Entrapped By The Devil

[25 YEARS AGO]

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"Spare us, please! We didn't do anything. Quel ragazzo mente! Mente tra i denti. We didn't do anything. Let us go, please, sir, andiamo a casa!"

[That boy lies! He lies through his teeth. Let us go!]

The woman sobbed while the bunch of men standing across the room with her lover bleeding profusely on their feet stared blankly at her. Patiently waiting to hear what they all were gathered there for, and not just another string of lies that she couldn't stop spouting.

A little boy of about 10 years old was forced to see the poignant moment unfolding in front of him, trembling in his little worn-out sneakers and swallowing hard every time his little eyes were drawn to the bleeding man waiting to be helped. Unfortunately, no one in the room appeared to be in a hurry.

Sofia, you're wasting our time!" The man on the couch grumbled. He was the only one in the room with the authority to spit commands around. His legs were crossed, and the tip of his exorbitant shoe thrummed in the air. Patient, yet on the brink of giving up. "Sai cosa vogliamo. E più tempo impieghi, più difficile sarebbe salvare il tuo uomo. "

[You know what we want. And the longer you take, the harder it will be to save your man.]

"But...but...how can I? I didn't...I-"

"Cut off his limbs!" The man on the couch yelled angrily at his men. One of them stood up and pulled a machete from his back, the cruel grin curled on his villainous face only made Sofia swallow harder.

The little boy's eyes widened for the hundredth time that day. He knew the man on the couch wasn't bluffing based on what he'd witnessed since this vile interrogation began.

"NO!" Sofia shouted, shaking her head violently. Attempting to get back on her feet, but her injured leg refused to comply. "Please, please, please. I beg you. You can't do it. The boy is lying. How can you believe him? He's only a kid!" She kept weeping, but the man on the couch became increasingly annoyed and bored.

"Now!" The man on the couch barked out.

The machete flew into the air on his one word. Two of the other men grabbed the barely conscious man on the floor, his arm extended and his wrist pushed to the floor.

When the sharp blade ripped through the man's fingers and blood sprayed out, Sofia screamed horribly.

The little boy winced, tempted to shut his ears and eyes both. But the man on the couch glared, and the boy compelled himself to watch and hear every second of the ongoing torment.

The unconscious man muttered agonizingly, his body writhing in futility.

Sofia buried her face with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably as she trembled and hitched.

The man on the couch rose to his feet.

With a lazy stride, he carried himself to where Sofia lay.

With the tip of the same shoe, he had been drumming through the air not so long ago, the man lifted the chin of the woman and forced her to look up.

She couldn't do it. Instead, she kept her eyes closed, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Do you know why your man only lost his fingers, darling Sofia?" the man questioned, his voice dangerously low.

The little boy felt the impulse to step forward, a sense of protectiveness easing through his veins. But he was only a little boy. What chance did he have against all those brawny men? Ashamed, his gaze sank to the floor, his fingers curling into fists.

Sofia sobbed softly, her entire body convulsing pitifully.

"Say something, dear Sofia. Or do you want him to lose four fingers more? Is that-"

"NO!" she choked, yanking her eyes open and slinging her arms around the man's legs, howling for mercy. "Let him live. I..I did it. I did it. I killed Enrico and Rosa. I asked Bert to help me get rid of them. I...was blinded by rage. I got stupid and had no idea what I was doing. I plead guilty, Padrino! I plead guilty. Please. Forgive us, Padrino. Forgive him. We'll forever be in your debt. Forever. You have my word on it."

[Godfather]

"Your word has no worth, Sofia," the guy said calmly, gazing down at her with enough intensity to make Sofia scramble backwards. "Not anymore."

The man turned around, and walked past the bleeding man on the floor. Barely sparing him a glance. Barely flinching at the gut-wrenching stench of blood and the gory sight. His footsteps echoed throughout the old and hollow room.

The man slowed down as he approached the little boy. Instead of reminding him that only guilty men refused to look the man in the eyes, he placed his hand on his head.

The boy flinched. Trembled from head to toe. Spine turned into ice.

Despite the boy's worst fears, the hand gently stroked his hair before sliding down to the back of his head and settling on his nape. Huge, frigid fingers wrapped themselves around the column of his neck.

