The Mafia Boss

Chapter 1

They came in the middle of the night. 

Screams awoke me from my half-slumber state, snapping me from my dreams and crashing me into the very real nightmare occurring downstairs. 

"Get up." 

I scrambled to my feet, my wobbling legs hindering my attempt to dress myself as Tara began stuffing my clothes into a duffel. 

"What's happening?" I asked my maid. Her usual tanned skin appeared paler in this light, her eyes wide in fright as she zipped up the bag and threw it in my direction. 

"They've found us." 

My gut roiled. The day had finally come. 

"You must escape, use the tunnels. I'll try and hold them off for as long as I can." 

I shook my head. I would not be leaving her here to fend for herself against these monsters. 

"No, Tara. I will not have your blood spilt on my behalf." 

Another round of screams from downstairs told me they were nearing closer. 

"You must go, Sofia. That is an order from your father." 

I reached for the duffel at my feet. Where was my father now? Sunning himself on a yacht somewhere in the Mediterranean? The life of a Mafia boss, protecting himself and having no care for the casualties along the way. 

My mother had been murdered some two years before, and now I was next. 

The Italian Mafia gang, Bloodstone, had been an enemy of my fathers for years. They had been hunting us down like cattle since before I was born. My mother paid the price for being married to a Russian Mafia boss, and now I was surely being punished for being the offspring of one. 

All fight had left me. I didn't care anymore. 

What was a life of being on the run anyway? 

I was so tired of hiding, of living enclosed in locked rooms. I'd rather death find me instead, maybe then I could find some peace. 

Tara seemed to notice the resolution lining my face as I dropped the bag to the floor. I would not be running again. 

"No, Sofia, please. You need to run, now! They will kill you!" 

I shook my head and walked myself over to my dressing table. "I am done with running, Tara. You must leave though, go home to your family. This is not your battle." 

Tara looked torn. I knew she had a family somewhere in New Jersey, and that she hadn't seen them in years. 

"Go." I demanded as she stood there. "Leave now." 

I emulated my fathers authoritative facial expression as I pointed towards the door. Tara nodded, slipping through the door without looking back. 

I sat myself before the vanity mirror. My reflection stared back at me, a girl with wide eyes and blushed cheeks. I grabbed my comb and began the calming task of brushing my hair, flinching with every gun shot echoing down below. 

Tonight I would die. The thought didn't terrify me as much as it should. 

A few moments passed before the wooden door to my bedroom swung open, four Italian men pouring inside, their guns pointed at my head. 

I halted my brushing, angling my head towards the eight dark eyes and the glowing intent flashing there. 

"Good evening." I say, placing the comb down and twisting myself until I am sat facing the four menacing looking men. "How are we going to do this, then?"

The men shift, their tanned bodies moving with ease as they spread out around my vast room. Checking for hiding guns, I assume. 

"There is no body here except me." I say calmly, my hands shaking in my lap. I had mastered the art of controlling my voice, though my hands almost always gave me away. 

The largest of the four men takes a step forward then, "You are Sofia Petrov." 

It  wasn't a question, it was a sentencing. 

"I am." 

"We are here to kill you, for your fathers crimes against us." The large man spoke in a thick Italian accent. The other men readied themselves, their guns gleaming in the dimly lit room. 

I nodded and closed my eyes. I hoped it would be quick, that there would be no pain, just the eternal darkness welcoming me with open arms. 

I had never been religious, but in that moment I sent a silent prayer to whatever God was out there. Please, let this be quick. 

A phone rings, startling me. 

My eyes snap open, finding the large man clutching an Iphone to his ear speaking in quick Italian. The man nods his understanding before ending the phone call. 

"You have been summoned. Your death will have to wait, for now." 

I frown. No, no, this isn't how it was supposed to go. If I go with them, torture surely awaits me. I can handle a gunshot to the head, but torture was another story altogether. 

"I am not going anywhere with you." I say harshly, "You'll have to shoot me now." 

The large man tucks his gun into his belt, the other three following suit. 

"You will be coming with us." 

I stand abruptly. I'd throw myself out of the window if I had to. 

The large man seems to read this on my face for he bolts towards me before I can make another move. His arms are enclosed around me in an instant, the strength of him causing my feeble kicks to seem childlike. Like a kid having a tantrum. 

I scream, scratch, bite. Nothing works. 

I'm dragged down the hallway and out into the midnight air. A car sits patiently on the gravel, the back doors open and eager for me to be thrown inside. 

I'm tossed like a rag doll, my back hitting the soft leather on a thud. 

The door is slammed shut and the car roars off down the road, taking me to God knows where. 

My screams are drowned out by the intense opera music being blasted through the speakers. I slam my fists into the dark-tinted windows, I tug and tug on the handles, to no avail. 

I was being dragged to my demise and there was nothing I could do to stop it.