Page 171 of Broken Mafia Prince
My child will never be gifted a weapon on their birthday, nor will they know what it feels like to be trussed up like a pig and stuffed in an uncomfortable car trunk. I tap around until I locate my knife, knowing that every second counts.
“Stop the car. I need to go.”
“Hold it.”
“It’s not that kind of need, asshole.”
The car screeches to a halt. Jackpot.
I’m too excited about my success to be bothered about being bumped around like a rag doll. The stars align in that moment as I feel the rope on my wrist give under the edge of the blade.
I slip the dagger back into my garter and ready myself. I stay still, listening to the man grumbling to himself.
“Are you sure?” he spits, voice filled with irritation.
“You’ll find out for yourself in five minutes tops,” I hiss.
“Damn it.” I hear the car door bang shut. His heavy footsteps approach the trunk. He flings it open and glares at me. “Bitch.”
I flash him a sweet smile that only makes him scowl harder. He grabs me by my shoulders and drags me up, almost dislocating one in the process. I grit my teeth, biting back my cry of pain. My body is one big bruise, but I can’t afford to look broken.
Timing is crucial now, so I bide my time, pretending like my bindings are still in place.
The lack of blood flow in my legs causes them to buckle as I’m dropped to my feet. My kidnapper reaches for me, and that’s when I strike. I slash my hand in an arc as hard as I can, slicing across the man’s chest.
He screams, stumbling away in wide-eyed horror.
I pivot to run?—
Too slow.
Pain rips through my scalp as he yanks me back by my hair. I twist, swinging the dagger, but he’s ready. A brutal slap sends me reeling, the knife flying from my grasp.
The world tilts. He looms over me, breath hot against my cheek.
“Should’ve stayed put, princess.”
“Vaffanculo figlio di puttana!” I gather saliva in the back of my throat and spit in his eye. Fuck off, you son of a bitch!
His face twists from anger into something far worse—pure, unrestrained rage. The next blow lands on the other side of my face, and I don’t flinch. I expected it. What Ididn’texpect was him yanking me toward the edge of the road.
Panic claws at my throat as I fight, kicking, struggling, screaming. I should be able to take him down, IknowI can. But he’s bigger, stronger. And my baby,ourbaby. I can’t let anything happen. Not now. Not ever.
I swear it.
If I die today, I’ll go down fighting.
With a grin on my lips and my middle finger held high.
Screw them all.
57
RAFFAELE
“They’ve stopped moving.” Matteo’s voice is grim.
The evening sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the empty highway stretching endlessly before us. We’ve been driving for what seems like hours, and every mile feels like a ticking bomb inside my chest.