The boy closed his eyes tightly, his arms drooping by his sides, his entire body motionless as a rock.

"Are you happy now?" The man questioned slowly and carefully, his hard gaze narrowing as he lifted the boy's face.

A little hiss escaped his firmly clinched teeth as the boy struggled to breathe.

"Your sister confessed her sins. Are you satisfied now?"

The little boy nodded quietly.

The man scoffed. "She slaughtered your family with no remorse, and you're satisfied with just a few tears from that woman?" He didn't sound happy. "I only met your father once. He saved my life back then. I'm merely repaying him by helping you. And if I'm willing to go to any length to avenge his death, to make the perpetrators pay, what's holding you back? Why are you so easily pleased? You were at my door for two days and three nights. For this? For making your sister confess and cry? Is that all? Where is your dignity? Are you really the child your father was proud to raise?"

The boy swallowed, tears welling up in his eyes. Bloodied corpses and dead eyes flashed before his sight. His fingers tightened even further. So much so that the nails pierced the skin. Blood trickled down his small knuckles.

The man removed his hand from the boy's neck and shook his head.

Glancing over his shoulder, he finally cast a weary glance at the unconscious and profusely bleeding man. He snorted and turned around. "Well, I'm not."

Sofia blanched.

Wide-eyed, the boy gasped.

"Just chop off his head!"

The machete fell on the victim's neck. Blood squirted from the spot where the head separated from the shoulders. Soaking the shirt of the man holding the blade. And the floor.

Sofia sagged to the floor, sobbing even more. Louder. "Bert! No, Bert! No. I'm sorry...baby."

The boy remained stiff, horrified at what he had just seen.

"All right, let's go!" The man spoke in a booming voice. His minions eagerly followed him out.

However, while everyone marched towards the door, all eyes paused for a second and watched with raised brows when slowly the little boy made his way over to his crying sister and stood in front of her.

Sofia felt his presence and raised her head, knowing who he was. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her cheeks were flushed and pallid.

"Brother!" she cried.

"You're crying for Bert," the boy mumbled. The heartbreak in his eyes made Sofia grieve even more intensely. "Did you cry for papa?" he asked. "For mamma? For...for three-year-old, Emma?"

Sofia wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve. She looked him in the eyes. While she spoke, her lower lip trembled. "If Gods gives me another chance, brother..." she whimpered. "I'd do things differently," she said, lowering her gaze to her lap and shaking her head. "All those mistakes I made...I wouldn't...I wouldn't."

"Sofia..." a tear trickled down the boy's face.

"I should have done better. "I should have..." She lifted her head and cupped his face in her palms, her gaze anxiously searching for his. "I should have...I should have murdered those morons myself," she growled, her cruel fingers digging into his face. "I should have stabbed them. I SHOULD HAVE DONE IT MYSELF. I should have killed you with them."

The boy winced, struggling to break free from her chokehold.

Sofia only turned darker. Not only with rage, but hysteria. Something else had shifted deep within her eyes. Something deranged glowed.

"Sofia!" The boy wept, as if trying to wake her up from the nightmare she had become.

"Bert would still be alive if I hadn't spared you. He was the love of my life. And because of you...you shit...he's dead. DEAD!"

The boy recoiled, forcing himself away from her.

"No problem, though. No problem. I would avenge him," she grinned maniacally. "I would kill you and avenge his death. Yeah, baby brother, I'll make you suffer. Just watch. I'll cut you limb by limb. I'm going to dig these eyeballs out and-"

Sofia's mouth dropped open.

Her grip on the boy loosened before she let him go.

Her chin dipped. Another gasp escaped her lips.

The machete had slashed through her chest. Blood poured forth like a fountain.

The boy fell backward and landed on his butt. He didn't stop crawling backwards until his back slammed against the wall. After what he had done, his hands were trembling and his little shoulders heaved.

Sofia looked at the boy, stunned. "You..." she squinted, losing more and more blood. Her vision grew hazy.

"Die!" the boy muttered from across the room, his small body trembling with pure rage. Flushed cheeks. Tears streaming down his own little face. "Mamma, papa...Emma...they all died because of you."

