The Billionaire Mafia's Captive

ELENA'S POV

A stack of printed papers slammed onto my desk, scattering my neatly arranged highlighters and knocking over a half-empty cup of cold coffee.

"Explain this to me, Elena. Right now," a voice boomed, sharp and full of arrogance.

I didn't even have to look up to know who it was. Marcus Vance, our managing editor at the LA Chronicle, was standing over my cubicle, his face red with rage. He was the kind of boss who wore a five-thousand-dollar suit but had the manners of a stray dog. When he was upset, everyone in a ten-mile radius knew about it.

"Marcus, I can explain..." I started, lifting my hands defensively.

"You can explain?" he shouted, cutting me off as he snatched a few pages off my desk and flung them violently onto the floor.

"The Daily Voice just published the entire Westside corruption scoop. It's the lead story on every major news feed in the state. Millions of clicks in less than an hour! And it was supposed to be our exclusive. You were put in charge of the draft. It was sitting right in your care!"

"The source went dark on me at the last second," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the hot wave of humiliation washing over me. "I had to verify the records before publishing. I couldn't just run a story of that scale without checking the facts."

"And while you were busy playing perfect little detective, our biggest rival stole the story right out from under your nose!" Marcus leaned down, slamming his palms onto the desk divider, getting right in my face.

"Is this because of that national award you won last month? Did that TV interview go straight to your head? Because if you think you can slack off just because you got a little recognition, you're dead wrong."

"I am not slacking off," I muttered, my hands clenching under the desk.

"Listen to me carefully, Voss," Marcus growled, pointing a finger directly at my nose.

"You lose us another lead like this, you won't just be severely punished. You will be packing your desk in a cardboard box before lunch. Do you understand me?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and stormed back toward his private glass office, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the partitions.

The entire open-plan newsroom went dead silent. I could feel every single pair of eyes on me. I looked around the sea of cubicles. Most of my coworkers looked away quickly, but two people caught my attention immediately.

Jaden was sitting three desks down. He was my ex-boyfriend, a fellow reporter who had broken my heart into a million pieces when I found out he was cheating.

Right now, he was looking at me with a conflicted expression. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't pitiful either. He just looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

Sitting right next to him was Chloe, the very girl he had cheated on me with. Unlike Jaden, Chloe wasn't trying to hide her emotions. She was grinning like a Cheshire cat, her eyes full of pure malice. She hated me because my pieces always got better placement on the site. To her, my public downfall was the best part of her morning.

I couldn't breathe in there. I needed to get away from the staring eyes and the toxic air.

I grabbed my phone and walked quickly toward the emergency exit stairs at the back of the building. It was the only quiet place where I could clear my head. My chest felt tight, a mix of anger and sheer frustration boiling under my skin. I needed to talk to someone who felt like home.

I dialed Zara's number. It rang all the way to voicemail. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

Zara worked as a corporate banker, and her branch had a zero-tolerance policy about having personal calls on the transaction floor. I knew she couldn't answer while she was handling client accounts.

But I still needed a distraction.

I decided to call Ricky Davis, Zara's ex. They shared custody of my beautiful three-year-old goddaughter, Maya, and I knew she was staying with him this weekend.

Ricky answered on the second ring. "Hey, Elena! What's up?"

"Hey, Ricky," I said, forcing my voice to sound lighter than it actually was. "Just taking a quick break at work. Is my favorite little girl around?"

"She sure is. We're just finishing up some pancakes," Ricky chuckled. "Hold on, let me hand her the phone. Maya, look who it is! It's Auntie Elena."

A second later, a sweet, high-pitched voice filled my ear. "Auntie El!"

A genuine smile finally broke across my face, the heavy weight in my chest lifting instantly. "Hi, my little princess! What are you doing today?"

"Eating pancakes with strawberries!" Maya giggled, chewing loudly. "Daddy made them into a smiley face. When are you coming to play with my blocks?"

"Very soon, baby. I promise. You eat all your strawberries for Daddy, okay? I love you."

"Love you too, Auntie El! Bye-bye!"

She handed the phone back to Ricky, and I thanked him for letting me speak to her, and hung up. Hearing her voice always reminded me of what actually mattered in life. Work was just work.

Just as I locked my phone, it began to vibrate in my palm. Zara's name flashed across the screen. I answered it immediately.

"Elena! Oh my god, I saw your missed call," Zara whispered frantically. I could hear the faint, echoing acoustics of the bank's executive restroom in the background.

"I had to literally sneak away from my desk and run to the bathroom just to call you back. The branch manager is on a total warpath today about our numbers. Are you okay? It's unlike you to call during work hours."

"Marcus just ripped me apart in front of the entire office," I confessed, the bitterness returning to my voice. "We lost the Westside lead to the Daily Voice. He threatened to fire me, Zara. He literally threw papers on the floor like a child."

