𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐞 || A Mafia Love Story

xxxvii

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Marlee stumbled forward, shoved into the cold, imposing room deep within the basement of the large building. The man's grip was tight and bruising, his rough hand clamped around her upper arm as if he could crush the bone beneath his fingers. She winced as he gave her one final shove, sending her crashing onto the hard concrete floor, its smooth surface offering no warmth.

"Stay quiet," he barked in Russian, his voice low and menacing, before turning and slamming the heavy door shut. The sound of it echoed like a death knell in the hollow room, vibrating through her bones.

Marlee's breath came in shallow, panicked gasps as she slowly sat up. The pain in her body was a dull ache compared to the ice-cold fear crawling up her spine, suffocating her with every breath. Her hands shook uncontrollably, both from the freezing temperature of the room and the terror gnawing at her insides. She hugged herself, desperately trying to ward off the cold seeping into her skin, but it was no use. The chill was inescapable, biting and relentless.

The men outside the door muttered in Russian, their voices hushed and conspiratorial, but Marlee couldn't focus on them. All she could think about was the iron grip of the man who had dragged her here, his fingers digging into her flesh, and the bruises that would bloom on her skin like dark, ugly flowers by morning.

She shifted slightly, her movement slow and tentative, and something caught her attention. There—just out of the corner of her eye, a flicker of movement.

"Nonna?"

Her heart slammed in her chest, hope momentarily breaking through the crushing fear as she recognized the familiar figure slumped against the far wall of the room. Her grandmother sat there, leaning back with her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

"Nonna!" Marlee scrambled to her feet, the pain in her legs forgotten as she rushed to her grandmother's side. She dropped to her knees, her hands hovering over the older woman, unsure where to touch, afraid of causing her more pain. Her pulse hammered in her ears as she scanned her grandmother's face, her pale skin and labored breathing sending a jolt of panic through her.

"Nonna, please," she whispered, her voice trembling as she brushed a strand of silver hair from her grandmother's forehead. "Can you hear me? Please, wake up."

Her grandmother stirred, her eyelids fluttering open, but her gaze was unfocused, distant. "Marlee?" she croaked, her voice weak, barely audible.

Marlee bit her lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Yes, it's me. I'm here." She forced her voice to remain steady, even though her heart was breaking. Her grandmother's breathing was too labored, too shallow. It had been over a day without her medication—too long. Far too long.

"Where... where are we?" her grandmother rasped, confusion clouding her voice.

"I don't know," Marlee said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I'll get us out of here. I swear I will." The words felt hollow, but she said them anyway, desperate to give her grandmother something, anything, to hold on to.

She flinched at the sound of footsteps approaching, heavy and deliberate, their echo bouncing off the walls outside the room. The voices that had been low and muffled grew louder, more animated. Her stomach twisted in knots, fear sharpening her senses as the footsteps stopped right outside the door.

Marlee tensed, her breath hitching as the doorknob rattled slightly. Her eyes locked on the door, her heart pounding in her chest so hard she thought it might burst. The handle turned slowly, agonizingly slow, until the door creaked open just enough for her to see the shadow of a figure standing in the dim hallway.