Sofia sputtered blood from her mouth.

"DIE, YOU BITCH! DIE!" He couldn't stop shouting. Screaming. Crying.

"Vector..." Sofia gasped, her eyes falling shut ever so slowly, before she collapsed to the floor, her head crashing first.

As little Vector cried his heart out, the man standing at the entrance watched the entire spectacle with unwavering patience.

The corner of his mouth twisted up in a smirk.

"You know what to do with the bodies, Michael," the man spoke once the show was over.

The boy kept crying, his arms folded around his legs, his face between his knees.

"Yes, boss!" Michael nodded. "What about the boy?"

"Train him," the boss said, his gaze carefully studying the little boy in the room's corner. "From this day onward, he should have only one purpose. To protect my son, Mir, fiercely. And, if necessary, even die for him."

*PRESENT*

[LIZZY]

"Lizzy, my tummy hurts...am I pregnant?"

With my jaw literally dropped on the floor, I watched and wondered with great horror if those words came out of his mouth were real or my fucking imagination.

I can't believe he said that just now. That, too, while stuffing a mouthful of ice cream into his face.

"Joey!" I chided gently, watching as he ignored me and continued to devour the ice cream from the cup while rubbing his small tummy. "Why would you say something like that?" God, I was screwed if Laura was here to hear it. Thank goodness she wasn't home yet.

"Our math teacher, Ms Watson, is taking a leave. She told us during class that she won't be coming for the next three months and that we should behave well when the new teacher arrives."

"Okay? But that didn't answer my question," I pointed out.

"That's because I wasn't done," he frowned, licking at the spoon before neatly placing the cup back on the table.

"Sorry about that. Please continue."

"OK. So, when she left, Maddie, the girl who sits next to me? She said that Ms Watson's tummy had grown over the months and that it must be hurting her so much that she had to take a leave. But then Johnny, the one who sits behind me, leaned over and said, that his mom told him that Ms Watson was pregnant and maybe hurting too, that's why she was taking a leave."

Oh, my God. I couldn't even begin to wrap my head around the way the brains of these kids worked. But that was the concern for another day.

"Joey, for how long has your stomach been hurting?" Pushing the chair back, I rounded the dining table and bent down to inspect the reason for his stomach ache.

He made a face. "Since lunch. I thought about telling you, but then I forgot."

How could someone forget they were in pain?

Don't engage! Don't even dare!

I shook my head. "Joey, you should have told me. We could have visited the doctor," I said, but then I paused.

Fuck, that was probably the reason he didn't tell me in the first place. The last time we went to see the doctor with him having a high fever, he was given a shot. And Joey hated shots more than he hated beans and cats. He once told me that cats were the devil's messengers (don't ask me where he learned it, perhaps from his superstitious grandmother) and that he would rather pet a roach than waste money feeding a cat.

"And you ate the ice cream..." I mumbled to myself, realizing that he probably shouldn't have. This little guy would rather bear terrible stomach pain than give up on his Saturday night treat. This time he demanded to try the Unicorn Vanilla flavour. Speaking of which, I should get rid of any ice cream proof before his parents come. They were oblivious to our secret deal to grab a cup of ice cream when his parents were out partying. It frequently happened on Saturdays, hence the name.

Yeah, pretty creative. I know.

I took a deep breath and exhaled hard through my mouth. "Alright. Come on, I'll fetch you some warm milk quickly. It should be helpful."

Joey leaped out of his chair, his little bare feet landing on the carpeted surface, nodding as though I made perfect sense. "OK."

He took my hand in his small fingers and began leading me up the stairs. As if I were the one with an ache, rather than the other way around.

"Lizzy?" He called once we entered his room and switched on the lights.

"Yes?"

"Can we skip the bath tonight? I don't feel like changing right now," he pouted, turning to face me and biting his bottom lip.

"Why? What's the problem? Is it because of the pain? Joey, please let me know if it hurts too much. We don't need to go to the doctor; I can just call him for any medication you may need."

"No, that's not it."

"Okay, so what is it then?"

"Did you know that only 1.2 percent of the water on Earth is drinkable? We must not waste it. "One shower should be enough."

