Chapter 4 Prisoner Of Love

Carlos and his men drove me home, the atmosphere inside the car felt suffocating and restless. The silence was heavy, and my mind raced with a million thoughts. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from my chest, nothing about anything was making me feel good especially when my hand was intertwined with Carlos's hand. He held me tightly, and that only deepened my unease. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I was with a mafia king, and somehow, he had made me his queen.

This was my first time being outside past my curfew and of all things, this happened. It felt as if Richard and Fiona had known this was going to unfold, which was why they had been so protective, keeping me sheltered from the outside world. The tension in the air was palpable, and I could sense the weight of my new reality pressing down on me.

Finally, we pulled up to my house, and Carlos reluctantly released my hand. He leaned in and planted a soft peck on my cheek, his breath warm against my skin. "I will be back to get you tomorrow," he said, his voice steady. "Tonight, get some rest. I'll call you in the morning."

"How?" I asked a hint of disbelief in my tone. "You don't even have my number," I said even though deep down I had a nagging feeling that he did have my number

He flashed a confident smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm pretty sure that I do. Take care, Nala. I'll see you tomorrow."

As the car door swung open, I climbed out, feeling the cool night air wash over me. I turned to head toward the doorstep, glancing back to see Carlos and his men still watching, their presence looming like shadows. I sighed heavily, pulled my key from my purse, and opened the door. I paused for a moment, looking back at them one last time, trying to process everything before stepping inside the house.

I didn't rush into my room right away; that wasn't part of my plan. I was determined to get myself out of this situation as quickly as possible. I cautiously peeked through the doorhole, my heart racing as I waited for them to drive away. The moment their car disappeared from sight, I counted to almost two minutes, gathering my thoughts and nerves before stepping outside. I hailed a taxi, my mind set on the police station, knowing I couldn't let Carlos dictate my life. I wasn't going to sit back and allow him to impose rules on me. I might not have control over everything, but I knew the police could help me regain my freedom.

The drive to the station was short, just a few blocks away from home, but it felt like an eternity as I replayed everything in my mind. As I arrived at the station, I paid the taxi driver, my hands shaking slightly as I fumbled with the money. Once inside, I headed straight to the officer at the front desk, my voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. "I would like to report a crime," I said, trying to maintain my composure.

He looked at me for a brief moment, assessing my behavior before responding, "Good day to you."

"I'm sorry," I stammered, feeling flustered. "I'm just panicking and forgot to greet you properly."

"It's okay, we get that a lot here. Take a seat and tell me what happened," he said kindly, gesturing toward a chair.

I took a seat, my heart pounding as I began to explain, "I'm being forced to marry someone. He's making me marry him against my will."

The officer's expression turned serious. "That's marital coercion; it's a serious crime. How old are you?" he asked, pulling out a notepad and pen.

"I'm twenty-two," I replied, my voice steadying as I realized I was finally speaking to someone who could help.

He wrote it down, then asked, "And how old is the person forcing you?"

"I don't know but I think around late twenties to early thirties."

He documented it, then asked, "Your name and his name?"

"My name is Nala Williams, and his name is Carlos Mendoza," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing anxiety in my chest.

He abruptly halted his writing, his gaze shifting to me with a flicker of concern in his eyes. Sensing the weight of the situation, I continued, "He's very dangerous, I know, but you have to help me here. He's a criminal. He shot someone-it's tragic and horrifying."

The officer put his pen down, the gravity of my words settling in. "I think you should come with me," he said, his tone serious.

"Why?" I asked, my heart racing.

"Well, if he shot someone, then it's a serious offense, and you may need to talk to my senior about it," he explained a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Okay," I replied, nodding slowly. As I walked further with him, we entered an interrogation room. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes locked on Carlos, who was lounging back in his chair with a sinister smirk plastered across his face. My heart plummeted, and a cold wave of fear washed over me; it felt as if my very soul was slipping away.

I turned to the officer for reassurance, but he simply backed away and turned to leave, leaving me feeling increasingly isolated. I was about to follow him out when Carlos growled, "SIT!" His voice was low and menacing, causing me to flinch back in shock, my breath catching in my throat as I stared at him, paralyzed by fear.

I gulped heavily, my heart racing as I contemplated leaving, fully aware that staying would come at a cost. Just as I was about to make my escape, he grunted, "Don't make me repeat myself, Nala!" The weight of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, compelling me to take a step back and comply with his command.

We sat there in an uncomfortable silence for what felt like an eternity, the tension thick in the air. I could feel his intense gaze piercing through me, making it hard to breathe. Finally, he stood up and strode toward me, a scoff escaping his lips. "You snitched on me."

I stole a glance at him, then quickly dropped my gaze to the floor, feeling the heat of embarrassment wash over me. "I had no choice," I replied quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He scoffed again, his tone unnervingly calm. "You did have a choice, but you chose the wrong thing."

"I was just trying to protect myself," I managed to say, desperation creeping into my voice.

"From what exactly? Me?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied my reaction.

I met his gaze, sensing the storm brewing beneath his composed facade. "From..." I started, but the words caught in my throat. I took a deep breath, summoning my courage, and continued, "From you."

In an instant, his expression darkened, and he turned my chair to face him directly. Leaning in closer, his voice dropped to a low, intense whisper. "You don't need protection from me, Nala. The only thing you need is me. Though, I have to admit, I expected this from you, so I'm letting it slide this time. But next time- well, there won't be next time because you dare not report me to anyone." He stated, his voice breaking the thick air between us "You have to understand that I am the king around here. I own this damn place, the police, soldiers, absolutely any damn authority is under me, no one can bring me down Nala."

He pulled away from me, turning to leave, but just before he could fully walk away, a surge of determination coursed through me. I gathered my courage, feeling the weight of everything I had been holding back, and finally spoke the words that had been stuck in my throat. "I don't want to marry you."

He paused and turned to look at me, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Well, you have no choice because you're in this with me-you're trapped with me forever. You're a prisoner of my love and there's nothing you can do about it." His voice was cold and unyielding. With that, he slammed the door shut behind him, the sound echoing in the silence that followed as he walked away, leaving me sitting there, heart racing and mind reeling from the confrontation.