radicalducati 2.4
2.4
Angelina’s POV
“Mom! I’m home!” I said as I closed the front door behind me and double locked it out of habit.
I shrugged off my leather jacket, hung it on the wooden hanger by the front door, and went into the direction of my small room, itching to change my clothes into my comfy pajamas and planning to trap my mom into making me her delicious hot chocolate. Not that she needed to be thoroughly convinced to do something for me, I only needed to ask and she would do anything I wanted in a heartbeat.
I opened my bed room door only to freeze in my tracks. Dread that I’ve never felt before in my entire life, coursed through me like a flood.
A scene I would never be able to erase from my head until the day I die took place in a matter of ten seconds.
That’s exactly how long it took to make this memory, the single most painful memory I’ll forever live through and never get past. That’s how long it took for that one single moment to scar me, change me, and kill me from the inside.
A masked man, who was hiding behind my bedroom door, grabbed for me and clasped his huge hand against my mouth to keep me from uttering a word or making a sound while his other one held both my hands behind my back.
All my training, all my fighting instincts died right there as terror at what I saw in front of my very eyes, paralyzed me in place, killing whatever chance I had to fight back with it.
Another masked man was holding a silencer gun against my mom’s head as she was kneeling on the ground, in the middle of my room, in front of me, staring at me with silent tears streaming down her face.
I didn’t have time to think, to beg, to move, to do anything to prevent what happened next from tearing my heart into a million pieces.
The masked man holding my mom at gun point pulled the trigger, and I watched my mom fall down to the ground with her eyes still open wide, lifeless, dead.
That very moment I snapped from my frozen state as I thrashed against the man holding me viciously, closing my eyes, willing my body to wake up because that cannot be true. Praying with all my might that it is not true and that I was just having a nightmare.
The hand that was tightly clamped over my mouth; preventing me from screaming in pain as my heart caught fire at the realization that I was never going to wake up because this wasn’t a bloody nightmare and that what just happened was very very real, tightened it’s hold on me, almost to a suffocating point.
I opened my eyes and tried my hardest to crawl over to where my mom was laying on the ground, a large pool of blood around her head starting to soak my small ragged carpet.
I fought like hell, but I still couldn’t get to her.
It didn’t matter that she was dead, I still wanted to get to her, to hold her, to smell her, but I couldn’t do any of those things.
A muffled pain failed scream erupted from me that I couldn’t contain within me any longer.
The other masked man; who pulled the trigger and killed my Hope, killing me from the inside as a result, pulled a napkin from his jacket pocket and replaced the first man’s palm around my mouth, forcing me to inhale from the wet napkin.
I had no power left as I felt all my senses begin to react to the drug that must have been spilled onto the napkin to make me fall asleep.
I lost control of all my limbs but somehow my mind still worked and that’s when I realized a very important thing.
This couldn’t have been a robbery because this neighborhood was pretty poor and all its people barely had anything worth stealing to attract any thieves.
This was planned.
And that meant one thing.
My father.
He found us.
He ordered them to kill her to pay for running away from him and hiding me all this time.
My eyes closed and I prayed I would never wake up again after that.
I prayed they would kill me too instead of taking me to him because I would truly rather die than be taken to him.
I prayed like hell that god will have mercy on me, rewind time, and give me another chance to save the one person I cannot live without in this world.
But god didn’t listen to me. He didn’t care.
I woke up several times in the next two days, only to be put down to sleep again and again in the same manner, drugged.
During the several times I managed to regain consciousness in, I gathered as many information as I can about where exactly we were going and if there was any chance to ditch these guys and save myself from meeting the father who ordered my mother to be killed right in front of me. They could have killed her as soon as they found her, but they were obviously waiting for me to do that, and I will bet on anything that he ordered it that way. He wanted me to carry that memory with me as long as I live and that in itself filled me with unbearable rage and hatred for him.
I spent most of these two days in the same place, a storage room on a huge boat traveling through sea to Alaska. Somehow, they paid someone on the boat to hide us inside that storage room and lock us inside to prevent any chances of me getting out and alerting anyone that I was kidnapped against my well.
The first few times I regained consciousness in, I wasted no time as I hit and attacked them blindly, trying desperately to escape, but they were always prepared for me, and would put me back to sleep again immediately after confirming that I wasn’t going to cooperate with them.
After they gave up on playing nice with me the first couple of times, I woke up after that to find my wrists cuffed behind my back to prevent me from moving or attacking. I considered screaming for help but decided against it as it was futile and I decided to play nice and start gathering information about where the hell we where headed to.
They barely kept me awake for no more than ten minutes during those two days, making sure I drink some water and have something to eat. They allowed me to use the inner bathroom of the storage room to pee and then they would drug me back to sleep. I tried many times to convince them that I won’t do anything and that they didn’t have to drug me again, but they wouldn’t listen to me.
I tried asking them why they were taking me to Alaska when I knew that I was supposed to be traveling to Canada, and they were generous enough to explain it to me.
