A Deal With The Italian Mafia

"I shouldn't have agreed to go with Lina to the party. That damn Lina-running off with a guy and leaving me to go home alone this late."

My heartbeat quickened. The thought pounded in my head as I walked briskly, each step faster than the last. The empty streets stretched ahead of me, dim and eerie, shadows flickering under the flickering streetlights. I needed to get home. I needed to feel safe again.

Every window I passed looked dark and hollow, like eyes watching from the void. My reflection flitted alongside me in the glass-distorted, ghostlike. I didn't like the way it looked. I didn't like the way I looked-frightened, alone, exposed.

My footsteps echoed in the emptiness, each sharp sound bouncing off the walls and sending a shiver down my spine. The air felt heavier than it had earlier, thick with something I couldn't name, pressing against my chest like an invisible weight I couldn't shake off.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. The sudden buzz shattered the silence, a spike of fear jolting through me like an electric shock.

I jumped, pulse racing, and yanked it out, hoping-praying-it was Lina, finally checking in after ditching me. But the screen made my stomach drop: Unknown Caller.

The hairs on my neck rose. No one ever called me this late. Not unless something was wrong. My fingers tightened around the phone, thumb hesitating over the answer button. It had to be Lina... right?

My breathing turned shallow, and my feet slowed. Then, before I could change my mind, I pressed "Answer" and brought the phone to my ear. My breath came out unsteady.

"Hello? Lina, is that you?" My voice wavered despite my best effort to keep it steady. No answer.

My heart slammed against my ribs. The quiet on the other end wasn't just empty-it was suffocating, like a void swallowing all sound.

"Hello?" I tried again, sharper this time, forcing the word out. I heard a breath-slow, deliberate, almost... measured. Then, a voice.

"Emilia."

The world stopped.

I forgot how to breathe.

My grip on the phone tightened, my knuckles aching. That voice. I knew that voice.

I had spent years searching for it. Hearing it in my dreams. Chasing it in my nightmares.

"Papà?" The word barely made it past my lips, strangled and trembling. A sharp click. The line went dead.

I stood frozen, the phone still pressed to my ear, my breath trapped in my throat. As if keeping it there might somehow hold on to him, might keep the connection open. But he was gone.

The street stretched before me, empty, yet suddenly too vast, too quiet. It was like the air had turned hostile.

How could it be him? My father had vanished five years ago-without a single trace. The police gave up. Everyone gave up. But not me.

Every birthday, every holiday, I kept waiting for a call, a letter-anything. I used to imagine him somewhere out there, alive. Maybe he had amnesia. Maybe he was being kept from us. Maybe he wanted to come back but couldn't.

But now, he had come back. In a whisper. In the dead of night.

The wind wasn't just cold anymore-it cut through me, slicing like a blade, like a warning. No. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

For five years, I had searched for him. Five years of dialing disconnected numbers, chasing shadows, finding nothing but silence.

And now, after all this time, he calls, says my name, then ends the call. A pit formed in my stomach, dread clawing at my insides.

I redialed, my breath caught in my throat.

But it went straight to voicemail, just like always.

I exhaled shakily. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it was a cruel trick my mind played on me after too many sleepless nights. A hallucination brought on by fear and loneliness.

But deep down, I knew the truth. I would never mistake that voice.

A chill settled in my bones, slow and creeping, as if something unseen had just shifted the course of my life in a way I couldn't take back.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the figure creeping closer behind me until it was too late.

A gust of wind swept through the street, but the shiver down my spine wasn't from the cold. It was the footsteps.

I felt them more than I heard them-a presence closing in behind me, echoing my every move.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears. My breath turned shallow again. I quickened my pace. But the moment my steps grew faster, so did his. He was matching me, step for step. I didn't dare look back.

My dorm wasn't far. If I could just reach it...

A flicker of movement in a shop window caught my eye-it was the shadow of a man.

The dim street lights carved him out of the night-a tall figure standing unnaturally still. Watching. Waiting. Like a predator eyeing a prey.

Fear shot through my veins. My stomach knotted so tightly it hurt.

I turned to run, but it was too late. A hand clamped over my mouth, swallowing my scream. I twisted, kicked, clawed-but he didn't budge.

A solid arm yanked me back against a body cold as ice. Before I could even scream in my mind, I felt it-a sharp sting was felt at my neck.

Something pulsed into me. A hot, burning flood of fire through my veins, robbing me of strength with terrifying speed.

My vision blurred. My body swayed. My legs gave out. My mind screamed at me to fight, but I couldn't. My muscles went limp. My phone slipped from my fingers, falling to the pavement with a dull thud.

The world tilted around me. Colors melted into darkness. I reached for something-anything-to hold onto. The sound of my name, my father's voice, the cold reality of what had just happened.

But all I found was silence.

Darkness lunged forward, swallowing me whole.