The Mafia's Rose

Night Terrors

Illyana’s POV

I was in a church, a grand cathedral with soaring arches and stained-glass windows that cast the space in a kaleidoscope of colours. The air was thick with the scent of incense and lilies, a cloying sweetness that made me nauseous. People lined the pews, their faces blurred and indistinct, their whispers a low hum that echoed in the vast space.

And then I saw him. A man, tall and imposing, his back to me, was waiting at the altar. I couldn't see his face, but I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that it was him.

My feet moved before I could stop them, propelled by an unseen force. I was being dragged down the aisle, my arm held in a vice-like grip, the lace of my wedding dress scratching at my skin. Panic welled up inside me, choking me, but I couldn't scream. I couldn't breathe.

As I got closer, the man at the altar turned, and my blood ran cold. His face was obscured by a mask, a grotesque parody of a groom's smile. And in his hand, he held a cage, a gilded cage just big enough for me.

Terror, raw and primal, surged through me. I struggled against the unseen force that held me captive, but it was no use. I was trapped, helpless, hurtling towards a fate worse than death.

I woke with a gasp, my body bathed in sweat, the echo of the nightmare clinging to me like cobwebs. The pale light of dawn filtered through the gaps in my blinds, casting long shadows across the room. It took me a moment to remember where I was, to convince myself that it had all been a dream.

But as I stumbled to the window, desperate for a breath of fresh air, my gaze fell on the street below. Parked across from my building, a sleek black car gleamed under the morning sun. A car I'd never seen before. A car that looked suspiciously out of place in my quiet, working-class neighbourhood.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Was it just paranoia, a lingering echo of the nightmare? Or was there something more to it, something sinister lurking beneath the surface of my quiet Roman life?

I tried to shake off the unease, telling myself it was just a coincidence. But the image of the black car, sleek and predatory, stayed with me as I went about my day. I went through the motions of my usual routine – a quick trip to the market, a stop at the tiny cafe down the street for a cappuccino and a pastry – but my heart wasn't in it. The nightmare, the car, the lingering memory of Alessandro’s intense gaze – it all added up to a feeling of foreboding I couldn't ignore.

The feeling only intensified as I neared the end of my next shift at the hospital. The ER had been relatively calm, a steady stream of minor injuries and seasonal ailments, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. It was as if the air itself was thick with anticipation, the calm before a storm.

"Earth to Illyana!" Sofia's voice cut through my thoughts. "You're miles away. Big date tonight?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, her dark eyes twinkling with amusement. I couldn't help but smile. Sofia had a knack for finding humour in even the most mundane situations, a welcome distraction from the darkness that seemed to follow me.

"No date," I said, shaking my head. "Just… preoccupied, I guess."

"Preoccupied by a certain brooding Italian, perhaps?" she teased, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

I felt my cheeks flush, and I quickly busied myself with gathering my things. "He's not brooding," I mumbled, more to myself than to her. "Just… intense."

Sofia just laughed, her laughter echoing through the mostly deserted nurses' station. "Intense, brooding, same difference. Either way, he's definitely gotten under your skin."

I wanted to deny it, to brush off her words as the usual teasing, but deep down, I knew she was right. Alessandro, with his piercing blue eyes and his aura of guarded vulnerability, had definitely gotten under my skin. And something told me that our paths were far from finished crossing.

As I stepped out of the hospital doors into the cool night air, the feeling of unease returned with a vengeance. The streetlights seemed dimmer than usual, the shadows deeper, the city holding its breath. I quickened my pace, my hand clutching the pepper spray in my bag, a small comfort in the face of my growing fear.

I was halfway to the bus stop when I heard the footsteps. Heavy, purposeful, gaining on me with alarming speed. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath catching in my throat. I didn't need to look back to know I was in danger.

I broke into a run, my bag bouncing against my hip, the sound of my own ragged breathing filling my ears. But the footsteps kept coming, closer now, the sound of heavy breathing echoing my own.

"Help!" I screamed, my voice swallowed by the sounds of the city. "Someone, please help me!"

But the street was deserted, the buildings looming over me like silent sentinels. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw him. A man, tall and wiry, his face obscured by a dark hoodie, was gaining on me, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

Terror lent speed to my steps, but it wasn't enough. He was faster, stronger, and I knew, with a sinking feeling in my gut, that I wasn't going to outrun him.

Just as I felt his hand close around my arm, a voice, cold and sharp as shattered glass, cut through the night.

"Lasciala andare."

The man froze, his grip on my arm loosening slightly. I used the opportunity to wrench myself free, stumbling back until my back hit a brick wall. My attacker hesitated, his gaze darting between me and the source of the voice.

And then I saw him. Alessandro.

He stood a few feet away, his stance wide, his hands clenched at his sides. He wasn't wearing his leather jacket this time, just a dark t-shirt that moulded to his muscular frame, the streetlights glinting off the intricate tattoos that snaked up his arms. His jaw was clenched tight, his blue eyes blazing with a fury that sent a shiver down my spine.

For a moment, no one moved. The air crackled with tension, the silence broken only by the sound of our ragged breathing. And then, with a snarl, the man who had been chasing me turned and disappeared down a side street, melting into the shadows as if he'd never been there at all.