𝒫𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓃𝑒

Chapter 2

The Rolls Royce glided smoothly along the winding road, the landscape outside shifting from the quiet cemetery to the dense, towering pines that seemed to close in around them. The hum of the engine was the only sound inside the car, a constant low thrum that did nothing to calm Eleanor's racing heart. She sat in the back seat, pressed against the door, her eyes darting from Vito to the other man in the front seat—another imposing figure with a cold, watchful expression.

She tried to steady her breathing, but panic was a wild thing, clawing at her insides. Every few seconds, she would glance out the window, searching for something familiar, something that would tether her to reality. But the further they drove, the more remote the landscape became. The trees thickened, the road narrowed, and soon they were moving through a stretch of wilderness that seemed untouched by time.

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours. The silence in the car was suffocating, the weight of it pressing down on her until she thought she might scream. She could feel Vito's presence beside her, solid and unmoving, a constant reminder that escape was not an option. Her mind raced with questions—who were these men? What did they want with her?—but none of them had answers that she could grasp.

The car suddenly veered off the main road, taking a sharp turn onto a gravel path. Eleanor's pulse quickened, her breath catching in her throat as the vehicle bounced over the uneven terrain. She glanced out the window again, her eyes widening as the path opened up into a small clearing.

There, at the center, was a sleek, silver private jet, its polished exterior gleaming under the fading light of the day. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of panic through her—this was no ordinary car ride, no simple abduction. They were taking her somewhere far, far away.

"Where are we going?" Eleanor's voice broke the silence, trembling and high-pitched.

Neither Vito nor the driver answered. Instead, the car slowed to a stop a few yards from the jet. Vito opened the door on his side, stepping out with the calm precision of a man who had done this a thousand times before. Eleanor's panic spiked as she watched him move around the car, her mind screaming at her to do something, anything, to get away.

But before she could even think of a plan, Vito was opening her door, his hand reaching in to grip her arm. "It's time to go," he said, his voice low and unyielding.

"No!" Eleanor cried, pulling back, her fear turning to raw desperation. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

Vito's grip tightened, but not painfully so. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be, ragazza. You're coming with us."

She fought him, her hands pushing against the doorframe, her feet kicking against the seat. But Vito was immovable, his strength overwhelming her resistance with ease. He pulled her from the car, her struggles doing little more than exhausting her.

The other man, who had been watching from the front seat, stepped out as well, moving to help Vito. Together, they dragged Eleanor toward the jet, her feet barely touching the ground as they carried her up the short flight of steps to the open door. She could feel the cold metal of the plane under her fingers as she grasped at anything to slow them down, but it was no use.

Alessio stood at the base of the steps, a cigarette between his lips, the smoke curling lazily around his head. He watched the scene with an unreadable expression, his dark eyes following Eleanor's every movement as his men hauled her onto the plane. As Vito and the other man forced her inside, he took a long drag on the cigarette, exhaling slowly.

"I think she'll be a handful," Alessio remarked, his voice carrying the same calm authority as before. He flicked ash from the end of the cigarette, his gaze shifting to the man standing beside him—a tall, broad-shouldered figure with a stern face and sharp eyes.