Love Amidst Shadows A Mafia Romance Story

Genna's POV

I sat alone in our dimly lit living room, unable to shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Clinton, my brother, rushed in.

"Clinton, what's wrong?" I asked, alarm creeping into my voice.

He didn't answer. Instead, he glanced around the room, ensuring we were alone.

"Genna, come with me, quick!" he whispered urgently, striding toward me. "We have to hide."

My heart skipped a beat. Clinton's tone sent shivers down my spine.

"What's happening? Tell me!" I demanded, rising from my chair.

Clinton's face twisted in a mixture of fear and determination.

"Shh, just trust me," he said, grasping my arm. "We don't have much time."

He dragged me toward the wardrobe.

"Hide, Genna. Don't come out, no matter what," he instructed, his voice low and serious.

"Promise me," he urged.

I nodded, my heart racing.

"I promise," I whispered.

Clinton slammed the wardrobe door shut, enveloping me in darkness.

The front door gust open and I heard hurried footsteps.

I covered my mouth, suppressing a scream.

I peeked through a small gap in the wardrobe and masked men surrounded Clinton, beating him up. He fought back, landing punches and kicks, but they were too many.

A figure stood apart, watching the chaos. From my view, it was a huge man but I couldn't see his face. His voice rang out, cold and detached.

"Take him down," he commanded.

Clinton's struggles grew weaker. He was outnumbered and soon, the men pinned him to the floor.

"Stop! Please stop!" I silently screamed as tears streamed down my face.

The man stepped forward,

"Where is she?" he demanded.

Clinton's response was muffled,

"I have no idea."

His response was followed by blows and he fell weakly, coughing out blood.

"For the last time, where is your sister?" the man asked again.

"I'd rather die than tell you." Clinton said.

These men are searching for me. What do they want from me? From us?

"Finish him."

The man signaled, and a fist hit Clinton's jaw. His head snapped back, and he went limp on the floor.

A gunshot echoed through the room and Clinton lay in the pool of his own blood.

I stumbled backward, my scream trapped in my throat.

The men left, leaving Clinton's lifeless body behind. With shaking hands, I pushed the wardrobe door open and stumbled out.

"Clinton..." I whimpered,

Clinton's body lay motionless on the floor, his eyes open, staring at me.

"No, no, no..." I sobbed, collapsing beside him.

Tears streamed down my face as I cradled his head in my lap.

Clinton's bloody hand still clutched a piece of paper. Unfolding it, it read:

"Run, Genna. They're coming for you."

Clinton was my older brother and the only sibling I have. Our parents died a long time ago and I have little or no memories of them except for my mother's necklace which I have never parted with.

We have been living with my aunt, Francesca, ever since.

I sprang up, Clinton's note clutched in my trembling hand. Some bad people are looking for me, I can't let them kill me just like my brother.

My heart racing, I rushed to the closet and yanked out a small bag. With shaky hands, I fumbled through the drawer and stuffed few clothes into the bag. I didn't know where I was going, but I had to get out.

As I zipped the bag, the sound of footsteps echoed outside the door. Heavy, deliberate steps.

My heart sank.

The door burst open, and three hefty men came in. I froze, my bag slipping from my grasp.

"Genna," another man growled, his voice dripping with malice. "You're coming with us."

My heart was beating furiously. I backed away, my eyes darting around the room for an escape.

"Try to run, and you'll regret it," the third man snarled, blocking my path.

I was trapped.

One of them grabbed my arm, spinning me around.