Now, how the hell was I supposed to convince him otherwise? I couldn't just tell him to forget about the fucking nature. He would be vastly offended. He loved his earth and random facts he gathered from God knows where. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this job after all. I should have taken that job at the café instead.

Sigh.

"Alright. But you need to change your clothes and brush your teeth," I gave him a serious look, and he nodded, relieved. "I'm going to bring you the warm milk and then I'll tuck you into bed. Sounds great?"

"Sounds awesome!"

"Good boy," I grinned and he bounced on his feet. "Now, get to work."

I switched off the lights and walked downstairs after ensuring he had finished the milk and slipped under the sheets. It took me about 10 minutes to tidy up the dining area and wash the dishes.

As planned, I trashed the ice cream cups and stashed them deep in the bin so his mother wouldn't be able to find them. Laura had a keen eye for such details. Nothing could escape her hawk-like stare. It was surprising she hadn't caught us off guard on Saturday night treats. Could you imagine the lecture I'd have to sit through?

Shudders.

Once done with the work, I checked my phone for any messages from Laura or her husband, Daniel. And as I scrolled through the swamp of texts from my neighbour and Peter (a guy from the building across, the one who sends me his dog photos for some really weird reasons), sure enough, there was a text from Laura.

Laura: On our way. Sorry, got held up by some old friends. Has Joey slept?

Laura: Don't worry, Daniel will drop you home. Thanks for tonight, Liz, you really didn't have to.

The Text was sent around a half-hour ago. hey were probably on their way home right now. I contemplated whether or not to respond. But then I realized she must have gotten worried. With a deep breath, I started typing.

Lizzy: It's OK. Joey slept. Take your time. No need to rush."

I had just finished typing when I heard a car pull up outside. They were here.

I slung my bag over my shoulder, crossed the living room, and opened the door before either of them could ring the doorbell. Joey could have been startled. And as I came across Laura's face, the same thought seemed to be passing her face, too.

"Goodness," she exhaled, her lovely smile as bright as ever. "Late, aren't we?"

"It's alright," stepping aside, I cleared the way so she could get in. "How was the get-together?" Laura had been going crazy about this high school reunion for the entire past week. Daniel had shown his reluctance to attend the gathering, but seeing how excited Laura seemed, he probably couldn't gather up the courage to refuse. He was in love with his wife far too much. Something that made me happy and sad all at once.

You miss him.

No. I don't.

Whatever floats your boat.

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I really hated my conscious for being so bluntly honest. Couldn't it sometimes care about my feelings, too? Did it have to take his side always? How unfair was that?

"Ah, it was crazy, don't ask," she shook her head, running a hand through her hair before tossing her purse on the couch. It bounced a few times before settling in one corner. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow."

"Great. Can't wait."

Before I could open my mouth to add and wish her good night, she lifted a finger and cut me off.

"Oh no, not tomorrow. How can I forget?" she sighed, rubbing her temple. "Joey's granny is coming tomorrow. And you know what she thinks about a babysitter and all..." she trailed off as if what she left unsaid was something that I could understand.

She wasn't wrong. I did understand. Joey's granny was of traditional beliefs. She believed in raising kids by their parents only because no one else could understand their needs. Besides, it was necessary for the kid's good mental and emotional growth to have their parents around. She believed people like me-young and unmarried-could probably never understand what it was like to raise a kid.

And even though not all of her beliefs were crappy, sometimes she made this unbearably difficultfor me.

Well, granny, and her old-fashioned beliefs can fuck themselves.

"No problem. I'll take an off tomorrow. I have a few errands to run anyway," I assured her and she returned with her honest, grateful smile.

"Alright. Daniel is waiting outside. You should really go now. And Lizzy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for taking care of Joey tonight. I depend too much on you but...you know, I cannot trust anyone else either, right?"

"Of course," I said with a smile, my chest warming from inside. "See you on Monday!"

----------------

Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in my living room with a glass of wine in one hand and a phone in the other. Paying no mind as I scrolled down Instagram feeds.

Despite my unwillingness, Laura convinced me to sign up. had no idea what she had in mind, but all I did on social media was look through odd cat videos until I was exhausted enough to fall asleep. I didn't even have a profile picture. I didn't even have a profile pic. Or a bio. Everything was purposefully left blank, exactly as my life in the last six years.

