Mafia's Surrogate Bride Chapter 61

Aria’s POV

The first thing I became aware of was the pain.

My wrists burned with a raw, stinging sensation that cut through the fog in my mind like a blade. The rope binding them was coarse and unforgiving, biting into my skin with every slight movement. My mouth felt dry and cottony, sealed shut by what I assumed was tape that pulled uncomfortably at my skin.

Where am I?

The question crashed through my consciousness as awareness returned in jagged fragments. The last thing I remembered was walking down that service corridor, looking for Damian, and then... nothing. Just darkness and the acrid smell of chemicals that had overwhelmed my senses.

I forced my eyes open, blinking against the dim light that filtered through grimy windows. The space around me was cavernous and abandoned—a warehouse of some kind, with high ceilings and concrete floors stained with years of neglect. Broken machinery sat in rusted heaps along the walls, and the air carried the musty scent of decay and disuse.

Through the cracked glass of the windows, I could see nothing but empty lots and distant hills. We were far from the city, far from civilization, far from anyone who might hear me scream.

Terror crashed over me like ice water, immediate and overwhelming. My heart hammered against my ribs as the full scope of my situation became clear. I was tied to a metal chair in what appeared to be an abandoned industrial building, miles from anywhere, with no idea how long I'd been unconscious or how I'd gotten here.

Adriana.

The memory of her satisfied smile as the chemical-soaked cloth covered my face came flooding back. Her voice, cold and triumphant: "This is what happens to girls who steal what belongs to me."

I tried to call out, to make any sound that might attract attention, but the tape over my mouth muffled everything to a pathetic whimper. I strained against the ropes binding my hands behind the chair, but succeeded only in making the rough fibers dig deeper into my already raw skin.

How could I have been so stupid?

I should have known better than to trust that message, should have questioned why Damian would ask me to meet him in some isolated corridor instead of simply finding me in the ballroom. But I'd been so concerned about obeying his orders, so afraid of the consequences of disobedience, that I'd walked straight into Adriana's trap.

Does anyone even know I'm missing yet?

The gala had been crowded, full of people who wouldn't have noticed one missing person among hundreds. Damian had been occupied with family politics and business conversations. For all I knew, he might assume I'd simply gotten overwhelmed and left early, too much of a coward to face the sophisticated world he'd thrust me into.

The thought of his potential indifference sent a different kind of pain through my chest. Even after everything—the shopping, the styling, the way he'd looked at me in that white dress—I was still just a contract to him. A business arrangement that could be replaced if it became too troublesome.

But today was my birthday.

Twenty-one years old today, and instead of celebrating with Jessica and Sofia, instead of marking this milestone with people who truly cared about me, I was tied up in an abandoned warehouse, probably about to die at the hands of a jealous sociopath.

Tears began to leak from the corners of my eyes, partly from fear but mostly from the overwhelming injustice of it all. Jessica was finally healthy, finally had a future ahead of her, and I was going to disappear without even saying goodbye.

I was so close. So close to having enough money to start over, to build a real life for both of us.

The sound of footsteps on concrete made me freeze, every muscle in my body going rigid with terror. Heavy boots approached from somewhere in the darkness beyond the broken machinery, each step echoing ominously in the cavernous space.

Three men emerged from the shadows, and my blood turned to ice at the sight of them. They looked like the kind of people who solved problems with violence—thick-set, scarred, with cold eyes that held no trace of mercy or hesitation. These weren't confused intermediaries or reluctant participants. These were killers.

"Look who's finally awake," one of them said, his voice carrying a thick accent that I couldn't immediately place. He pulled out a cell phone and glanced at the screen with casual indifference. "Boss said to wait for her call before we do anything permanent."

Boss. Adriana.

The confirmation that she was behind this sent fresh waves of terror through me. This wasn't some crime of passion or momentary jealousy. This was calculated, planned, orchestrated by someone who'd smiled sweetly while plotting my death.

"She's pretty enough," the second man observed with the detached interest of someone evaluating livestock. "Seems like a waste."

"Orders are orders," the first man replied. "The Montrosso princess wants her gone, she gets gone. Simple as that. Can't have some nobody getting ideas above her station."

The third man, who'd been silent until now, spoke up with a voice like gravel. "How long do we wait? It's getting late, and this place isn't exactly secure."

"As long as it takes," the first man snapped. "You want to explain to the princess why we didn't follow her instructions to the letter?"

The casual way they discussed my impending death made my stomach turn. To them, I was just another job, another problem to be eliminated with the same efficiency they might use to dispose of any other unwanted obstacle.

I'm going to die here.

The knowledge settled into my bones with terrible certainty. There would be no last-minute rescue, no miraculous escape. I was going to disappear into the Italian countryside like countless other people who'd crossed the wrong families, and no one would ever know what happened to me.

Jessica.

My heart broke thinking of her waiting in that hospital room, expecting me to visit tomorrow with stories about the grand gala I'd attended. She'd wait and wait, calling my phone that would never be answered, asking questions that would never receive honest responses.

Sofia.

My best friend would search for me, I knew. She'd demand answers from anyone who would listen, would probably storm into the Cavalieri estate herself if necessary. But what could she do against families that commanded armies of killers? What chance did one woman from the slums have against the combined power of Italy's criminal elite?

I closed my eyes and tried to picture their faces one last time, tried to hold onto the memory of Jessica's laughter and Sofia's fierce loyalty. If these were going to be my final moments, I wanted to spend them thinking about the people who'd made my life worth living, however brief it had been.

The first man's phone buzzed, and he answered it immediately.

"Yes, ma'am... Understood... Yes, we have her... Let this be a lesson to anyone else who thinks they can take what doesn't belong to them."

He hung up and looked at his companions with grim satisfaction. "Time to finish this. Make it quick and clean, then get rid of the body where no one will ever find it."

This is it. This is how I die.

I thought of the white dress hanging in Damian's closet, of the diamond earrings that had made me feel beautiful for one perfect evening. I thought of the way Antonio had smiled at me in that bakery, as if I was someone worth protecting. I thought of all the birthdays I'd never have, all the moments with Jessica and Sofia that would exist only in memory.

At least they'll be safe. At least whatever happens to me won't touch them.

One of the men moved toward me, something metallic glinting in his hand. I forced myself to keep my eyes open, to face whatever was coming with as much dignity as I could manage.

Then, from somewhere outside the warehouse, came the unmistakable sound of gunfire.