Page 45 of Darkest Oblivion

Could mafia men truly be noble? Could I trust the ones leading me to the airstrip more than the monster who caged me, shot a woman for insulting me, and claimed, ‘I’m the only one who has the right to?’

Their talk of tradition seemed noble, but the mafia thrived in shadows

God, let this not be my doom.

The car cut through Italy’s winding streets, Lake Como’s waters glinting under the moonlight, the engine’s low hum a sharp counterpoint to my racing thoughts.

I clutched my inhaler, a fragile anchor, my legs still trembling from the ballroom.

The car slowed, pulling onto a private airstrip, tarmac stretching under harsh floodlights, a sleek jet gleaming in the distance.

Relief flickered, but fear clung like a noose.

The door opened.

A man gestured. “Please, come with us, miss,” he said, gruff yet polite.

I nodded, stepping onto the asphalt, sneakers scuffing the concrete.

What if darkness lurked behind their polite façades? I pushed the doubt down, following them toward the jet.

Inside, a younger man with a scar across his cheek pointed to a seat. “Miss, here,” he said, tone flat.

I sank into the leather seat. If all went well, I’d be in America in eight hours—reunited with my family, free of Dmitri’s cage.

Relief should have filled me, but instead a hollow ache gnawed at my chest.

Seconds ticked by, then minutes, maybe hours, and the plane hadn’t moved.

Restlessness clawed at me, chest tightening—not from asthma but dread.

I rose, jeans stiff with dried sweat, and crept toward the rear galley. Stainless steel counters gleamed under dim lights, voices drifting from behind a partition, low and conspiratorial.

“We’ll stage the drop-off, then send her to the Bellantis,” one man said, a cruel smirk curling his lips. “Big payout if she arrives alive.”

The other frowned, unease creeping into his tone. “Volkov... he might come after us.”

The first laughed darkly. “Only if he gives a damn about her. Did you see him at the ball? Walked out like it was nothing. Let’s get this done, or we’re the ones dead.”

My blood ran cold. The Bellantis—the family of Antonio, my ex-fiancé, the one whose betrayal had stung worse than words.

The Bellantis had placed a bounty on my head?

I had thought Antonio had given up without a fight, but I was wrong.

Panic clawed at my chest. No phone, no way to reach Dmitri, no plan—yet I couldn’t stay frozen. I had to do something.

I tiptoed to the main cabin door. The latch was cold, stiff under my fingers. I wrestled it open, and a rush of cool air hit my face.

“Where are you going, miss?” A voice behind me was polite.

My heart jumped. I spat out the first lie. “Just... needed some air.”

The scarred man stepped into view, eyes narrowing.

Another followed, the bearded man glinting under the floodlights. “We’re about to depart,” the bearded one said, tone flat.

“I need to speak to Dmitri first,” I said, voice trembling.