The Vittori Claim

P.s: the whole book will be in Ariana's pov.

I always knew the streets of Naples could swallow a girl whole. As I tightened my jacket around my waist and exited Trattoria della Nonna through the back door, that thought drifted through my head. Garlic, smoke, and wet pavement's well-known aroma lingered in the atmosphere. It was too dark at over midnight for anyone like me to still be out walking. But what choice did I have? I needed the job. I needed every cent I could possibly earn. Home wasn't very distant. Only five blocks through cracked sidewalks, past the rusted out market stalls and the bakery with the broken neon sign. Five blocks I could slide into our collapsing flat and pretend, only for one night, that my life wasn't hanging by a thread and everything was perfect. Still, I found myself feeling uneasy swirling in my stomach. It started half-way through my shift, immediately after I went outside to toss the trash and noticed a sleek black car idling across the road. Not exactly rare for places like this. Wealthy travelers often set up residence nearby. But this one had such dark tinted windows that I could not see anything inside at all. No motion. No sound. Simply there observing. When I exited an hour later, it vanished. But the impression it left behind was not. Keeping my stride rapid as I fixed the straps of my backpack, which was full of half-stale bread and leftovers the Nonna had given to me with a pitiful smile. From a rooftop, water dripped; shadows swirled amid street lamps. Every little noise startled me; I was thoroughly terrified. I glanced back over my shoulder. Empty street. No headlights. No feet. Still, I felt it. That burden. That impulse. Someone is watching.

I murmured to myself, "Get a grip, Ari." I folded my hair into my scarf as I passed the florist's dim window. Perhaps i was just tired. Perhaps I was making things up. I had hardly slept the previous evening; my mother had another coughing fit this morning. My younger brother, Dean, was behind on school payments once again; I was late on paying for rent and many other bills. All throughout my life, I was always trying to just barely make it. People like me lacked time for fear. Surviving kept us too engaged. Then why did it seem like I was walking straight into danger?

Behind me, a soft noise. I stopped cold. Footsteps. Not mine. Not resonant vibrations. Real. Heavy. Close. Heart in my throat, I turned slowly.

"Hello?" I muttered. Quiet. I almost yelled as a cat shot from behind a garbage can. Exhaling, I gripped my chest feeling relief. "Okay. I'm just Overreacting."

I had to keep moving. Two more blocks and I am home. The sound once more. Louder. quicker. I immediately turned around, but I was not alone this time. Emerging from the alley was a man in black with a hood shadowing his face. My heart throbbed inside my chest.

"Back off!" I yelled, striving to come across as braver than I felt, but I knew I was afraid. No response. Another person came behind me. I tried to run, but a strong arm caught me from behind, dragging me back like I weighed nothing. I screamed, but a gloved hand muffled it.

"Easy," a low voice said. "Don't battle, ragazzi." (girl)

My fear surged. I kicked, thrashed, and bit his hand. Until I tasted something metallic blood, Something struck my temple.A cold, strong punch shattered the world into pieces and sent lightning across my skull. An exhale of pain. Darkness then descends. With the taste of metal in my mouth and the excruciating throb of discomfort at the back of my head, I woke slowly. The air was far too still. Too quiet. And wrong. I no longer stayed outside. No, this place smelled like expensive cologne and leather. My arms were tied behind me, my body rested on something soft velvet possibly. My ankles also. My brain was a whirling of worry and uncertainty. I woke up to see faint golden light, a chandelier gleaming above, and the most magnificent room I had ever seen. Marble floors, gold trim, and thick curtains that cost more than my rent for a whole year. Certainly not a hospital. not a police station. And definitely not home. Terror swept through me. Where are I?

Why am I here?

What is going on?

My eyes followed the door after a heard a delicate click. Three guys entered. I let out a little breath when I saw the one in the center. He seemed apart. He didn't walk like a bodyguard or a thug.He moved as though he had ownership over the ground he walked on. Dark tailored suit. Black shirt underneath it. Dark, unreadable eyes. A chiseled jawline that was probably as sharp as a machete. Under his collar vanished a tattoo coiled under his jaw. The type of guy whose presence sent your blood boiling and cold at the same time. He didn't look at me. He simply stood there, a slight frown on his lips. He then looked toward one of the men next to him.

"This is not her."

My heart pounded in my ears. What?

The man said swiftly, "She matched the profile, alone, right height, right age-"

"This isn't her," the suited man said, his voice silky but tinged with ice.

Dread sinking like lead in my stomach, I turned to look at him. Who are you people? What do you want from? I wanted to ask but knew better not too.

Then he uttered those words that froze me to the bone.

"Get rid of her."

My heart stopped. One of the men reached into his coat and stepped forward.

“What is happening?” I cried.