They couldn’t transport me to Canada using the usual official border points because one, I was kidnapped and they didn’t want to risk me opening my mouth somehow and getting them caught by the police even if they managed to hide me well, and two, my father has so many powerful enemies both in America and Canada who also have people of authority in their pockets; including people on border check points, and Zade didn’t want anyone recognizing his own two men and figuring out that I was related or important to him in anyway or they would use me to get to him. And that’s why he had to smuggle me away from any eyes using a very discreet, long process.
They told me about a secret mountain road between two Alaskan towns that no one knows about, and that they will be driving through it to smuggle me across Canada without anyone finding out about me.
I didn’t waste time on empty threats, instead, I kept my mouth shut the entire time and vowed to myself that I will wait for the prefect opportunity, catch these two off guard, kill them and make them pay for killing my mom.
My opportunity came the last time I woke up from my deep sleep.
I wasn’t in the storage room anymore, I wasn’t even on the boat.
I was in the backseat of a mountain jeep, handcuffed from behind and secured in place by the seat belt.
My eyes looked at the road through my side window and caught a sign that said ‘Snow 2.5 KM’
I recognized the name of that town from the assholes when they told me all about the road they were going to use to smuggle me through, and I knew this was my last chance to make these killers pay and maybe save myself from meeting that man.
Discreetly and very quietly, my cuffed hands pushed the button to release my seatbelt from its locked place. Thankfully, the handcuffs around my wrists weren’t the usual short handcuffs used by the police. This one had a longer chain, making it easier to use my flexibility and bring my hands under my body so that my wrists were now bound from my front instead of my back.
The man driving must have caught a movement or a sound from me, because he turned his head to check on me the moment my bound hands passed through my legs.
“Hey!” he shouted at me in warning but it was too late. I didn’t even have to think twice about my next move as I automatically used the chain between my wrists to strangle the man sitting in front of me in the passenger seat, it turned out to be the asshole I wanted to kill the most, the one who shot my mom.
I secured the chain around his neck before he even had time to register what the driver was ‘Heying’ about, positioned myself on the floor of the car with my back against the killer’s seat, and used my cuffed wrists to pull on the chain with all my might. The intense tugging was very painful against the skin of my wrists, but I ignored the pain and focused on the kill itself instead as I screamed in bottled up rage and aggression. The killer used his hands blindly to get a hold of me, to stop me from strangling him, but I just pushed myself lower so his hands were catching on thin air. I felt the car swerve to the right before it stopped completely, and I knew the driver was about to drug me again, this time however, I was prepared for that other asshole.
He moved to the back of the car with the damn napkin in his hand, and while my own hands kept a strong pull on the chain, I used my leg to kick the driver in the balls with as much strength as I could manage in that crouched position. It served its purpose well as he howled in pain, clutching his groin and cursing me out in anger.
“You little bitch!”
I tugged harder as ever against the chain, wishing for that bastard to die already while I felt a little blood trickle down my wrists from the intensity of my pulling.
Much to my surprise and misfortune, the driver recovered quicker than I thought and I didn’t have time to avoid his fist as it came down hard on the corner of my mouth, causing the side of my head to hit the passenger door very hard. I lost my strong relentless grip on the chain and the killer wasted no time to grab the chain away from his neck and cough violently, trying to catch his breath again.
Pretty disoriented from the huge blow to the side of my head and the sting on my mouth, the driver yanked me by my hair harshly and pushed me, face first against the backseats’ cushions. He pinned me down by putting his knee against my back painfully and tugged my handcuffs over my head. I was breathing through my pain very hard with gritted teeth, muffling my screams, and cursing myself for failing miserably to end their lives. I was never the violent type, even though I trained in martial arts, but it was mostly learned for self defense purposes and I have never used it before in a real life situation until now. And that’s why I probably failed. Because I didn’t have a killer bone in my body, as much as I truly wanted to kill them at that moment, I still couldn’t.
The driver pinned my wrists back behind me and this time, knotted the long chain around itself, shortening its length considerably, making it impossible to pass my hands from under my body again.
He didn’t even bother to knock me out again as he positioned me back by the window and refastened the seat belt over me.
“You should thank the lord that you are the boss’s daughter, otherwise I would have made you beg for forgiveness over that stupid little stunt you just pulled” the killer I tried to strangle to death snarled at me viciously.
I gave him a satisfied smug smile as my eyes roamed over the bleeding on his neck where my chain tore right through his skin, leaving an almost open cut that he was pressing against with a napkin.
The driver took his seat again without another word and resumed driving like nothing happened.
Before I had time to sulk at my failed attempt, fate threw another chance my way.
We had just swerved away from the official road and started climbing up through the mountain hills that were covered in snow.
“Shit!” the driver hissed in what could only be fear in his tone, before he pressed hard on the brakes, making us slump forward abruptly before the car came to a complete halt.
I looked through the windshield and saw the reason for our sudden stop again.
The unpaved, unmarked route he was driving through was blocked by three black SUVs.
Maybe more than thirty men were surrounding us from all sides with a gun held by every single man I could spot.
“Isn’t that…?” the killer began to say in a shocked tone but couldn’t seem to be able to continue or believe what his eyes were seeing.
Before I could wonder any longer about who he was referring to or why the hell they both seemed scared for the first time, the driver carried on with dread in his voice “Lucas Snow”