Chapter 23: Vincent Arrives
Sam's POV
Time oozed by as slowly as molasses. Each tick of the clock dragged out longer than the last in the sterile confines of the airport holding cell. The harsh fluorescent lights beat down on me, casting everything in a stark, unforgiving glow. I sat huddled in the corner, my arms wrapped around my knees, shaking with unabated terror. Laughter from Vincent's guards ricocheted around the white-tiled room, each chuckle a hammer against my sanity.
"Look at her, boys. Scared to death. Like a little bird with nowhere to fly," one guard mocked, his words dripping with disdain.
Their amusement cut short when the thud of heavy footsteps approached, the sound growing louder until it stopped on the threshold of my makeshift prison. Silence reigned, and the air grew thick with tension.
Vincent filled the entrance, a black silhouette framed by the stark light of the hallway beyond. He flicked the remnants of ash from his cigar, the ember glowing in low light like a dragon's eye. He walked in, his steps neither hurried nor hesitant, each one filled with ominous intention.
"H-how did you-?" The words trailed away as foolish questions against a man who seemed to command the world around him.
Vincent crouched before me-his size never felt more oppressive than when he lowered himself to my level-his piercing black eyes trapping mine.
"I see you've had quite the adventure, Samantha," he rumbled, the sound reverberating through the cold room and into my bones.
My chest heaved, and a sob tore through my lips, a strangled sound that belonged in a nightmare. I scrambled back, my hands slipping against the cold floor, but there was no escaping the enclosure.
Vincent growled low in his throat, and his hand closed around my arm with the certainty of iron shackles. "Non scappare da me," he ordered, the Italian words a dark murmur.
"It's not fair!" I wailed, my voice bouncing off the walls of the room. "You have eyes and ears everywhere! You have thousands of people working for you! While I have no one!"
The dark smile that curled his lips sent a shiver down my spine. "Oh, my dear Samantha, you have me," Vincent murmured, his other hand gently, alarmingly tender, cupping my soaked cheek. "And isn't that enough?"
Before I could recoil from his touch, he pulled me into a constricting embrace, his lips brushing my ear, kissing the salty trail of my tears away. "You'll learn," he whispered. "You'll learn that my world is ready to give you everything."
The sound of childish laughter slipped into my consciousness. Joey, young and yet a specter of my darkest fears, skipped into the cell, a delighted grin splitting his angelic features.
"Mama!" he exclaimed, wrapping his little arms around both Vincent and me. The irony of that word hit me like a physical blow.
"Mama's been very naughty, hasn't she, Joey?" Vincent murmured, his voice low and filled with an ominous tone that Joey, in his innocence, likely missed.
Joey nodded solemnly, pressing closer against me. "But she came back to us, Papa."
A collective "aww" rippled through the guards, their earlier malice replaced with a perverse sentimentality.
Vincent's grip on me never wavered as he helped me to my feet. Standing before me, he shrugged off his long black jacket, the fabric whispering betrayal. He wrapped it around my shoulders, a falsified act of chivalry that cloaked me in warmth and deceit.
As we walked towards the exit, my palm burned against the pressure of Vincent's hand. I felt it-the weight of power held casually in his grasp, the echoes of a future sealed with a forced kiss on my cheek.
Joey held my other hand, his small fingers tight around mine, and I faced the grotesque tableau of our procession. Mocked by the promise of solace, I advanced through the wave of Vincent's men, actors in a play with a script I never penned and a role I never auditioned for.
As we crossed the threshold into the night, the last vestiges of hope I clung to, like delicate lifelines, snapped. The fresh air wasn't one of freedom but a bitter reminder of how little of it I truly had. My heart cried for release, yet my body moved in tandem with the Russo Mafia's twisted dance.
In the distance, the rumble of an airplane taking off taunted me-a cruel mimicry of the freedom that slipped through my trembling fingers.
