Silent Shadows

𝐕𝐈𝐈 |𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖'𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍|

Mia's Pov:

BANG.

I jolt awake to the deafening noise, my heart pounding in my chest. A cry pierces the silence, sending shivers down my spine. Frantically, I scramble out of bed, my mind foggy with fear as I stumble towards the door.

Twisting the handle, panic sets in as I realize it's locked. Desperation claws at my throat as I fumble with the pins in my hair, futilely attempting to pick the electronic lock. With each failed attempt, a wave of anxiety washes over me, choking any hope for escape.

Collapsing to the bed, the weight of the past two days crashes down upon me. Bella and Antonio, their grief tangible in every word and gesture, serve as a painful reminder of loss. Gianni's haunting words echo in my mind.

As I knelt beside him, the rusted chair groaned beneath his weight, a stark reminder of the fragility of life.

"They may not know," he murmured, his voice a fragile whisper, as if each word cost him dearly. "I am sure you will meet them soon, but you shall not inform those who ask."

His words, laden with resignation, pierced through the silence like a knife. The gravity of his situation weighed heavily upon us both, a somber reminder of the cruel hand fate had dealt.

But despite the darkness that threatened to engulf us, a flicker of determination still burned within him. "Enjoy your life," he urged, his voice tinged with a bittersweet longing. "There's plenty of time to be dead."

As tears welled in my eyes, I felt the weight of his final wishes pressing down upon me. He continues to talk about his son.

"Help him," he implored, his words a plea for redemption. "I won't die. I promise, but I need you to leave. Now, Ms. Accardi."

With a heavy heart, I rose to my feet, the broken door beckoning me towards an uncertain future. The distant rumble of trucks echoed through the desolate landscape, a cruel reminder of the world outside that continued to turn, oblivious to our plight.

"Change your name," his voice echoed in my mind, a haunting refrain that lingered long after I had left his side. "Be invisible, be the fighter I know you are. Do the universe a favor, bambina... don't hide your magic."

In the silence of the bedroom, I'm haunted by memories of him—the fire, the stolen supplies, the worried glances that spoke volumes. He saw something in me worth fighting for, and he made me the survivor I am today. It's hard to forget someone who gave me so much to remember. He's the reason I honed my skills to become the ruthless survivor I am today. His teachings, and his guidance, shaped me into the killer I never thought I'd become.

I took the risk a few months ago to call him on the burner phone. I called every day and there was no response. I knew what that meant.

Adriano's entrance is abrupt, disrupting the tranquility of the room as he brandishes two semi-automatic rifles. He tosses me the AR-15, and I marvel at its sleek design, feeling its weight in my hands. She's a beauty.

But before I can fully appreciate it, Adriano's voice cuts through the air like a blade. His eyes, dark with intensity, lock onto mine, his demeanor leaving no room for misunderstanding. "Let me be clear," he asserts, his words dripping with unwavering determination.

I glance down, momentarily distracted by the sight of his toned physique, the tattoos peeking out from beneath his tight shirt. But my attention is drawn to a certain imprint and Holy Sh-.

"I trust no one but blood," he declares, his stance unwavering, his gaze unwavering.

A smirk dances across my lips as I raise the rifle, aiming it at his chest in mock threat. "You realize you just handed me an AR-15," I retort, the weight of the gun lending an unexpected confidence to my words. "Pew pew, motherfucker."