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Ignoring the trembling in my hands, I rushed to the window, my fingers fumbling with the curtain.
Pulling it back just enough to peek outside, I was met with a sight that sent my heart into a frantic rhythm.
In the courtyard below, shadows moved with lethal intent. Men in dark attire, barely distinguishable from the obsidian night, clashed in a fierce, chaotic ballet.
Matteo's loyal soldiers, their faces shrouded in determination, were locked in a brutal battle with faceless intruders, their forms obscured by darkness.
Weapons flashed ominously in the night, and muffled curses and grunts of exertion mingled with the night's chorus.
Questions flooded my mind. Who were these intruders? What had brought them to our doorstep? Why had the tranquility of the night been shattered so violently?
My thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind of worry and dread, my breaths coming rapidly.
Suddenly, my room was flooded with harsh, artificial light as the door was violently flung open.
My initial instinct was relief, assuming it was Matteo coming to rescue me from this waking nightmare.
However, as I turned to face the intruder, my relief evaporated into a chilling realization.
Before me stood a man whose features were unknown to me due to the black mask covering most of his face, leaving only his eyes, a sinister smile curling his lips.
He radiated a menacing aura that sent a shiver racing down my spine.
"You must be the girl the Don was talking about," he sneered.
Panic surged within me, my voice shaking with anger and fear. "Who the hell are you?!" I yelled, my hands trembling uncontrollably.
Ignoring my distress, he continued advancing, his grin growing more malevolent. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he taunted, "I just want to take you somewhere, somewhere where someone important is waiting for you."
My voice quivered as I stammered, "Who?"
The man's grin widened, revealing predatory intent that sent icy tendrils of dread creeping through my veins. "Francisco," he replied, his tone laced with sinister glee.
My blood ran cold at the mention of that name.
Fear clawed at my throat, and I screamed, my voice raw with terror, as he reached out to grab me, but just as his outstretched hand was mere inches from my trembling form, a deafening gunshot shattered the oppressive silence of my room.
A spray of crimson erupted from the intruder's head, painting the room in a grotesque tableau of red.
His lifeless body crumpled to the floor, his eyes staring vacantly into nothingness.
I gasped, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest and my limbs quaking with fear and adrenaline.
My gaze darted to the doorway, where Antonio stood, his features carved from stone, a smoking gun in his hand. His eyes met mine.
During the chaos and terror, the undeniable fact remained—I was seven months pregnant, and every heartbeat of this nightmarish ordeal threatened not only my life but the life of my unborn child.
"We have to go," He gestured urgently for me to follow him.
As I followed Antonio down the dimly lit corridor, the sounds of the battle outside grew louder, the desperate cries of Matteo's men mingling with the clash of steel and the discharge of firearms.
I couldn't help but wonder what had triggered this violent incursion into our lives, and the dread of the unknown hung heavy over me.
Matteo's once serene and elegant mansion had turned into a nightmare. The grandeur was tainted by the violent battle within its walls.
Dead bodies were strewn about, blood staining the opulent furnishings and marbled floors, creating a grim tableau of destruction.
As Antonio guided me through this harrowing scene, gun in hand, I couldn't help but shudder.
