Elsa
These mafia motherfuckers, always kidnapping me.
The trunk opens suddenly and bright light floods my eyes. Have we stopped? I have been too deep in my head, too terrified, to even notice. My chest heaves as I desperately try to suck air through my nostrils, which are clogged from crying and fear. Deep in the back of my mind I know I hyperventilate if my panic didn’t subside, but I couldn’t control my body.
“Calmati,” I hear Marco say as he leans over, the phone in his hand pointing at me. Jesus. Now he is taking pictures of me? What, is there some mafia social media, where they brag about their killings and kidnappings?
He moves to a different angle and snaps more photos. “I apologize, Elsa. This is necessary, but it’s over.”
In one quick motion, he rips the heavy tape off my mouth. The burning pain sears my skin and causes my eyes to water. Fuck, that hurt. He flicks open a knife and I tense. Is he going to stab me? Rape me? Cut my tongue out?
In a flick of the blade he cuts through the zip tie around my wrists. I immediately cradle them to my chest, rubbing the deep indentations in the skin. Pins and needles start at my shoulders and work their way down my arms as the blood flow returns. I wince, waiting for the pain to subside.
Marco lifts me out because I am too weak to fight him, which I hate.
Alessia and Marco steady me when my legs tremble and I almost topple over. Shaky and sweaty, I lick my lips. “You fucking asshole.”
He smirks, unrepentant over his evilness. “I know. Dai, andiamo You may sit in the back seat.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“To Naples. No one is going to hurt you, I promise.”
“You held me at gunpoint and shoved me into a trunk. It’s a little late for that, Marco.”
“I apologize, but I had to make it look convincing for the cameras.” He leads me to the back seat and produces a pair of handcuffs. “Get in.”
“Why would I go anywhere with you two fucked-up psychos?”
He raises his shirt, showing me the pistol tucked into his waistband. “I prefer to do this nicely, but I am happy to put you back in the trunk, if you prefer. Either way, you are coming with me.”
I want to fight. To run and escape. But we are on a deserted stretch of road, with nothing but flat ground all around us. I won’t get far.
You will find a way to escape, Elsa. Play along for now.
I slide into the back seat, and Marco glares down at me. “I will handcuff you and put you back in the trunk if you try anything. Behave and you can sit back here with Alessia.”
Alessia gets in beside me as Marco walks around to the driver’s seat. “There is nothing to worry about,” Alessia says. “Marco won’t hurt you. This is about getting what he wants from Marcello.”
Great. That is certainly reassuring.
And just saying, if she thinks we were still friendly, she can fuck right off.
Marco gets in and starts the car. I lean against the door and close my eyes, exhausted. What time is it? I have no idea how long I had been in that trunk. What I am certain of is that we are still in Sardinia.
Alessia nudges me with a bottle of water. “Here. Drink this. I have a protein bar for you, too.”
I am not too proud to refuse, I feel so dizzy from all the hunger. “Thank you.” Marco is texting on his phone, so I ask her, “How much longer?”
“A few more hours till we reach the beach.”
Oh, fantastic. This is going to be a miserable car trip. At least I am not in the trunk any longer.
Marco starts the car and drives off.
I can do this. I can outsmart them. Outlast them. No doubt they think I am weak and silly, the girl in the black bikini from the yacht. The puttanella.
A phone rings over the car’s audio system. “Pronto,” Marco says.
Deep voice fills the car, and my muscles instantly go on alert. His voice is clipped and formal, but unmistakable.
Marcello.
I feel like I haven’t heard his sexy rumble in weeks. My chest cracks, little fissures of misery opening up again, all the aches I want to bury.
“Go ahead,” Marco says. “You are on my car’s speaker.”
“Elsa,” Marcello says calmly. “Are you well?”
“Yes, am alright, Marcello. Don’t worry about me,” I respond.
“Marco is going to take care of you. Be a good girl,” he says, his tone composed. That sounds comforting enough. Why is he so calm? I am about to lose it here.
Marco disconnects the phone from the system and holds it to his ear. It’s almost difficult to hear what they are saying.
I feel so bereft. Maybe it’s because the phone call didn’t go the way I expected. Marcello sounded too calm… too comfortable.
A lot of disturbing ideas start coming toy mind. Is Marcello going to let Marco take me? What did he mean by Marco is going to take care of me? Do I need to be taken care of? What the fuck is going on? What is this stronzo planning to do to me?
I have the strange feeling that Marcello is not going to save me.
What the fuck does Marco want? Ransom? Or is he also doing this just to protect me? Sounds like a joke because this is how it all begun. Now here I am being re-kidnapped by my captors rival. The irony is not lost in my life. I thought I had Federico to watch out for but surprise! Turns out I am now a good Target for Marcello’s enemies who want to corner him.