The grandeur of the hotel's corridor is momentarily disrupted by the resonant timbre of my father's voice. "Ready son?" he calls out from outside the hotel room's door.
A simple nod serves as my response, and with that, the door swings open to commence the orchestrated display. Eyes turn towards us as my father and I move in unison, exuding an aura of authority and wealth. The French doors are opened with precision as we approach, creating a path through the crowd.
Despite the feigned nonchalance, I sense the collective gaze of the onlookers, their curiosity palpable. I navigate through the crowd, maintaining my stoic composure while absorbing the silent scrutiny.
Our destination is Mr. Ricci, a business partner whose motives I've learned to view with skepticism. As we exchange pleasantries, the undertones of ulterior motives play beneath the surface. Mr. Ricci's persistent attempts to arrange a marriage between me and his daughter betray a lack of understanding of my character.
The ambiance shifts as my father and Mr. Ricci engage in conversation, the room's occupants observing the interaction. My scrutiny of the surroundings intensifies, a habit born out of necessity. The anticipation of potential threats is a constant undercurrent.
The event takes an unexpected turn when the loaded words "Wrong move, Caro Ricci" resonate in the air. The tension escalates, and my father detects irregularities in the champagne glasses. A wave of alarm courses through the room, and my eyes catch the anomaly.
Suddenly, gunfire disrupts the apparent decorum, and we seek refuge behind a pillar. The room transforms into a chaotic scene, a battleground of calculated moves and strategic shots. I draw my weapon, each bullet finding its mark with ruthless precision, the assailants falling like chess pieces.
In the midst of the skirmish, Cruz, my bodyguard, emerges with a smirk that doesn't escape my notice. The chaos intensifies as Mario, Mr. Ricci's son, enters the fray. I motion for him to approach, a precursor to the confrontation.
The confrontation unfolds in a whirlwind of calculated moves. Blows are evaded with practiced finesse, bullets find their mark, and adversaries fall. Amidst the orchestrated chaos, a gunshot pierces the air, and I feel the impact on my side.
The tide momentarily turns as Mario and a third assailant gain an upper hand. Despite the blows, I resist, the struggle intensifying. As the assailants fall, I retrieve a concealed gun, the final confrontation with Mario looming.
The room reverberates with gunfire as I retaliate, the bullets creating a staccato symphony of violence. A final bullet finds its mark, and Mario crumples, blood staining his chest. The room is left with the haunting silence of the aftermath.
In the stormy night, I commandeer a car, my side throbbing with pain. Unable to drive any longer, I pull over, raindrops obscuring my vision. I step out of the car and stand in the middle of the road, the rain a cleansing force against the chaos.
Praying for salvation, a car approaches. The door opens, and a girl steps out. My plea for help is barely audible as she rushes to my side, concern etched on her face. The world begins to fade into darkness, her efforts to tend to my wounds becoming a distant echo.Her voice, a lifeline in the encroaching void, guides me through moments of lucidity. Eventually,the world dissolves into blackness, and I surrender to the embrace of oblivion.
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it felt necessary :) made it shorter tho
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Breathless ✓
RomanceVictoria Forbes, a young aspiring doctor, trudges through yet another ordinary day-a recurring pattern in her life for the past few monotonous years. However, on this stormy night, the echoes of routine are shattered when an unexpected encounter awa...
