Mafia's Pet

The next morning, Aria woke up with a plan.

No dreams. No tears. Just a sharp, cold focus.

She was done staring at walls.

She was done playing dress-up for a psychopath.

She opened the wardrobe , and her jaw almost dropped. Every shelf, every hanger, every drawer… full. Dresses, lingerie, casual wear, sleepwear ,all new. All her size.

Creep.

She grabbed the most casual outfit she could find , a white tank top and fitted shorts. Tied her hair in a sleek ponytail. Ate her breakfast quickly, silently, and for the first time... without guilt.

She was only going to miss the food. That was it.

Then she moved.

Quietly.

Fast.

She made her way toward the kitchen ,casual, like she was just roaming again. The staff barely looked at her. One or two gave her polite nods.

But Aria? She had one mission.

As soon as she stepped into the kitchen and spotted the chef's station, she grabbed a clean steak knife ,long, sharp, light enough to move with , and shoved it under her shirt, slipping it sideways into her bra strap where it wouldn't poke her ribs.

She walked out calmly.

Back straight.

Heart pounding.

Okay. Okay. You got this.

Outside, the air was thick and warm. The sun was, too bright for what she was about to do.

The gate was far ,but not impossible.

Two guards stood lazily by the east path. One had a radio. The other was scrolling through his phone.

She moved like she was just walking , slow, bored.

Then sprinted.

"Ehi! Ferma lì!" one of the guards yelled.

(Hey! Stop right there!)

"No, tu stai zitto!" she shouted back, already running faster.

(No, you shut up!)

Alarms didn't go off ,but men started yelling behind her.

She ducked between a hedge and the fountain, nearly twisted her ankle, and yanked the knife out.

One man reached for her , slash! ,she waved the blade wildly, not close enough to cut but enough to make him jump back.

"Vi ucciderò tutti!" she screamed.

(I'll kill you all!)

The chaos was real now.

Another man ran from the garden side she spun, screamed, and pointed the knife like she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Indietro! Sono pazza, capito?!"

(Back off! I'm crazy, got it?!)

Her voice cracked but her eyes didn't.

She pushed past them, adrenaline taking over, nearly tripping on the gravel.

She made it within ten feet of the gate saw the street on the other side freedom, almost there

And then...

BAM.

A blow to her side knocked the air from her lungs.

She fell hard, knife flying from her hand.

Two guards pinned her down roughly, yelling in Italian. She kicked, screamed, thrashed like a wild animal, until someone grabbed her by the arms and slammed her to the ground.

"Fermati, bastarda!"

(Stop, you bitch!)

Her cheek hit the dirt.

She spit.

"Lasciatemi andare! Non sono una di voi!"

(Let me go! I'm not one of you!)

They grabbed her arms and legs, carried her like dead weight.

She screamed until her voice cracked.

Cursed until her throat burned.

Back inside the mansion, the guards threw her onto the floor of the entrance hall.

Blood trickled from her elbow.

She lay there, panting, chest rising and falling violently.

And then she started laughing.

Bitter. Exhausted. Unhinged.

She almost made it.

They dragged her back inside like a criminal.

Her hair was a mess. Her knees were scraped from falling. There was a bruise on her arm where one of the guards had grabbed her too hard. Marcus, Dante's right-hand man, just stood by the doorway, arms crossed, watching her like she'd completely lost her mind.

He didn't say much. Just pulled out his phone and muttered, "She tried to escape again."

Ten minutes later, she was shoved into her room. The door slammed shut and the lock clicked. Aria stood in the center of the room, breathless, shaking, her heart still racing from the chase.

She sat on the floor for a second.

She could barely move. Her body ached. But her mind… her mind was already working again.

She looked up slowly at the window. It was high, but not impossible. The lock was old. There was a tree a few feet away on the outside. She could do it.

She wasn't giving up.

Not now.

Not ever.

This time, she didn't rush. She wiped her face, straightened her clothes, and took off her sandals to move quietly. She dragged a chair under the window. Climbing up was hard. Her legs trembled, but she pushed through the pain.

She used her elbow to force the small latch open. It clicked.

She squeezed herself through the window, slowly, carefully, then climbed onto the thin ledge. Her heart pounded again. The drop wasn't small, but the tree was right there. She could jump.

She did.

It wasn't graceful. She hit the branch hard, slid down, scraped her arms, but she landed on the ground.

Free again.

And this time, no screaming. No knife. No chaos.

Just running.

She ran through the back edge of the estate, past the open garden space, into the trees. She saw a small dirt road that led out of the property line.

She ran like her life depended on it.

Because it did.

Her chest was tight, her feet hurt, and her arms were bleeding from the branch. But she didn't care. She saw the main road up ahead.

Then she heard a car.

She slowed just a little, thinking she might flag someone down ... maybe it was a stranger. Maybe this time, she could really get help.

The black SUV pulled up next to her.

She froze.

The back window slowly rolled down.

Dante.

Seated in the back, wearing a dark grey suit, one hand holding a glass of something brown. Calm. Clean. Unbothered.

She stared at him in disbelief.

He looked at her the same way someone would look at a child caught stealing from the kitchen.

She backed up instantly, turned, and started running again.

Before she got far, voices shouted from behind the trees. His men had already been following her. They rushed at her from both sides.

She screamed.

She fought with everything she had, kicking, clawing, even biting one of them. But she was outnumbered and too weak.

They pinned her to the ground.

"Let me go!" she cried out, voice cracking. "I hate you! I hate all of you!"

She screamed so hard it turned into coughing. Her arms were held down. Her legs too. She was crying now, angry tears, wild ones.

Dante stepped out of the SUV slowly. He adjusted the sleeve of his jacket, buttoned the front. He walked up to her as the men lifted her from the dirt and held her up.

He stopped in front of her, eyes calm.

"You're never leaving," he said, voice low and cold. "Accept it. You're mine."

Aria looked up at him, face covered in tears, dirt, and blood from her elbow.

"I hate you," she cried, voice raw. "You've ruined my life completely."

Dante looked at her for a long time. His jaw clenched slightly. But he didn't yell.

He just stepped closer and stared at her like he was looking at something he refused to lose.

"Get her inside," he said.

They dragged her away.

She didn't stop screaming until she had no voice left.