Babysitting The Ruthless Mafia's Son

Isla’s POV

It was midnight.

The cold wind bit at my skin as I stared at the pile of my belongings scattered on the sidewalk. The landlady’s shrill voice still echoed in my head.

“You haven’t paid rent in two months! I’m not running a charity for beggers like you!” The landlady yelled.

I barely got a moment to gather my things before she shoved me out. I begged her again, even pleaded for more time but her face stayed stone-cold.

I was—homeless once again, freezing, and completely lost.

I shivered and pulled my thin coat closer as I dragged my suitcase aimlessly down the dark and empty street.

My stomach twisted painfully, not just from hunger, but from the pain of everything that had been building up since my parents’ accident.

I had no family left, no friends who could take me in. I was alone in a city notorious for its crime rate, where just last week, a young woman had been found dead in an alley two blocks from here.

My hands trembled as I clutched the suitcase.

“It’ll be okay, Isla,” I whispered to myself, though I didn’t believe it.

I wandered until I found myself at a small, deserted park. The only light came from a single flickering streetlamp, casting eerie shadows on the bench nearby. I sank down onto it, hugging my knees to my chest.

“Where do I even go?” I muttered, staring into the dark.

It felt surreal, as if any moment I’d wake up back in my tiny apartment, with the comfort of four walls and a roof over my head. But reality was harsh, and the cold breeze reminded me that there was no going back.

Just then, I heard a low murmur of voices. My heart raced as I spotted a group of men staggering down the path. Their voices slurred, carrying that unmistakable edge of drunken aggression.

Panic seized me, and I dropped down, pressing myself against the back of the bench.

“Stay quiet, Isla. Don’t move,” I whispered under my breath, barely daring to breathe.

The men stumbled closer, laughing and cursing. My pulse pounded in my ears as I held my breath, clutching my suitcase with all my strength.

If they saw me…I couldn’t finish the thought. I didn’t want to think about what might happen. I don't want to end as a headline in the crime section of this city.

They passed by and I let out a shaky sigh, slumping back against the cold metal of the bench. The relief was overwhelming, but it was short-lived. I couldn’t stay here. I needed somewhere safe.

A sudden clap of thunder split the sky, startling me from my thoughts. Heavy raindrops began to fall soaking through my thin coat within seconds.

“Of course,” I muttered bitterly, looking up at the dark sky.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, now I was stranded in a thunderstorm. I pulled my suitcase close, shielding it as best I could, though it did little to keep me dry.

The bench wasn’t an option anymore, I needed to find some kind of shelter.

Gathering the last of my strength, I got up, dragging my soaked suitcase behind me as I searched for anywhere that could offer a little protection from the storm.

My shoes splashed in the rising puddles on the pavement, my clothes clinging to me already wet.

As I walked down the dark street, I spotted an old, rundown building with a broken sign hanging above its door. It looked abandoned, but there was an overhang that stretched out just enough to keep me out of the rain.

Thunder rumbled again, and I clutched my suitcase to my chest, huddling against the wall. I was soaked to the bone, my body shivering uncontrollably as the cold crept into my skin.

I thought of my parents, of the life I’d once had, of the warm hugs and gentle words that were now only distant memories. It felt like years had passed since then, even though it had only been a few months.

A tear mixed with the rain streaming down my face and I couldn’t tell where the sadness ended, and the rain began.

The storm had finally subsided sometime in the night. I wandered aimlessly through the streets. I could feel the water pooling in my shoes with each step. I hadn’t slept. I hadn’t eaten. I was running on fumes, driven by the need to just keep moving, as if walking could somehow take me away from this reality.

The traffic light flashed green, and I stepped off the curb to cross the street, glancing both ways out of habit. My mind was foggy. Just a few more steps.

A sudden blinding light filled my vision, and the screech of tires made me froze. The blaring horn pierced my ears as a car hurtled toward me, too fast. I didn’t have time to move or even think.

I felt the air leave my lungs in a painful gasp. My head hit the pavement, and a sharp, searing pain shot through my body before everything went dark.

In the brief moments before I lost consciousness, one thought drifted through my mind.

Is this how it ends?