Guns 'n Roses

Chapter 39 Ambush

    When I regained consciousness, I was in the back of a van, my hands bound and my head throbbing. The pain in my leg was a dull ache, but the sharp pain in my head was far worse. I tried to move, but the restraints were tight.

The van bounced along a rough road, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional murmur of my captors. I forced myself to stay calm, to focus on my breathing. I had to stay alert, to find a way out of this.

I strained to hear the conversation between the men up front. Their voices were low, but I caught snippets of their discussion. 

     "... Damien... wasn't supposed to go down like this..."

I froze, my heart racing. Damien? My stepdad? What did he have to do with this?

     "Yeah, well, he said to get the girl. Didn't mention a full-blown shootout," another voice grumbled.

Damien. The name sent a shiver down my spine. My stepdad had always been a shadowy figure in my life, his involvement in various illicit activities an open secret. But this? Was he behind my kidnapping?

      "Orders are orders," the first voice said. "We get her to the location, and he'll handle the rest."

I struggled against my bonds, anger and fear warring within me. Why would Damien do this? What could he possibly gain from it?

The van jerked to a stop, and the doors swung open. Harsh light flooded the interior, blinding me temporarily. Rough hands grabbed me, pulling me out and setting me on my feet. My leg buckled, and I bit back a cry of pain.

      "Move," one of the men barked, shoving me forward.

I stumbled, but managed to keep my balance. We were in a secluded warehouse, the kind of place where no one would hear you scream. My heart pounded in my chest as they dragged me inside.

I scanned the area, looking for any possible escape routes. The warehouse was dimly lit, with stacks of crates and barrels providing plenty of hiding spots. But with my hands bound and my leg injured, running wasn't an option.

They led me to a small office in the back of the warehouse. Inside, a tall man with cold eyes and a scar running down his cheek stood waiting. He looked me over with a sneer, clearly unimpressed.

    "Welcome, Kylie," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Your stepfather sends his regards."

I glared at him, refusing to show any fear. "What does Damien want with me?"

The man chuckled. "That's for him to explain. All I know is, you're a valuable bargaining chip."

Bargaining chip? My mind raced. What could Damien possibly want that he would use me as leverage? I had to find out, and more importantly, I had to find a way to escape.

The man nodded to the others. "Lock her up. Damien will be here soon."

They dragged me to a small, windowless room and shoved me inside. The door slammed shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place echoing in the silence. I sank to the floor, my mind racing.

I had to stay strong, to find a way out of this mess. D'Angelo would be looking for me, I was sure of it. But until he found me, I had to rely on my own wits and strength.

I listened at the door, straining to hear any more information. The voices were muffled, but I could still catch snippets of their conversation.

     "... Damien... something big... can't let her escape..."

Fear gnawed at me, but I pushed it aside. I needed to focus, to be ready for whatever came next. And when Damien arrived, I would get answers—one way or another. 

Everyone was being secretive. Minutes turned into hours, and hours into days. I’ve lost track of time, and it feels like an eternity since I was thrown into this cell. They haven’t laid a hand on me since, just bringing water and a PB&J sandwich every day. I only eat once a day, but it still leaves me weak and hungry. My leg wound is scabbing over, but I can see the infection building underneath.

The door creaked open, and a man stepped in with the usual snack. I couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

I snatched the food from his hand as he turned to leave.

"Hey!" I shouted, trying to get his attention.

He paused but didn’t turn around.

"What’s happening out there? What are you going to do with me?"

"All in good time, sweetheart. Don’t worry too much," he said before stepping out and closing the door behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.

*What’s new?* I thought bitterly. *They probably want me dead or something. This is the mafia, after all.*

I ate my sandwich and chugged the bottle of water, deciding to do some exercises so my muscles wouldn’t deteriorate completely. I was too weak to do much, just a few sit-ups and jogging in place until exhaustion took over again.

The next day, the cell door opened, and the devil himself walked in.

"Hey, baby girl, it’s time to catch up," he sneered, his smile sickening.

"Damien," I replied coldly.

"Oh, don’t be like that now... don’t you miss good ol’ pops?" he taunted, stepping closer.

"You’re not my father and never will be, you pig," I spat, meeting his gaze with defiance.

He sighed, almost disappointed. "Of all the people you could whore yourself out to, you chose someone in the Genovese clan. Really?"

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Maybe I should punish you like old times. Teach you a lesson about disobedience. What do you say?"

"Go suck yuh madda," I shot back.

His face went slack with rage. "You brought this on yourself."