Unmasking The Mafia

Chapter 47

You jolt awake, disoriented and confused. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim light in the room and for you to realize where you are.

As soon as your brain recognizes the predicament you're in, panic hits you. You try to sit up, but your limbs are restricted by the metal cuffs around your wrists and ankles, chaining you to the bed.

Terror washes over you as you see Oliver walk into the room, closing the door and locking it behind him.

He looks even more sinister now than the last time you saw him, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

"Awake already? I was hoping you'd stay out longer."

He saunters towards the bed, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee.

Oliver chuckles as he watches you struggle against your bonds, clearly amused by your attempts to escape.

"Struggling is useless," he says, his tone mocking. "Those chains are designed to keep you right where you are."

He stops beside the bed, looking down at you with a sinister smile.

"Comfy?" he asks sarcastically. Oliver then smirks, clearly enjoying this. He loves having you at his mercy, relishes the fact that he has control over you now.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why? Well, because I can. Because it's fun."

He leans in closer, his eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction, "and because I want what you have. What's rightfully mine."

"I'm not yours. I never was."

His eyes flash with anger at your words, his jaw clenching. He clearly doesn't like being contradicted.

"You were supposed to be," he growls, his voice low and tinged with madness. "You were supposed to be mine. We were supposed to be together."

"That little stunt of yours all those years ago is proof that you act without thinking. Now let me go."

Oliver scoffs, obviously not willing to listen to reason, “let you go? Oh, you’re funny.”

He leans in even closer, his face just inches away from yours.

"I've spent years plotting this. Years, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take back what's mine. I'm not letting you go now that I finally have you."

His smirk widens as you struggle against your bonds, finding pleasure in your attempts to escape.

Oliver steps closer, standing right beside the bed, looking down at you with a predatory glint in his eyes.

"No use fighting it," he says, his voice low and menacing. "You're mine now, and there's nothing you can do about it."

William, on the other hand, sits in the living room, his eyes narrowed in anger. He's been awake for a while but has been feigning unconsciousness, biding his time and waiting for the chance to attack.

He's been chained to a chair, his hands tied behind his back and his legs bound to the legs of the chair. There's a gag in his mouth, preventing him from shouting out for help.

His eyes flash with anger and hatred as he sees Michael and Cassandra enter the room. His muscles tense, his fists clenching behind his back.

William attempts to say something, but it's muffled by the gag in his mouth. Clearly he's furious and wants to tear both of them apart.

But his eyes soon widen in horror as he hears your scream coming from upstairs. Every protective instinct he has flares to life, and he starts struggling against his bonds with renewed vigour.