My king-Lestappen

6. The princes Hope

Prince Charles sat in the cold, dark room, his hands tied behind his back. The sound of his own breathing was the only noise he heard. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his breathing became erratic. He was scared, but he knew he couldn't show it.

A few moments later, the door creaked open, and a group of masked men entered the room. Charles tried to meet their gazes with defiance, but his mind was racing with fear and uncertainty.

"We have a message for your father," said the leader of the group. He was tall and muscular, with a thick beard and a menacing look in his eyes.

Despite his fear, Charles managed to nod calmly, keeping his voice steady as he spoke. "What do you want?"

"We want your father to pay for his crimes against our people," the man said.

Charles wasn't quite sure what they were talking about. He had heard rumors of unrest in the country, but as a member of the royal family, he had always been shielded from the gritty reality of politics.

"I don't understand," Charles said.

The leader of the group chuckled. "Of course, you don't. You've always been sheltered, haven't you? But let's just say your father has made some deals that didn't benefit our people."

Charles's heart sank. He had always known that being part of a royal family came with its own set of risks, but he had never expected his own life to be in danger.

"What do you plan to do with me?" Charles asked, trying to keep his tone calm.

"For now, you're our bargaining chip," the leader said. "We'll make sure your father knows we're serious. And perhaps, if he cooperates, we might let you go unharmed. But if he doesn't, well, let's just say we have other ways of making him see reason."

Charles's heart raced as the group of men left the room, leaving him alone in the darkness once again. He tried to calm himself down, knowing that he needed to keep a clear head if he was ever going to make it out of here alive.

As the hours ticked by, Charles spent his time trying to come up with a plan. He didn't know where he was or who these people were. But he knew that to survive, he needed to be ready for anything.

But as he lay there in the darkness, his mind racing, he began to realize more and more just how helpless he truly was. He was at the mercy of his captors, with no guarantee of survival or rescue.

Despite everything, Charles resolved to stay strong. He knew that his family, his country, and his position were counting on him, and he knew he had to do everything in his power to stay alive. He clung to the hope that his trusted bodyguard, Max, would come to rescue him.

"Please, Max," he whispered to himself. "Find me. Save me."

But as the hours dragged on, Charles began to lose hope. He was alone in the dark, with no way of knowing if anyone was even coming for him.

And yet, despite everything, he refused to give up. He would keep fighting, no matter what. Because that's what a prince was supposed to do: stay strong, no matter what the circumstances.

The door creaked open once again, and this time, it was only one of the masked men who entered the room.

Charles stared at him warily, trying to read his expression through the mask. "What do you want?"

"We want you to understand our pain," the man said. "We're not monsters, we're just people who have been pushed too far."

Charles hesitated for a moment, wondering if there was any possibility of getting through to this man. But he quickly dismissed the thought – he knew that these people had already shown themselves to be capable of violence and cruelty.

"I understand that you're angry," Charles said. "But this is not the way to solve your problems. You're only hurting innocent people, like myself."

The man gave him a cold smile. "You and your family are not innocent, Your Highness. You've turned a blind eye to the suffering of our people for too long. It's time for you to pay the price."

Charles felt a chill run down his spine as the man stepped closer to him, reaching out to touch his face with a gloved hand.

"Please," Charles said, his voice shaking. "I...I don't want to die."

"Now you understand," the man said, his grip tightening on Charles's face. "But it's too late. Your father must learn that his actions have consequences, and that he cannot continue to ignore the cries of the people."

Charles felt a surge of panic as the man drew a knife from his belt. He struggled against his bonds, but it was no use – he was completely at the man's mercy.

"You're not going to kill me," Charles said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're better than this. You don't have to be a killer."

The man hesitated for a moment, his hand still gripping the knife. Charles's words seemed to have had an effect on him, and for a moment, he wavered in his resolve. But then, a loud explosion shook the building, and the man's attention was drawn away from Charles.

"What's happening?" Charles asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

The man turned to him, a look of frustration on his face. "It's one of our comrades outside. He's triggered a bomb. I have to go and help him."

Without another word, the man left the room, leaving Charles alone and bewildered. He didn't know what was happening or who was responsible, but he knew one thing for sure – he had to find a way to escape and get back to his family. He struggled against his bonds, but they held fast.

As he lay there, helpless and alone, he couldn't help but wonder what his future held. Would he ever be reunited with his loved ones, or was this the end for him? Only time would tell.

A/N: Who do you think is going to win at Monza?