"That absolute piece of garbage!" Zara hissed through the phone, her voice dripping with protective fury. "I swear, if I didn't have a kid to feed, I would walk out of this bank, drive over to your office, and shove his expensive watch down his throat. Don't let him get to you, El. You are the best writer they have. He's just taking his own failures out on you."

"I know," I sighed, leaning my head against the cold concrete wall of the stairwell. "It just hurts. I worked so hard on that piece."

"Listen to me. We are going to get tacos tonight, we are going to open a bottle of cheap wine, and we are going to trash-talk Marcus until we feel better. Okay? Just breathe. I have to run before they think I went missing from the floor, but I love you."

"Love you too. See you tonight."

Hanging up, I felt a little better. Zara always knew how to ground me. We were more than best friends, we were sisters.

I pushed the heavy metal door open and stepped back into the quiet hallway leading toward the main newsroom. I took a deep breath, preparing myself to face the whispers and the stares again.

But as I walked past the dark alcove near the old archives room - a corner of the floor that was rarely used since everything went digital, I heard a strange sound. It was a heavy, ragged gasp, followed by the unmistakable friction of fabric rubbing against a wall.

Curiosity overrode my anger. I stepped closer, peering around the shadowy corner. I was shocked.

Jaden was bending against the wall, his hands firmly gripping Chloe's hips. Her skirt was pulled up high around her thighs, and her shirt was completely unbuttoned, exposing her lacy black bra. She was pinned between Jaden's body and the concrete, her head thrown back as his mouth devoured her neck. Jaden was groaning, his fingers digging deep into her skin, lifting her slightly as she wrapped one leg tightly around his waist.

A wave of pure disgust washed over me. This was the man I had loved for two years. This was the man who used to look at me with devotion, now aggressively pinning another woman in a dark office hallway.

I let out a sharp, involuntary scoff of irritation.

The sound cut through the quiet corner like a gunshot. Jaden's head snapped up instantly. His eyes widened in absolute shock when he saw me standing there. He let go of Chloe so fast she almost lost her balance, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

She stumbled back, quickly pulling her skirt down and clutching her open shirt over her chest. Her flushed face twisted from passion to surprise.

Both of them stood frozen in the dark corner, completely breathless, staring at me like they had just seen a ghost.

Chloe didn't look ashamed at all. Once the shock wore off, her lips curled into a smug, mocking smile. She slowly ran her fingers down the front of Jaden's shirt, deliberately gripping his collar to rub the intimacy in my face.

Jaden, however, looked completely frozen. His chest was heaving, his face pale as he stared at me, his eyes wide with a mix of guilt and sheer panic.

"Well, you can't really blame us, Elena," Chloe said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she leaned back against Jaden's chest. "We just can't stay away from each other. Some people just know how to satisfy a man."

I looked at her, then at Jaden, feeling absolutely nothing but a deep sense of irritation. The love I used to have for him felt like a distant, stupid memory.

"Whatever," I said, my voice flat and completely bored. "I don't really care what you two do. Just remember this is an office. Have some respect for yourselves and learn how to keep your hands to yourselves while you're at work."

I didn't wait to see the smugness fade from Chloe's face. I turned on my heel and walked straight back to the main newsroom.

I sat down at my desk and took a deep, steadying breath. I wasn't going to let a toxic boss or a cheating ex ruin my life. I decided right then to bury myself in my work and forget about the drama. I needed a win, and I needed it today.

"Hey, don't let him get to you."

I looked up to see Talia, a cheerful, sweet-faced reporter whose cubicle was right next to mine. She was leaning over the partition, holding out a small bag of gummy bears with a sympathetic smile.

"Thanks, Talia," I said, taking the candy with a small smile.

"We all know how grumpy Marcus gets when a rival beats us to a story," Talia whispered, rolling her eyes toward his glass office. "He's a nightmare, but you're the best writer here. Everyone knows it. Just shake it off."

"I'm trying," I admitted. "I just need to find something massive to make up for the loss."

"You will," Talia said encouragingly before turning back to her own computer.

I opened a blank document on my screen and pulled up my private archive folders. I decided to focus entirely on a lead I had been following for weeks. It was a highly sensitive, dangerous case involving mysterious disappearances near the shipping ports - something the police were clearly keeping quiet, but multiple local headlines had hinted at. Nobody knew the true scope of what was happening down there.

If I could uncover the truth behind this case, I wouldn't just get back in Marcus's good books, I would prove to myself that I belonged at the top. I lost myself in the data, tracking timelines, police reports, and shipping manifests.

Hours flew by.

The clatter of keyboards around me slowly faded as people packed up their things. By 6:00 p.m., the office was mostly empty. Normally, everyone rushed out the door on a Saturday to enjoy the weekend, especially since we didn't work on Sundays. But tonight, both Talia and I stayed behind. She had a mountain of weekly reviews to finish, and I was completely glued to my research.

