Don't Mess with A Mafia Princess

As Frankie barked out orders, a cruel smirk played on his lips. "Scar her face. Let's see if she still dares to call herself the don's daughter after that!"

A couple of thugs moved toward me with wicked grins, one flipping open a switchblade that gleamed ominously under the dim ceiling light. My hands and feet were tightly bound, the rough rope biting into my skin. Panic surged through me, my breathing quick and shallow as I struggled in vain to free myself. The scent of stale alcohol and cheap cologne from the men around me made my stomach churn.

"I really am Giovanni's daughter!" I shrieked, my voice hoarse with desperation. "If you dare lay a finger on me, he won't let you go!"

The tension in the room was palpable, but my words only seemed to amuse them. With a menacing chuckle, one of them yanked at my dress, tearing the fabric with a loud rip. A cold draft hit my exposed skin and a wave of despair washed over me.

"How dare you fool us? You'd better start praying, though I doubt it'll do you any good!" Frankie sneered, clearly enjoying my helplessness.

Tears pricked at my eyes, but I forced them back. I couldn't show weakness. Just as I braced myself for whatever horror they had planned, a loud knock echoed through the room.

"Boss! The don is here!" someone shouted from outside. "He said he's picking a private room for a birthday party and is looking for you!"

Frankie's expression changed instantly, lighting up with a mix of excitement and respect. "The don? Really? This must be for the missus then!"

He turned to his men, his earlier malice replaced by urgency. "Get rid of this wench quickly! Don't let the don see her and ruin his mood!"

I barely had time to process what was happening before several of the thugs grabbed me. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as they wrapped a dirty cloth around my head, blocking my vision. My breaths came in short gasps, the fabric pressing against my nose and mouth making it harder to breathe.

With rough hands gripping my arms, they began dragging me out of the room. I knew this was my only chance. If I didn't act now, I might never get another opportunity. Desperation gave me courage and summoning every ounce of strength I had, I lashed out blindly with my foot.

My kick landed squarely on one of the thugs' crotch. He let out a strangled groan, immediately releasing his grip on me. Seizing the brief moment of freedom, I stumbled forward, tearing the cloth from my face and running as fast as I could.

The hallway stretched out before me, dimly lit by flickering overhead lights. I had no idea where I was going, my mind racing in a frenzy of fear and adrenaline.

"Get her!" someone roared behind me, heavy footsteps pounding against the floor as they gave chase.

I spotted a staircase at the end of the hall and dashed toward it, my heart thudding in my chest. But as I reached the top step, my foot caught on the edge of the carpet. Time seemed to slow as I lost my balance, tumbling down the stairs.

Pain exploded through my body as I hit each step, my vision blurring with each impact. By the time I reached the bottom, I was dazed and disoriented, struggling to even lift my head.

Before I could gather my senses, a heavy blow struck the back of my head, sending fresh waves of dizziness through me. "You little bitch! Dare to kick me? I'll beat you to death!" a furious voice snarled.

Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, but just before I lost consciousness, I caught a fleeting glimpse of a familiar figure at the end of the hallway—broad shoulders, a commanding presence. Was it... my dad?

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged by my arms across a cold, tiled floor. I tried to resist, but my limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. My head throbbed painfully and my vision swam in and out of focus.

When I finally came to, I was tied up in a dimly lit storage room. The faint smell of dust and mildew hung in the air, mingling with the metallic scent of old, rusted tools scattered around. Tape covered my mouth, muffling my breathing. I glanced down at myself and breathed a small sigh of relief—my clothes were intact. They hadn't done anything to me.

Could it be that they were too busy to greet my dad? If my dad was still here, then there was still hope!

Wasting no time, I quickly shuffled over to a corner, the rough floor scraping against my knees. Desperation fueled my movements as I began rubbing the ropes around my wrists against the jagged edge of a broken shelf. The fibers bit into my skin, but I ignored the pain, focusing solely on getting free.

Just then, faint voices filtered in from outside the door. I froze, straining to hear the conversation.

"Did you get the money yet? Hurry up and give me my share!" a familiar voice hissed.

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. Vincent.

"You've got some nerve!" another man snapped irritably. "That girl only has a hundred thousand in her account. Pretending to be the don's daughter? She's got a death wish! But I gotta admit, she's pretty good-looking."

"Check her bag for anything valuable," the man continued. "I'll sneak in for some fun with that bitch. When I'm done, I'll give you your share!"

A tense silence followed, broken only by Vincent's disgusted reply. "Be my guest. I don't want any part of it. That little bitch wouldn't even let me touch her, acting all high and mighty. Turns out she's someone else's mistress, huh?"

"But she must have money," he added. "She drives a car worth over a hundred and fifty grand. How could she not afford a hundred thousand dollars?"

I clenched my jaw, fury and heartbreak warring within me. I had thought Vincent was being coerced into betraying me. But this—this was the real him. The man I'd trusted, the man I'd planned to introduce to my family, had sold me out for cash.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I forced them back. I couldn't afford to break down now. Just as the last of the rope came loose, I heard the metallic click of the door lock turning.

My pulse spiked as I frantically scanned the room. The windows were sealed shut—there was no escape. Clutching the frayed rope in my trembling hands, I darted toward the wall, leaning against it as though I had just woken up.