La Bella Mafia

La Bella Mafia

Jamiles Cristina · Ongoing · 89.8k Words

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Introduction

Mariana is an undercover police officer tasked with investigating a mafia family. She assumes the identity of an ordinary person and ends up getting involved with the only son of the man she was looking for, Ravi. As their relationship grows, she finds herself torn between her mission and her love for Ravi, leading her to make difficult choices, especially after she becomes pregnant with him.

Chapter 1

The engine roared as he pressed more and more on the accelerator. He had no doubt that he had made the right decision. All I ever wanted was to get rid of them, especially my toxic uncle; Once and for all.

The car accelerates a little more, but as I approached a curve, I was forced to slow down, however, the brakes did not work completely, only partially.

Concluding in a few seconds that I was facing death, it didn't scare me, even with the certainty that he didn't want to kill me, that he was just trying to scare me.

At the last moment, I turn the steering wheel in the opposite direction, causing the car to overturn instantly.

The noise of the bodywork hitting the floor and being dented is deafening.

I have no control over my body as it crashes in several places until the car stops upside down, my vision blurring for a moment as a buzzing settles in my ears.

Every inch of my body ached. Something that looked like blood slithered vaguely across my forehead as I tried my best to keep my eyes open and fixed on the empty road.

Through half"closed eyelids, I feel someone approaching. There were three of them, talking among themselves, as they walked in long strides towards me.

Even though I wanted to die, I didn't want to die that way.

"... get me out of here," I mumble, feeling the blood rush to my head.

A blurred figure approaches, skilled hands trying to unbuckle the seat belt.

My body hits the roof of the car when the belt is released, and only then am I pulled out in a way that wasn't gentle, but I didn't care too much. As I was pulled away from the car, all I could think about was that I needed to call insurance.

"Are you hurt?"

I look at the man who touches my arm and looks at my shirt. His expression is extremely worried, and he looks me up and down, looking for injuries. By the reaction, I realize that he is not from the south zone, a heartless person. He may even live around there, but he certainly comes from somewhere that hasn't completely extracted his empathy.

"Are you hurt?" he repeats, looking me in the eye this time.

"I..." I stammer, feeling dizzy, unable to look away from the upside"down car.

The plan was to run away, throw it all away. But it still didn't work out too well, there were things I needed to improve, for example checking the car's brakes next time. I can feel everything I've just been through churning in my stomach.

When my body suddenly starts to shake, I cover my mouth with my hand, but quickly remove it when I feel something sticky on my lips. Blood. I look down at my shirt. Finding more blood there, I had practically bathed in my own blood.

I grab my shirt and try to pull it up to my chest, but it sticks to where the blood has started to dry.

From one moment to the next, I found that I desperately needed water. I was starting to feel a little dizzy.

I want to rub my forehead, scratch my nose, but I'm afraid of getting more blood on myself. I look at the man who is still partially holding my body, keeping me almost in a sitting position.

"Would you have water?"

He presses his lips together and looks to the side, checking his surroundings. Glancing at one of the men standing nearby.

"Take that bottle of water in the car "The other does not take long to return, I drink the water ignoring my trembling hand and the feeling of water in my stomach.

When my body is lifted without me doing anything

effort, I look at the man who was at my back.

"Where are you taking me?

"You need to clean up "he says leading me to a car that doesn't

it was too far away "There's a gas station nearby. There

who knows, he might even call insurance "he should have

deducted by the make of the car, that it should have insurance.

As soon as we arrive at the gas station, the stranger holds the door open for me.

A woman with an expensive"looking purse and clothes as expensive as the purse tries to squeeze past me until she notices my shirt. She soon pulls away and open sway, making a face. I'm going to the bathroom female, but the door is locked.

The man opens the male's door and beckons for me to enter with him.

He goes straight to the sink and turns on the faucet. I look in the mirror, relieved. It's not as bad as I imagined. There's a cut on my forehead and also a gulp and other small bruises all over my face.

But, luckily, it was the blouse that got the worst of it.

The man hands me some wet papers and I wipe my face as he wets some more. Now I can smell the blood. In a whirlwind, that penetrating odor takes me back to my 10 years of age and not very old memories.

The smell of blood was so strong that it triggered triggers that forced me to left.

do it at all costs.

It makes me nauseous and I try to hold my breath. I don't want to vomit.

I needed to get rid of that shirt. That moment.

With trembling fingers, I undo the buttons, take off my shirt and hold it under the faucet. I let the water do all the work, I take more papers from the stranger and start cleaning the blood from my chest.

Instead of giving me and my unattractive bra some privacy, the stranger locks the door so no one can come in and see me topless. It's an excess of chivalry that makes me a little uncomfortable. I tense up looking at him in the mirror's reflection.

Someone knocks on the door.

"We're leaving now," he says.

I relax a little. At least there's someone on the other side of the door to hear my screams if need be.

I try to focus on the blood until I get it all out of my neck and chest. I turn to take a look at my hair, when I feel an ache in my head, deciding I'm not going to mess with it just yet.

"Here," says the man, taking off the smelly T"shirt he's been wearing.

was wearing "Put this on.

He's practically naked from the waist up, accurate

look away so as not to make that situation even more

embarrassing than it already was.

The guy is strong and taller than me. The shirt

it practically swallowed me, but it would do until I got home. I dry my skin, put on my shirt. I look ridiculous, but at least I wouldn't get soaked in blood. There is always a good side.

My blouse is hopeless. I take it out of the sink and throw it in the trash.

Then I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Two eyes

empty and tired stare back at me. They went from hazel to somber brown after the horror they'd witnessed. I rub my cheeks with my hands to try to get them back.

some color but nothing done. My face is dead.

I lean against the wall, with my back to the mirror.

The man crosses his arms under his chest and looks at me for a moment.

“I can't tell if you're calm or in shock.

I wasn't in shock, but I don't think I was calm either.

“To be honest, I'm not even sure,” I admit. "You

he is well?

My eyes roam the space between us as

I tried to find the answer to that question within myself.

“I've seen worse.

I tilt my head in an attempt to tease out all the layers.

that enigmatic answer. He breaks eye contact, but

that just makes me stare at him even more, wondering what it could be

worse than seeing a man's head crushed under

from a truck. Maybe he's from the south after all.

Or maybe he works in a hospital. He has a burning efficiency

which is quite common in people who are responsible for others

people.

"Are you a nurse?

He shakes his head.

“I work in investments.”

He walks over and touches my shoulder, wiping something off

shirt. His shirt. When he lowers his arm, he looks into my face for a moment before pulling away.

"What is your name?”

"Mariana "I lie.

He hesitates when I say my name, but it lasts for a few seconds.

“Ravi,” he replies.

He walks over to the sink, turns the water on again, and

start washing your hands.

I continue to stare at him, unable to hide my curiosity. What do you mean, has he seen anything worse than the accident he just witnessed?

He said he was in the investment business, but even the worst day at work wouldn't make someone so melancholy.

"What happened to you?

He looks at me through the mirror.

"Like this?

“You said you've seen worse. What kind?

He turns off the faucet, dries his hands and replies:

"Do you really want to know?" "I keep looking, waiting for him.

continue, until he smiles after a few seconds, before

a strong dizziness fell on me, forcing him to support me

before it hit the ground.

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