By 7:00 p.m., the newsroom was dead quiet, the overhead fluorescent lights hummed softly in the silence.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed on the desk.

I picked it up, expecting a text from Zara about our taco plans. Instead, it was an encrypted message from an unknown number. My heart skipped a beat as I read the words on the screen:

"I saw your interview last month. I know you're a journalist who actually cares about the truth, not just clicks. I have the missing pieces for the port disappearances case you've been looking into. I have names and files. But I won't send them digitally. Meet me tonight at 8:00 p.m. at Pier 14. I can't trust anyone else, so come alone. If you bring anyone with you, I walk."

My hands grew cold against the phone casing. Pier 14 was a distant, isolated location down at the docks, far away from the civilized, well-lit parts of the city.

I stared at the screen, my mind racing. It was already late. The office was empty, and I hadn't told anyone about this. Should I really go down there alone in the dark?

But the thought of losing another massive exclusive, Marcus's threats and Chloe's mocking smile pushed the fear away. This was my chance.

"Elena? Are you okay?"

I jumped slightly, looking over at Talia. She was packing her laptop into her bag, watching me with a worried expression. "You look completely lost. What's going on?"

"I think I just got a massive lead on the port case," I whispered, showing her the phone screen. "But the source wants to meet tonight. At eight."

Talia frowned, stepping closer to my cubicle. "Tonight? Elena, it's Saturday night and everyone has already left. You shouldn't go down to the docks alone at this hour. Can't it wait until tomorrow morning?"

"No," I said, shaking my head as I began gathering my notebook and press badge. "The source might think I'm not trustworthy if I don't go. I can't miss this opportunity."

Talia sighed, clearly uneasy, but she knew how determined I could be. "Alright. Just please be careful. Text me the second you get there, okay?"

"I will. Promise," I said with a small smile.

We walked down to the parking garage together, the concrete structure echoing with our footsteps. Talia walked me to my sedan and offered one last worried look. "Are you sure about this? I can drive down there with you."

"Don't worry about it," I said, giving her a reassuring smile. "The source specifically said to come alone. I don't want to compromise the meeting. If they see two people, they might get spooked and run."

"Okay. Good luck, El." Talia waved, walking over to her own car.

I climbed into the driver's seat, letting out a breath. I inserted the key into the ignition and turned it.

The engine let out a pathetic, clicking whine, but it didn't start.

I frowned, turning the key back and trying again. Nothing. Just a dead, hollow click. The battery was completely gone.

"Perfect. Just perfect," I muttered, slamming my hands against the steering wheel in frustration. Time was ticking. It was already 7:35 p.m., and the docks were a twenty-minute drive away.

I couldn't afford to waste time waiting for a tow truck.

I grabbed my purse, hopped out of the car, and pulled up a ride-sharing app on my phone. Luckily, a cab was only two minutes away.

Twenty minutes later, the cab dropped me off at the entrance to the industrial sector of the docks. The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror with pure skepticism. "You sure you want to get out here, lady? There's nothing but old warehouses."

"Yes, this is fine. Thanks," I said, paying him and stepping out into the chilly night air.

The cab sped away, its red taillights disappearing around the corner, leaving me standing there. The pier was dead quiet. The only sound was the distant, rhythmic lapping of the dark ocean water against the concrete pillars. Thick shadows stretched across the empty asphalt, illuminated only by a few flickering, yellow street lamps.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the anonymous number as I began walking down the lonely, unpaved path toward Pier 14. The phone rang once. Twice.

Suddenly, a loud, echoing gunshot shattered the silence right behind me.

I froze instantly, the phone slipping slightly in my sweaty palm.

I heard the gunshot before I saw anything.

It broke the quiet - sharp and loud, my body froze right away. For a moment, I couldn't breathe or think or move. Then, almost automatically, I turned around.

A man hit the ground hard.

My eyes widened as I saw him lying twisted on the cold concrete, dark blood slowly spreading beneath him. My heart pounded as reality hit me. Then I noticed two men fighting, under the flickering streetlamps. One was tall, and moved with control and precision. His face was clean and striking, with a sharp jawline and dark hair a bit messy from the fight.

He had a firm grip on the other man's collar, pulling him forward and then punching him hard in the face. The sound made me flinch. The other man stumbled but stayed on his feet, attacking back with wild swings, clearly desperate. They struggled, their boots scraping the rough ground, heavy breaths mixing with hard punches. I couldn't look away, even though all I wanted was to run.

The man being beaten suddenly reached for something at his waist. A gun. My stomach dropped when I saw it. His fingers gripped the gun, pulling it out and aiming it. But before he could shoot, another gunshot rang out from the corner. It hit his head. His head jerked back, and then his body collapsed, lifeless.

