Rovbers

✧𝐗𝐕𝐈 (a matter of time)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

-

I opened the door to my bedroom and slowly crept downstairs. I hoped and prayed it was just something wrong with the fuse box or something like a rat biting into the cables.

My bare feet barely made full contact with the cold floor as I finally made it to the last step. I went into the living room to try and turn on one of the side lamps, but they didn't budge.

I took a deep breath and told myself the power would be back soon and everything would be alright. I was safe. I was safe. I kept repeating
in my head. No need to be dramatic.

That seemed to make me feel better, until I spotted a dark black mass in the patio behind the large glass sliding doors. I peeked closer. There seemed to be a man lying on the floor next to the glass. A handprint leaving behind a dark red streak of blood right underneath the handle.

It was one of Niccolò's bodyguards. Somebody had murdered him. Somebody who was trying to get into Niccolò's house. How was that even possible? I thought as I took a step back.

My legs felt like they were gonna give up and drag me down with them. But I remained as calm as I possibly could. I ran to Niccolò's elevator where I knew I could try to start one of the cars on the basement and drive off to safety.

"Where are you going? Mrs. Conti?" A low voice spoke from behind me nearly making me fall forwards.

I slowly turned around and saw the man I recognized as Frederico Gustamante. One of Borecci's minions. He was in Niccolo's house. Sitting in one of the living room sofas in a dark corner staring at me like a man out for blood.

He wore the same black mask he had on when Borecci threatened me with a poor man's severed hand in a gift box. But I could still recognize his accent and remember the audible rasp in his voice. 

His brown eyes searched all around the room and scanned at everything that belonged to Niccolò Conti.

His stare remained on mine as he stood up from the sofa chair. He fixed his formal tux with his tattooed hand before making his way over to me.

"How did you get in here? Nic— my husband will be here at any moment. I suggest you leave before he gets here." I tried my hardest to remain calm. But I felt vulnerable and afraid.

He only let out a huff of air that could pass for a laugh. He stepped closer and I stepped back. I only had a few seconds to think about what my next move was going to be. Either be murdered or kidnapped from Niccolò's home. Or be murdered or kidnapped but after putting on a fight.

"Don't come any closer, please—" I chocked out, pulling the bathrobe tighter over my body, the last of the words fading at the feeling of my throat closing in on itself. Of course he wasn't going to stop at my request.

"It's alright, pretty girl."
His English accent strong as he finally stopped
a few feet in front of me.

"I'm only here to talk." His voice was raspy and menacing. "I recall my boss offered you a drink when you were a guest at his house. Where's mine?" He sounded like he was out of breath.

"You said it yourself, your boss offered
me a drink. Not you."

He slowly placed his hand under his coat and I didn't have to be a complete genius to realize he was going to point a weapon at me.