I still couldn't believe it had been so long. I'm not even sure how I managed to keep my past buried for so long. Leaving Venice used to seem like a chore at first. To keep my head down and maintain a boring profile. To avoid drawing unwelcome attention. I was afraid he'd find out and come looking for me. Yet, as time passed, I became accustomed to my monotonous lifestyle. I didn't hear anything from him. Nothing, not even the whispers in the dark.

Perhaps I really left him behind.

Or maybe he just forgot about you.

Not helpful!

He was simply a presence in my fantasies these days. It was the time when his shadows would become tangible and he would punish me for what I had done.

Then again, he hadn't shown up even once since I left. Was it possible that he never really cared? I knew, I was the one running away from him-hiding from him-but how difficult could it be for someone of his rank and power? He was a freaking mob man. He would have moved hell and heaven to find me if he truly felt the way I did.

But he didn't.

He didn't.

And as much as it hurt to realize that I was just another woman he needed to warm his bed, I was equally relieved that I finally left that life behind.

It didn't always feel that way, and maybe it was for the best.

I'd always wanted a normal life. But Venice couldn't give me that. My life in Charlotte might be tiresome and monotonous, and I might have a job that I hate with my guts, but at least I owned it. It belonged to no one but myself. And I was fucking proud of that.

[LIZZY]

If it weren't for the loud banging at my door, I could've slept past noon.

But of course, my happiness wasn't a delicious piece of cake everyone could digest.

Hissing at the annoying sound of a fist against my poor wooden door, I forced myself to sit up, only to realize I slept off on the couch itself.

Great. Just what I needed. Note the sarcasm.

With another unwilling groan, I pushed myself off the couch and winced. My feet were soaked with some kind of liquid.

I cringed.

Please don't tell me I peed in my sleep. I wasn't even that drunk. Was I?

But I had to make sure what it was, right? There was no way out of it.

God. This was so embarrassing, even when no one was watching.

A sigh of relief escaped, however, after I finally dared to cut down my gaze. It was just water. I might have knocked the glass over during sleep.

Some more noisy thudding.

"Who set their fucking panties on fire?" Grumbling, I stomped across the living room, trying to see through the blurred vision and fucking surprised when I didn't trip over my heels placed haphazardly on the way.

My head buzzed with the morning grogginess when I wrenched the door open and practically spat on the person on the receiving end. "WHAT?"

The expression on Daniel's face was something akin to a confused dog. But because I was in the bitch mode, instead of letting him speak when he tried to open his mouth, I cut him off real quick. "I thought you didn't want me to come. What the hell, Daniel?"

Fixing me with a glare, Daniel curled his upper lip.

I thought he would say something next. Try to fucking explain why he was beating my door so damn early in the morning. But no. Not Daniel. He simply decided he had enough of my tantrums and pushed past me straight inside the room.

"Lock the door!" he commanded in a hurried voice and practically speed-walked over to the window facing the back alley.

When I stood there, confused, and probably working on another curse word, he glanced over his shoulder and pinched his eyebrows. "What part of lock the door you didn't understand?" He turned his gaze back to the window, trying to be watchful as he attempted to take a peek outside.

I felt my stomach narrow with a knot.

Wait. He was acting weird.

Shutting the door and making sure it was perfectly locked, I made my way over to him. "What's wrong?"

Before answering my question, he drew the curtain back into place, grabbed my upper arm and lugged me to the middle of the room.

"We've been trying to get in touch with you since the morning. Why aren't you answering the phone?" he asked with a frown.

His question caught me off guard a little. But I forced myself to focus on what he was saying. I didn't realize it earlier, but his arrival alone should have been a cosmic sign. Something was not right.

"I-" I tried to recall where my phone was. My gaze flicked to where I had fallen asleep the previous night. And then a certain memory of putting it on the charger darted through my mind.

"Of course," I murmured to myself, before looking back up at him. "It's in my room. On charger. But why is that important?" I asked, growing impatient every second. "Is everything OK? Is Joey OK?" He complained about stomach ache last night. Suddenly, the knot in the pit of my stomach wrung badly.

