2

°chapter 2°

The gorgeous man was not alone. Two men in black suits are beside him, they are all holding guns but the gorgeous man has his aimed at my head.

"Come down, Alexa" he keeps calling me by that name but now the thick Italian accent was noticeable in his voice. "Now!"

I raised my hands holding both of my high heels, jumping off of the garbage bin. They closed in on my direction, the sheepish glow of the building's security light shows his icy dark dangerous eyes.

"I'm not her," I announced coldly.

GIM (gorgeous Italian man) smirk "that's the best you can say? Your lies are getting crappy."

He motioned the two men in suits to grab me. They both held my arms and guided me back to the streets. Whoever this Alexa was was less of my concerns at the moment. If they are connected to Dante I was doomed.

I can't go back to him, I just can't.

A black SUV was waiting for us, one man in a suit slide out of the passenger side and opened the backseat. When we stood at the door, I spit on the man holding the door, head butter the man in my left, and stabbed the man in my right with my killer heels in his throat, just enough to make him choke.

I heard curses and groans as I kneed the man at the door in his crotch, he crouched and held his pained manhood. I ducked when I felt GIM behind me, funny how I can sense his presence - I just met the guy a few minutes ago, we don't even like each other - and evaded his arms. Spinning in my ducked stance, I managed to kick his knee and ran as soon as he stumbled back.

Five years, that's how long I've been running for my life. The thought of Dante having a hold on me again scares the shit out of me.

He can't control me again.

I can't.

Not again.

I saw a bike parked in front of a building, hotwired it, and accelerated into the slightly busy streets. Years on the run taught me to do crime thieves would commit. The SUV was behind me in seconds. The bike was at 180 mph, the buildings vanished from my sight, all I can focus on was my escape. Speeding tickets isn't frightening when you're running for the sake of your lonely damned life. My hair was flowing tangled with the wind as the SUV neared my side.

Bullets were flying everywhere - these men did not even bother to use silencers! Who the hell are they? - I asked myself as I leaned my body closer to the bike and headed for the bridge in a diabolical plan to lose them in the waters. The bike swerved in my attempt to evade each shot as best as I can - if I was lucky, I'd get out alive. The bridge was close but a bullet pierced the front wheel, knocking me off of the bike into the street, my body stumbled over.

"hijo de puta!"  I groaned. It hurts like fúcking hell everywhere!

The car stopped in front of me as I tried to stand up. My ankle was clearly sprained, it hurts damn much with every step I take, blood was dripping from my forehead blinding me but I have to keep going.

A bullet pierced the air close to my ears, slicing between the misbehaving locks of my now bird's nest-like brown hair, but that didn't stop me from moving. Italian curses were decorating the silent night, a hand gripped my arms, leaving my skin bruised with its firm grip. I tried to fight, punched, and kicked to break out from my impending death sentence, but my vision was blurry, the earth was spinning until I felt a heavy thud in my temple.

It was cold, the pain whack all over me as I urge my eyes to open. It was pitch black, I tried to hold my pounding head - attempting to soothe away the pain - but it was a futile gamble, my hands were restrained beside me somehow.

Panic coursed through my body, flashes of the Italians flood my brain. They have me, they caught me.

Is this the end of Lianna vida de perra Black? After all the hiding, running, playing hide and seek with Dante's men, was this it? (bítch life)

I'm still alive though. I thought silently, concentrating on my surroundings. It was dark but my eyes adjusted with my other senses. This was probably a basement cell and the shackles holding my hands were too far for me to reach and unlock them. My ankles weren't restrained but the pain made my face twitched when I tried to move them.

The bright light blinded me, I closed my eyes to protect my irises but it wasn't helping at all. I was seated on the floor and the rumbling of a chair being dragged revibrated through my whole being.

"I'm sorry for running, Dante," I said shakily. "Please Señor... please... don't..."

I was scared. He was the only man who can hurt me in ways that even hell wasn't a place of solace.

"Who the fúck is Dante?" that voice. It wasn't Dante's. It was GIM.

The lights were hurting my eyes but I forced them to open. It was really that Italian. He was seated in a metal chair in the middle of the room, his dark icy orbs were studying me with intense anger.

The room was scented with copper, urine, and smoke coming from the man in front of me. The brick walls and floor were decorated with dried blood, deteriorated by time, and the sound of agonizing pain echoed from the outside of the cell. There was a table close to the door holding metals of different sizes and shapes which scared the shít out of me. Suddenly, it hit me. It wasn't just my hallucinations, the sound was real and men - hope to God not women - are being tortured on the other side of the walls surrounding me.

"Who are you?" I found myself asking. He sure wasn't working for Dante, he has no cobra ink in his neck, but who is this man?

He chuckled evilly while taking a long drag of his Treasurer, probably Luxury Black. The smell was so good that I found myself inhaling it. Such expensive taste. I could only imagine how good it would taste, how it would feel to let that $67 per pack of cigarettes graze my lips.

"You're good." The man stated. "What's with this act, Alexa?"

I looked into his eyes, there was no humor in them, just pure darkness. "I'm not her" repeating my statement on the alley.

He stood up from his chair abruptly that it fell behind. It took him three strode until he was holding my neck, lifting me, and pinning me on the wall,  choking me in the process. He breathe the smoke in my face, making me cough but I was losing air in my lungs from his hold.

"I've searched for you and you're giving me this crap?" he hissed in my face. "Try something else, Alexa, or I'll bury you alive." He let go of my neck, I gasped, my lungs seized all the air it needed.

It's better if he end my life anyway. I thought to myself.

"Where is it?" he asked as he stood beside the table.

"Where is what?"

He lifts a tattered knife in his hand and walks slowly to where I stood. "I'll carve my name in your chest if you don't stop acting dumb, Alexa."

He traced the neckline of my dress with his knife. The pointed cold blade sent shivers all over my being. "Where did you bury my father?"