Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner
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While he searches for justice for the death of his sister, Alejandro, the son of Lorenzo Amato, the head of the Amato mafia clan stumbles upon Arianna, a clueless girl who has no idea what kind of world her parents lived in before their sudden death. Driven by her hunger for revenge when she realises her parents death was not an accident, she uncovers truths that put her in danger, the same that cost her parents their lives. Alejandro hasn’t given up on his pursuit for justice either but is forced to confront budding feelings for his enemy. However, what happens when Arianna’s revenge seems to point her in the direction of Alejandro? Will she be willing to do what it takes or will the heart want what it wants?
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Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner IMPRISONED
My life took a huge turn. I was no longer Victoria the baker. I was Arianna Bocelli, Alejandro Amato’s prisoner.“Let me go.” I dug my feet into the ground as Capello pulled me along, ropes digging into my skin.I’d recovered from my momentary shock and become dangerously stupid as I continued to yell at men who wouldn’t bat an eyelash as they sent me to the world beyond.I was testing their patience really because Capello stopped walking and took off his tie. Who wore a suit to kill? I raised my eyebrow at him, wondering what he was doing. He rolled it up and grabbed my jaw, forcing it open. My eyes widened as I realised what he was about to do. I continued to move my head until I heard a gunshot that kept me still.A warning from Alejandro that wouldn’t be repeated twice. I didn’t even need to be gagged. My hands remained cuffed in front of me as I continued to stay still in the backseat of the car.“Where to Ale?”“Italia.”I didn’t need a translator for that. We were going to Ital
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner DISCOVERED
I screamed as I felt something wet splash against my face. Blood but it wasn’t mine. Apparently, I wasn’t that ready to die. My shoulders hurt from the force of the body that had hit me.‘Wait, why wasn’t I dead yet?’ I looked around. The guy who’d held the trigger was on the floor by my side, eyes wide open in fear.Fibonacci was on his feet barking out orders, trying to figure out where the hit came from.Bullets began to rain from all sides and I ducked, just as Anselmo had taught me. The side of my head felt slippery to touch but I’d take concussion over splattered brain matter any day.When no one else dropped dead in the room I was in, I realised most of the gunshots and screams were from outside.‘Had I been saved? Perhaps by an angel’ Somehow, in the heat of things, I’d found the thought quite amusing.The door was forced open and two men came in. All that commotion outside because of two men?“Andrea, drop your weapons on the floor.” A deep voice boomed in the dark. The room
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner MAMMA MIA!
ARIANNA’S POV.“Don’t be rude!” I rolled my eyes at the lady in front of me who wanted a coffee.“Did you… did you all see that?” She looked around to see if people thought the same as her, pointing an accusing finger at me.“Ma’am, you’re holding up the line.” A tall man from behind sneered.She’d managed to change her order about 6 times already in a row and I was getting sick and tired of it, alongside the people behind her on the queue.‘Just fucking place an order and go sit down somewhere.’ was what I intended saying but I kept my mouth shut. As much as I hated my job, it was the only thing I had and whether I liked it or not, we were in America and the customer was always right.I was about to ask her if she wanted any other thing else as politely as I could muster but U was cut offf by a loud boom. The next thing we heard was the shatter of glass and the wheezing o bullets. Screams and screeches erupted from across the building and pandemonium ensued.“Everybody get the fuck d
Stockholm Syndrome: His Prisoner RETRIBUTION
Alejandro’s POV“Find me the head of your sister’s killer and I’ll give you the keys to my kingdom.” My father’s voice bellowed harshly but his eyes were dead.We’d both witnessed the death of my sister at her wedding. It was a one hit shot taken with a sniper on the roof.There was an uproar and men and women fled the scene. My sister, Alia had died before we could get to her, her blood pooling everywhere.That day, everything in me died. The only innocence I’d ever come across was soaked in her own blood.Being in the most feared mafia in the country meant you hard to have balls of steel and an icy heart. However, watching your only daughter, my kid sister get shot in the head on her happiest day, that was a different ball game.We searched and searched for the killer but we found none. Just a clue that it was our rivals, the Russos. The only thing we had in common was our hatred for the other. We, the Amatos, had stayed at the top of the mafia ladder for centuries, never succumbing
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