Mercy Of The Mafia

The cold concrete felt rough beneath my bare feet. I didn’t know where I’d lost my shoes, maybe near the large dumpster at the end of the block. My breath came in ragged pulls, my lungs burning as I inhaled the sharp New York night air.

“Evelyn! Stop, damn it!”

That voice. The one I used to find warm now rang like a death knell. I kept running into a narrow alley in Bushwick. It was damp, reeking of rotting trash, lit only by a single streetlamp that flickered like it was dying.

I whimpered when the hem of my thin nightgown snagged on a protruding iron pipe. The fabric tore, leaving my left shoulder exposed to the night air. I didn’t care. I just needed to get away from him.

“Help! Anyone, please help me!” I screamed. My voice came out hoarse, cracking against the silent red brick walls.

His footsteps were getting closer. The sound of his boots splashing through puddles echoed like a countdown. I reached the end of the alley. A dead end. A tall concrete wall loomed in front of me. I turned around, and he was already there.

Mark stood there, breathing hard. His eyes were red, filled with the madness that had haunted me for months.

“Where do you think you’re going, Evelyn?” Mark stepped forward slowly, grinning.

“Don’t come any closer, Mark! Stay away from me!”

“You think New York’s going to save you?” He lunged.

I tried to dodge, but he was much stronger. He yanked my arm, sending me crashing to the ground. My head hit the asphalt, and the world spun for a moment. He was on top of me instantly, pinning both my hands above my head with one large hand.

“Let go! You’re insane!” I struggled, trying to kick him off.

He leaned closer. The stench of alcohol poured from his breath. “I’m not insane. I just want what’s mine back. You can’t run anywhere, sweetheart. Because the only person who gets to have you in this world is me. Only Mark.”

“You’re not a boyfriend, Mark. You’re the most vicious toxic monster I’ve ever known!” I spat, nearly hitting his face.

His expression hardened. He grabbed my collar and yanked, the fabric tearing wider with a harsh rip. “You need a lesson.”

In a split second, when his grip loosened just enough because he thought I’d given up, I gathered what little strength I had left. I drove my knee up as hard as I could, striking him square between the legs.

“AAARGH!”

Mark howled in pain. His grip broke. He rolled off me, clutching himself, his face turning pale.

I didn’t wait. I pushed myself up, ignoring the sting in my bloodied knees, and ran out of the alley as fast as I could.

I reached the edge of Flushing Avenue. The streetlights blurred through the tears filling my eyes. I stood on the sidewalk, waving desperately at every passing car.

“Please! Stop! Help me!”

A yellow taxi sped past, splashing rainwater onto my legs without stopping. A black SUV followed, but the driver only accelerated at the sight of me, disheveled and dressed in torn clothes. To them, I probably looked like a junkie on a relapse or a madwoman wandering the streets at midnight.

I walked along the sidewalk, numb. The cold seeped into my bones. I was an orphan. I had no home to return to, no number to call. New York felt impossibly vast, and I felt impossibly small.

I stepped onto a crosswalk without looking at the traffic light. My mind was blank.

Suddenly, a deafening horn blasted beside me. A sleek silver sports car screeched to a halt just inches from my hip, its tires screaming against the asphalt.

“Hey! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

A man leaned his head out of the window. I froze. Under the streetlight, his face looked sharply defined. A strong jawline, black hair styled in a slightly messy but elegant way. He wore a white shirt with the top two buttons undone. He looked like a man straight off the cover of a business magazine, but his eyes were cold, intimidating.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” I whispered, trembling. I couldn’t hold his gaze any longer and ran across to the darker side of the street.

I slipped into an abandoned warehouse area, searching for a place to hide. But I stopped short when I heard low voices coming from behind a stack of metal containers. I held my breath, pressing myself against the dark wall.

“The shipment from the port is delayed. The boss wants ten more girls this month,” a man with a heavy accent said.

“Don’t worry. We’ve already got targets around the campus and some undocumented immigrants. Human trafficking in this city is booming. No one’s going to notice if one or two girls disappear every night,” another replied, followed by a chilling chuckle.

My heart pounded. A human trafficking ring. I had run from one man in Chicago, only to walk straight into the den of a much bigger pack of wolves.

I tried to back away slowly, but my foot hit an empty soda can. The metallic clatter echoed through the silent corridor.

“Who’s there?!” The shout made my skin crawl. Heavy footsteps started heading in my direction.

I turned to run, but a large hand suddenly clamped over my mouth from behind. I struggled, trying to scream, but whoever it was was far stronger. He pulled me into a narrow gap between two concrete walls, pressing my face against his hard chest.

I inhaled the scent of expensive cologne, sandalwood and citrus, a stark contrast to the stench of garbage around us.

“Stay quiet if you want to live,” he whispered in my ear. His voice was low, authoritative, unnervingly calm.

I looked up, my eyes widening. Him. The man from the silver car. He stared at me intently, his index finger pressed to his lips, telling me to stay silent. Outside, a group of armed men passed just a few meters from our hiding place, unaware of us.

When things finally seemed safe, he slowly released his grip, though his hand still held my shoulder. His gaze swept over my disheveled state from head to toe, unreadable.

“You again,” he murmured, his voice like a dangerous melody.

“Thank you… you saved me,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

He gave a faint smirk, one that held no warmth at all. He leaned closer to my ear, his warm breath brushing against my cold skin.

“Don’t thank me yet. You just jumped out of a lion’s mouth, straight into the hands of a far more dangerous hunter.”

“What? What do you mean?”