Falling for Deceit || WATTYS 2017

Prologue

Copyright 2017 - Sophia Kjeldbjerg. All rights reserved.

1904's wintery landscape in New York in the middle of the night had been the perfect moment for a kidnapping. The man thundered down the narrow, dark alley, his steps echoing on the slick pavement beneath him. The toddler wailed in his arms. "Cazzo," he hissed, forcing his glove-covered hand down over its gaping mouth. The sound of two pairs of footsteps stalking him around the corner made him press harder. He felt the biting frost of the wind on his face, but he kept racing, sensing the bull's eye on his back. A gunshot went off and hit the side of a container, bouncing back against the wall beside him. He cursed again and willed his damn legs to get a move on, knowing that if he stopped, he would be murdered for treason. Against one of the most powerful Mafia families on the East Coast. 

His hand slid off the toddler's face, and before he could react she cried even louder, wriggling around in his grasp like a worm. "Porco cane," he cursed again, pressing her face into the lapels of his trench coat. The winter air slapped at his skin, flattening his clothes against his body as he continued his escape. Already, his lungs were burning and begging to be relieved, but he kept going, panic momentarily making an apparition when the sounds of yells and deep voices grew louder and much, much closer. This was it, he thought. There were two of them, and he was going to die. Another gunshot went off and he felt its course whizz straight past his jacket. He could already see the perfect circle in the material. That shape will surely be on his back soon. As the street grew narrower and became littered with more garbage and the unquestionable scent of piss and death, a glow was lit in one of the windows up ahead. It was a rotting tenement building, and soon, a young woman leaned out, staring down at the street with wide eyes. He waved to get her attention just as another gunshot echoed past him. The woman disappeared as he lunged to the side, throwing himself into the shadows behind a trash container right beside the front door of the building. The door swung wide open right after, and the woman poked her head out, stilling with shock when she saw him standing there. He knew then and there that he had to get rid of this toddler, no matter what he had to say. Even if it meant lying. His life was more important. The footsteps were nearer now, pounding down the road of the street that would eventually turn and give away to this one. He swallowed and held out the toddler towards the woman. She looked down at the moving bundle in his hands and gulped nervously, confusion lacing her features. This was one of the poorest districts in New York, but surely she would not leave a defenseless out here to die? If she didn't take it, he would set it down on the ground and be gone anyway. 

"Per favore prenda lei," he began, but then he realized that she might well not be Italian like him. "Take her, please." 

"Madonna Santa..." the woman murmured, surprising him. So she was, after all. Then, she looked past him and her eyes widened with fear. The men were coming, and he knew that she heard it. When she looked back at him she must have seen the desperate urgency in his features, because without waiting another second she took the moaning toddler from him and cradled her in her thin arms. The shot came out loud and clear, the sound reverberating throughout the otherwise silent alley. The woman raised her hand to cover her mouth with horror just as he felt the white-hot agony sear through his leg. Before he could react she'd run back into the building and slammed the door, the toddler disappearing with her. He fell to the side as his right leg gave in under him, and then his knees buckled. He plummetted to the ground with a pained cry and grasped his leg, cradling it. When he peeled his eyes open torturously slow, he saw the two, dark shadows looming over him with sickly satisfied grins on their smooth faces. The glint in their eyes was that of a killer's. "You cannot run from the Cosa Nostra," one of them grit out in fluent Italian. The victim barely managed to catch a glimpse of the unsheathing of a knife as its tip caught the silver light in the winter moon. He knew not to beg. That would only make his torture slower. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled onto his back. Then, he opened them again and leveled a harsh stare on both of them as they crouched down beside him, even though the agony was licking up every trace of self-control in his chilling body. He could feel the warm, thick blood pouring out of the wound, and wondered if they would simply let him bleed out. Of course not, he thought grimly. But then, he managed a satisfied smile. Their eyes narrowed at his display of bravado, and the tip of the knife pressed down into his arm. He yelled out in pain, and when it was done, he looked back at them. The smile reappeared darkly. 

"It is too late, miei cari amici," he muttered, groaning as his right leg spasmed. They shared a long look before leaning down towards him again. He felt the blood rise in his throat and could imagine it staining his teeth in crimson and black. "I have honored my agreement with Don Beretti. The girl is gone." At that, the men's features transformed into those of furious beasts, and they roughly gripped his underarms, hoisting him up from the ground with measured strength. He would surely be tortured excruciatingly until the last thread of life slipped out of his eyes for this act, but he would never tell them anything. This he vowed. His crazed laugh echoed throughout the street as he was dragged towards his fatal end. 

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Copyright 2017 - Sophia Kjeldbjerg. All rights reserved.

No part of this story may be copied, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted to anyone. It cannot be transmitted or copied by any means - such as by electronic devices, photocopies, recordings, mechanicals or any other forms - without prior written permission from the author. Copying this story is a violation of the copyright law.

DISCLAIMER

I AM NOT FLUENT IN ITALIAN. I am also not the master of writing the different accents perfectly. Therefore, mistakes will be made. Please don't be offended. Instead of leaving negative comments, please correct me. It'll be of great help. Also, I usually write in British English, so if I get any American terms, again, please correct me kindly in the comment section. This is a MATURE STORY. If you are uncomfortable with such content, then refrain from reading and DON'T COMPLAIN IN THE COMMENTS THAT YOUR INNOCENCE WAS VIOLATED or whatever. You have been warned.

PLEASE COMMENT YOUR THOUGHTS, VOTE AND SHARE WITH YOUR FRIENDS IF YOU LIKED IT =) It helps me tremendously! I'll publish the first chapter soon! 

-xoxo, Sophia.