Silence fell. My chest rose and fell fast as I stared at the two bodies lying still. Two men were dead just like that. I couldn't believe it.

Slowly, my eyes shifted to the man who fired. He still stood with his arm extended, the gun steady in his hand, like it was second nature. He was too calm. He had dark hair and sharp features. His face would have been perfect if not for the coldness in his eyes. Those eyes met mine and everything inside me froze.

It wasn't just that he saw me, it felt deeper. Like I had walked into something I wasn't supposed to, and now there was no going back. A cold shiver ran down my spine.

Run.

The thought hit me hard and fast, breaking through the shock. So I ran. My feet pounded the ground unevenly, I was panicking. My breath came in sharp gasps, chest tight as I forced myself forward.

What did I just see? Who are they? Why was I here? Why did I follow that lead? Questions flooded my mind as I ran.

"Get her."

The voice came from behind - low, and commanding. My heart nearly stopped.

What would they do to me now? I pushed harder, ignoring the burning in my legs and running blindly. The path was unclear, and my mind was spinning too fast to think.

I heard footsteps behind me, closing in fast. Tears blurred my vision as fear gripped me completely. My thoughts raced and crashed.

Am I going to die? Is this how it ends? I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have followed that lead. I shouldn't have...

The footsteps got closer. I could hear them right behind me. I tried to scream, but a hand covered my mouth. Another arm grabbed me, pulling hard.

"No...!" I barely managed to say. I fought and kicked, but it was pointless. He was too strong. The grip tightened, holding me firmly.

I tried to breathe, but the air wouldn't come right. My vision blurred, the world tilting wildly.

No. No, please...

My strength faded no matter how much I struggled. My movements slowed, my body giving in as darkness crept in. Faces flashed through my mind.

I thought of Zara. Her loud, unapologetic laughter. How she always said I was stubborn.

"Elena, your curiosity will get you in trouble someday."

Her little daughter, Maya. Her tiny fingers holding mine, her bright smile lighting up everything.

"Aunty El!" she'd always call.

My chest tightened painfully. I thought of my work. My stories, all I still wanted to do. I wasn't ready. I wasn't...

Darkness swallowed me.

******

ZARA'S POV

I turned slowly in front of the bedroom mirror, checking my outfit. I had put on my favorite dark jeans and an emerald-green silk blouse.

Looking at my reflection, I had to admit I still looked good. Even though I was a mother now, my body still kept the curves I was always proud of, showing my narrow waist, full bust, and wide hips. Having a baby changes your body completely, but tonight, I felt confident and attractive. I still got it.

I loved Maya more than anything in the world, but as I looked around the quiet house, I felt a wave of relief. She was spending the weekend with her father, Ricky. At least, I didn't have to worry about bedtime stories or cooking her favourite meals. Tonight belonged entirely to me and my best friend. We were going to eat as many tacos as we wanted and drink mimosas and margaritas until we were completely full.

If we finished early, I was definitely going to drag Elena to that new lounge downtown. She had been working so hard at the newspaper lately, and her toxic boss, Marcus, was always stressing her out. She needed a fun night out just as much as I did.

I reached for my lipstick on the vanity, but then I caught sight of the clock on my nightstand.

7:52 p.m.

"Oh, no," I muttered, dropping the lipstick.

I had completely lost track of time while doing my hair.

Elena and I had a rule to always meet up at 8:00 p.m. whenever we went to Casa de Fuego, our favorite taco restaurant. The place was always packed on Saturdays, and if you were late, the host would give your table away to someone else within five minutes.

Elena was always punctual, so I knew she was probably already parking her car, waiting to scold me for being late again.

I snatched my purse and my car keys off the dresser and ran down the stairs, heading straight out the front door.

When I got to the driveway, I couldn't help but smile when I saw my second baby. My beautiful, shiny black SUV was parked under the streetlights. I felt proud every single time I looked at it. It had taken me years of working hard at the bank and making tight monthly payments to fully pay it off, but it was worth every cent. It was mine, and it was beautiful.

I hopped into the driver's seat, started the engine, and quickly drove out of the neighborhood toward the main road.

By the time I hit the main highway, the clock on my dashboard read 8:12 p.m. I frowned a little, looking down at my phone on the passenger seat. It was weird that Elena hadn't called or texted me yet to ask where I was.

I tapped her name on my car's Bluetooth screen to call her.

The line rang and rang, but it went straight to voicemail. I sighed and shook my head. "Come on, El, pick up."

I waited through a few traffic lights and tried calling her a second time. The result was exactly the same. The phone just kept ringing until the automated voicemail message started playing. I figured she was probably just driving, or maybe she was already inside the noisy restaurant trying to hold our table.

Something felt off. I increased my driving speed, and decided to trust that I would see her waiting when I get there.