Chapter 5 - The Abandoned WarehouseWhen Mabel woke up, the first thing she felt was the freezing, damp concrete biting into her skin.
She gasped, sitting up quickly, her head spinning with a violent wave of nausea. She was inside an abandoned, cavernous industrial warehouse somewhere along the desolate stretch of the Chicago riverfront. The windows were shattered, letting in the biting December wind.
She tried to stand, but her hands were bound behind her back with thick zip-ties.
“Well, well. The beggar queen wakes up.”
Mabel whipped her head around. Standing near a rusted steel drum with a burning trash fire was Clarissa Vance, flanked by two armed thugs in cheap suits.
Clarissa walked over, her designer heels clicking against the concrete floor, stopping right in front of Mabel with a triumphant, venomous sneer.
“You thought you could hook a billionaire and play society lady, didn't you?” Clarissa spat, crossing her arms. “My father lost three million dollars in commercial contracts because of your little mafia boyfriend. But Alessandro can’t protect a ghost.”
Mabel swallowed hard, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the terror gripping her chest. “Alessandro will tear this city apart to find me, Clarissa. You’re signing your own death warrant.”
Clarissa laughed—a high, shrill sound of pure malice. “By the time Moretti figures out where you are, you’ll be halfway across the Atlantic. My father arranged a cargo freighter heading to South America. You’re going to be a guest worker in a rubber plantation, Mabel. No one will ever find you.”
Mabel felt a cold spike of dread. But then, a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit her stomach. She doubled over, coughing, her hand instinctively pressing against her lower abdomen.
A terrifying realization washed over her.
She had been feeling sick every morning for the past week. She had missed her cycle.
She was pregnant. Carrying Alessandro’s child.
If they put her on that freighter, her baby—and her life—were forfeit.
“You’re monsters,” Mabel whispered, glaring up at Clarissa with fierce, unbroken defiance.
Clarissa raised her hand, winding up to slap Mabel across the face.
CRASH!
The massive corrugated iron doors of the warehouse suddenly exploded inward, torn off their heavy industrial hinges as if hit by a battering ram.
Shouts, gunfire, and the screams of armed guards echoed through the cavernous space.
Clarissa froze, her hand hanging in mid-air. “What... what is that?!”
Through the smoke and swirling dust, a single figure emerged.
Alessandro Moretti.
He wasn't wearing his tailored suit tonight. He wore a dark tactical turtleneck, a heavy leather jacket, and leather gloves. His face was carved from black granite, his gray eyes burning with the terrifying, uncontrolled fury of a god of death. Behind him swarmed dozens of heavily armed Moretti enforcers, neutralizing Clarissa’s guards in seconds without firing a second glance.
Clarissa shrieked, backing away toward the river exit. “Keep away from me! Don't you—!”
Alessandro didn't even look at her as he walked past. One of his enforcers grabbed Clarissa by the arm, shoving her to the concrete and binding her wrists with industrial zip-ties.
Alessandro dropped to his knees in front of Mabel.
The cold, terrifying syndicate king vanished instantly, replaced by a man who looked like his entire world had just been resurrected from the dead. With trembling fingers, he sliced through the zip-ties binding her wrists.
“Mabel,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. “Oh, God... Mabel. Are you hurt? Did they touch you?”
Mabel buried her face in his shoulder, letting out a ragged sob of pure relief. “Alessandro... you found me.”
“I would tear the earth apart to find you,” he vowed fiercely, pulling back to cup her face, his thumb wiping away her tears. “I am so sorry. I was ambushed on the docks—a diversion to get me away from the estate. I failed to protect you.”
“No,” Mabel whispered, taking his large hand and pressing it gently against her lower stomach. “You came in time. Both of us are safe.”
Alessandro blinked, looking down at where his hand rested against her. A profound, stunned realization crossed his harsh features. His breath caught in his throat.
“Mabel... are you...?”
May you like
She smiled through her tears, nodding slowly.
Alessandro closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers as a single tear slipped down his cheek—the first time anyone in Chicago had ever seen the mafia king cry.
