke into my eyes. “I know who you are... Your brother Angelo had the same defiant blood running through his veins. Unfortunately, I can’t put up with stubborn people. My world, my rules. I’d have ended you as I did to him, but... You may be good for business.”
My blood boils in my veins, and I wish he would step closer. Just a little closer. I may not have a real weapon to fight with, but I’ve got my teeth. I’d bite a large chunk from his neck and watch him bleed. But the bastard is careful to keep his distance.
“You know, my clients like bitches like you. They’ll fuck the hell out of you, and if there’s still strength left in you, I’d be glad to pass you to another client. More money for me,” he grins wickedly.
Enraged, I spit into his eyes. He flinches and presses his eyes shut before wiping off my saliva. His face grows pale, and he jumps at me.
“You whore!” he roars as he hits me hard across the face. The muscles on my face twitch with pain, but I can’t rub it out since my hands are tied.
“You’ll weep and beg for mercy when my client tears your asshole apart.” And with that, he slides on his hat, puts his cigar between his lips, and walks out.
A few minutes later, I manage to free my hands and then my legs. The only problem I have now is how the hell to get out. Lucky for me, Don Giorgio didn’t lock the door behind him
My stomach bubbles with joy, and it crosses my mind to save Marcello first before proceeding with my plan.
The thought makes me pause. Suddenly, I realize that I love him, and that love stronger now than my determination to revenge my brother’s death. If I save him first, we’ll think of a better way to do away with this son of a bitch. We work better together, and I can’t see myself doing this without him. His life is more important than pressing on with my plan alone.
Without making a sound, I swing the door open and take a step out to a narrow hallway leading to a stairway that I assume leads to one of his businesses.
Without further ado, I run along the hallway, looking back and forth to make sure there’s no one after me.
By the time I reach the foot of the stairs, I see three hefty men with rifles climbing up. My throat becomes dry on the spot. I try to run back to the room, but behind me are two men, grinning at me mischievously. I freeze on the spot, tears almost instantly beginning to roll from of my eyes.
“You bitch. Think we don’t know how crazy you are?”
Two of them grab me by the arm and shove me into a dark room along the hallway, different from the last.
“Let go of me!" I yell, but their grip tightens around me more.
“Let’s get you wet and ready for our client.” Suddenly, one of the men has a bucket of water in his hands. He dumps it over my head, drenching me from head to toe and laughing.
How did they catch me? How are they always a step ahead? It’s as if they've been watching my every move.
“We’ve got our eyes on you. Not even your boyfriend will be able to rescue you this time. Bastard’s dead.”
Marcello, dead?
