AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Of course," she responds, gliding toward the refrigerator with grace. Her movements are deliberate, a reflection of the years we have spent working side by side, honing our craft and synchronizing our actions.
As I guide the piping bag, smoothly dispensing cream onto a freshly baked éclair, I revel in the sense of accomplishment that fills my heart. This bakery, this life that I have cultivated, is a testament to my resilience, to my ability to carve out a path separate from the sinister shadow cast by my uncle Claude's criminal empire.
Despite the inescapable connection to my family's past, I have forged my own destiny, infusing this haven of sweetness with authenticity and integrity. Here, within these walls, I have created a sanctuary untouched by the violence and darkness that taints my family name. The love and passion I pour into each creation are a counterbalance to the turbulent world outside.
In the soft morning light, as the kitchen hums with activity, I find solace and purpose. The melody of my own contented hum blends harmoniously with the symphony of sound that accompanies the birth of each delectable treat. Each croissant, each cake, each lovingly crafted piece is a testament to the light I have embraced within myself—a beacon of authenticity amidst the storm.
I glance up from my work for a brief moment to take a break when a flicker of movement beyond the window catches my attention. A chill snakes its way down my spine, sending a tremor through my entire being. My breath catches, and my hands, once steady and dexterous, betray me with a slight quiver. Outside, in the haze of early morning light, stands a figure obscured by shadows. In an instant, recognition dawns, striking me like a bolt of lightning.
We’re in danger.
A hooded man tilts his head and smiles.
A rush of adrenaline floods my veins, urging me to flee from the danger he represents. My heart pounds in my chest, its rhythm a frantic beat echoing the urgency in my mind. It's as if the predatory gaze that meets mine from beyond the glass threatens to consume me, shrouded in a darkness that seems to seep into my very pores,
I tear my gaze away, my mind racing with thoughts of escape. Turning to Marie, my trusted assistant, I press my lips together tightly, conveying a silent urgency. With a subtle nod toward the back of the bakery, I give her an unspoken command. "You need to call 911," I whisper urgently. "Scratch that, call my uncle first, okay?"
Concern furrows her brow, but she meets my gaze with unwavering support. "Of course, Lisette," she responds, her voice laced with determination. She doesn't question me, trusting my judgment implicitly. In that moment, I am grateful for her understanding and the unspoken bond that connects us.
I don’t know if this is a robbery or mob business, but I don’t want Marie caught in the crossfire. I send her running upstairs to my adjoining apartment.
Without another word, I leave my work behind, my heart pounding in my ears, a steady throb that underscores my fear. The urgency pulsating within me propels me toward the back of the bakery, guiding my steps into the sanctuary of the alleyway. If this is mafia business, they’ll be after me, not Marie. I need to lead them away. If she calls my uncle fast enough, whoever’s stupid enough to target me will wish they were never born.
It’s a pretty big ‘if.’
The cool air prickles my skin, heightening my senses. My breath comes in shallow gasps, each inhalation a struggle against the knot of apprehension tightening in my gut.
I grab my cell phone, texting my uncle. I can hear a man’s footsteps behind me, and I’m grateful Marie is safe.
But now I also know this is no robbery. I’m being targeted. I know whoever it is watching, waiting, his intentions concealed beneath a veil of uncertainty. But I refuse to be a mere pawn in the game he plays. It's time to face the darkness head-on, to confront the lingering shadows that have haunted my life for far too long.
I hold my keys tightly in my fist and turn.
"Show yourself," I call out, my voice steady despite the tremor coursing through my veins. And like a specter materializing from the shadows, he steps forward, his eyes locked on mine.
I struggle, scratching his face, but something sharp pricks my neck and everything fades.
***
MY EYES FLUTTER OPEN, awakening to an unfamiliar surrounding – a stark reminder of the treacherous territory I find myself in.
Marcel, a shadowy figure cloaked in malevolence, circles me like a predator, his eyes alight with a twisted delight. His voice drips with derision as he revels in the power he holds over me. "Ah, sleeping beauty awakes," he sneers, his words laced with sadistic pleasure. The dim light casts unsettling shadows across his face, accentuating the wickedness that emanates from his every pore. "You're going to make quite the bargaining chip against your dear Uncle Claude."
The Laurents' hideout, a place steeped in darkness and malice, is where I now awaken, imprisoned and at the mercy of Marcel Laurent, a man whose sadistic grin sends shivers down my spine.
My heart quivers, fluttering within my chest as my senses come alive to the acrid smell of fear that hangs heavy in the air. The weight of my predicament presses against me, amplified by the biting sting of the ropes that bind my wrists. I strain against the cruel restraints, my skin chafing against the unforgiving fibers, but the knots hold steadfast, cruelly digging into my flesh.
My spirit, though shaken, refuses to yield to his torment. My voice trembles, but my defiance remains unyielding.
"Go to hell," I spit, my words a defiant retort that slices through the suffocating atmosphere. In this moment of vulnerability, I summon the strength to face my captor head-on, refusing to let fear consume me.
A flicker of irritation flashes across Marcel's face, his eyes narrowing as he takes a menacing step closer. The dance of power and control continues, our words sharp and cutting, each spoken with a calculated purpose. I brace myself, prepared for whatever twisted game he plans to play, my spirit unyielding, holding onto a sliver of hope that flickers within the darkness.
Marcel's laugh resonates through the air, a chilling sound that seems to freeze everything in its wake. His amusement is devoid of mirth, a cruel melody that slices through the tension-laden atmosphere.
"Oh, sweet Lisette, don't you know? We're already there," he taunts with a sneer. He leans in, invading my personal space, his rancid breath assaulting my senses. "And if your uncle doesn't play ball, well... I'm sure he'll miss one of those pretty fingers of yours."
The rage inside threatens to consume me, a tempest of emotions that surges in my veins. But I steel myself, refusing to let my anger dictate my actions. I know I need to bide my time, to gather my strength and wait for the opportune moment to strike back.