"Joey is fine!" He sighed, massaging his forehead with his thumb and index finger as if he had grown a terrible headache all of a sudden. Appearing stressed. On edge.

"Daniel, what is going on? I-you're making me nervous."

"See it for yourself." He strode into my room and returned with my phone. Placing it in my hand. "I can't really explain it."

His words fired another wave of queasiness down my chest. While I clenched the phone in my grasp, my hands were shaking.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Why don't you just tell me?" I asked him, my voice faint yet desperate as I stared at my reflection on the black screen of the phone.

"Just see it already!" he was growing frustrated.

Drawing a deep breath, I closed my eyes and curled my fingers firmly around the phone. Why was this suddenly so hard? Why was he not revealing anything? Why the suspense?

While all those questions scurried through my head, I switched on the phone. The screen illuminated with the wallpaper of one of the water channels in Venice. It was a random picture that changed every time I unlocked the phone. But for some reason, the timing of its appearance right now felt like a bad omen.

A chill ran down my spine, and my knees wobbled.

With another in-depth breath, I propelled myself to move past the obnoxious feeling and typed in the four-digit pin. The lock disappeared, giving access to the home page and all the other applications installed. I swiped the screen down, my thumb hovering over fifteen missed calls from Daniel alone. My heart putter-pattered. Nerves shot throughout my body.

This feeling was even worse than that one time a black car drove past me before coming to a halt a decent distance away. I almost expected him to step out. Almost. Thankfully, a couple in their mid-sixties shoved the door open and walked into a flower shop on the other side of the road. The feeling of him finally catching up to me stayed longer than a week with me. It followed me like my own shadow. I couldn't shake off the dread and anxiousness haunting my chest. I couldn't.

"Check out the link I sent you!" Daniel helped, pulling me back to reality.

I did what he said. I tapped on the link he sent me in messages. It took me to a video on a popular social media site. I frowned.

What the hell?

It was nothing I expected.

It was Joey in the video. Flaying his tiny arms as he tried to reach for the plastic shovel I held in my hand, out of his reach. It was a good day; I remembered.

Two days before his fifth birthday, Daniel had brought us to the beach. I had no intention of going, but Laura and Joey had insisted. Especially Joey. The boy made a tremendous fuss to persuade his parents to invite me as well. Of course, Laura was the one to give in first. She couldn't stand the sight of her little boy crying his heart out. It hurt too much. She told me that day on our way to the beach.

The memory almost brought a smile to my face when the camera turned to a woman screaming. His kid had gotten into the water but didn't return. He was only six years old. The people were gathered around her as she explained and begged someone to help.

Despite my better judgment, I watched myself dashing into the water. For a while, no one could spot me as well. They all muttered something to each other. Panicked voices rose in the background. The woman's cries only grew more vociferous and harder. A few more men prepared themselves to follow me. Daniel seemed one of them. But then they all stopped before a loud cheer broke out. I surfaced out of the water with that kid in my arms. As I reached the shore, the woman rushed towards me, almost knocking both of us over, and tugged her son into a tight hug.

I had saved a kid.

But what was the big deal about it?

"You came here all the way to show me this?" I couldn't help and deadpan. Stared at him, hoping to get a plausible answer.

However, instead of saying anything, his scowl only grew severe, his dark eyes on me harder. He was staring at me as if I said he was about to be bald in the next two years. What's with all the glares?

But then, the reason unfolded on me like a fucking lightning bolt.

"Shit!"

Someone had uploaded the video online. Someone had exposed my whereabouts. Someone...

"Shit shit shit!" I panicked, and the phone almost slipped out of my grasp. But Daniel saved it just in time. He saved me just before my knees could drop to the floor.

"It only gets worse," he mumbled next to me, helping me to the couch and entering the kitchen.

He returned with a glass of water.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked him, but it only came out as a whisper. A whisper that trembled pathetically. Something heavy and cold claimed my chest, wriggling all over the place like an earthworm, painting everything with sticky terror.

"The views," he said, taking a seat on the table, facing me and helping me hold the glass of water. "They've crossed millions overnight!"

Another shock bolted down my bones, making me breathless.

"Are you saying...?"

This can't be true. This can't be true.

"You're viral, Lizzy. You've gone fucking viral!"