Mafias Captive Bride

Daisy POV 

 I woke up with a shock, a chill of fear ran down my spine.  My mind foggy, memories elusive, I struggled to recall the events that led me to this strange, dark place. But my thoughts were shrouded in a haze, like a misty dawn that refused to lift.

As I lifted my heavy head, a wave of dizziness washed over me, like I'd been hit on the head with a hammer, leaving me confused and scared.

My hands instinctively rose to rub the sleep from my eyes, but instead of finding solace in the familiar gesture, my fingers encountered a harsh reality.

A cloth bag enveloped my head, its fabric rough against my skin, making my heart race with terror. Panic gripped me, squeezing my lungs, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. Time suspended, leaving only the eerie silence of the unknown.

The realization dawned on me like a cold splash of water: I was trapped, helpless, and blindfolded. And to make it worse, my hands were bound tightly behind my back, like I was a prisoner. 

The cloth bag seemed to suffocate me, fibers digging into my skin, making my heart race with panic.The world around me was reduced to a suffocating darkness, a prison from which I couldn't escape.

Help! Pls help me! I shouted at the top of my lungs but there was no response. I could only hear my voice echo back at me.

I strained to see but the blackness was impenetrable, a solid wall that refused to yield.

With a Herculean effort, I slowed my racing thoughts and focused on the subtle sounds around me. 

The rustle of fabric, the creak of leather, and the soft thud of footsteps echoed through the space, every sound amplified my anxiety. My ears strained to pinpoint the location of the approaching footsteps, my mind conjuring images of sinister figures lurking in the shadows.

As the door creaked open, the footsteps drew nearer, their rhythmic beat pulsing through my veins like death knell.

My breath caught in my throat, anticipation hanging heavy as a guillotine's blade. The shoes halted beside me,I could sense their presence intensely, yet the silence that followed was more oppressive than any words.

I trembled, my heart thrashing against my ribcage like a wild animal, as I awaited the unknown fate that loomed over me.

As the blindfold was slowly lifted, the dim light of the room pierced my eyes like a dagger. I blinked rapidly, my vision blurry at first, but gradually cleared to reveal a somber scene.

Three men, dressed in their dark suits, crisp white shirts, and somber ties seemed to exude an air of menace, their gold pinky rings and precision-cut hairdos gleaming in the faint light.

By their dress code, the only thing that came to my head was the mafia. When I was younger, I had watched movies and heard stories of the mafia.

But it was the elderly man who approached me with a graceful stride that commanded my attention. His silver hair was slicked back, revealing a prominent forehead and piercing eyes that seemed to bore into my soul.

His tailored suit, a deep charcoal gray, was immaculately pressed, and a gold watch glinted on his wrist, hinting at a wealth and sophistication that was hard to ignore.

The deference with which the other men addressed him, their voices laced with a mixture of respect and fear, left no doubt that he was the boss of this eerie domain. 

I stuttered, my voice laced with confusion and a hint of fear, "Who are you people? What am I doing here? Please just let me go!" My words trembled as I addressed the somber gathering, my eyes darting between the stern faces, searching for a glimmer of empathy.