Chapter 3 Dragged into darkness

Rafael

She moved towards the kitchen, and I saw her fully. The heart-shaped face. The elegant neck. The way she held herself, like she was dancing even while she worked. 

Eva. 

The glass slipped from my fingers. It shattered on the floor, wine spread like blood across the tile. My guards moved instantly, hands going to their weapons, their eyes scanning for threats. 

But I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I just stared at her. 

She turned at the sound of breaking glass, her eyes wide with suprise. Warm brown eyes, and a fave exactly like Eva’s. 

“Boss?” One of my guards was ay my side already. “Boss, what’s wrong.” 

I stood slowly. The café had gone completely silent. Everyone was watching. But I didn't care. 

The girl, the woman, was staring back at me. She looked confused, maybe a little frightened. She didn't know me. She didn't recognize me. But I knew her. I knew every line of that face because I had memorized it, dreamed it, and mourned it for fibe years. 

“Find me again.” Eva's voice whispered in my memory. 

This was what she meant. This was her coming back to me. I didn't know how. I didn't know why. I didn't care. But she was here. Standing twenty feet away. And alive. 

My voice was barely above a whisper when I spoke. “Take her.”

Flora 

The man's grip tightened on my wrist as he dragged me out. He opened his car door with his other hand, trying to push me in when I saw a police officer's flashlight cut through the darkness. 

I screamed. My throat was dry from dehydration. 

“Hey! What's going on here?” The police officer came quickly. 

The man’s grip on my wrist loosened. I continued screaming. 

“Help me! Please! He’s trying to take me! I don't know him! Please!” My voice cracked and broke as tears streamed down my face. The officer's hand moved to his belt, his expression hardening as he took the scene 

“Sir, let the lady go.” He commanded. 

“This is none of your business, officer.” The man's voice was cold now, his charm was gone. “This is a private matter.” 

“It doesn't look private to me. It looks like an assault. Let her go. Now.” The officer's voice grew dark. 

For a terrible moment, I thought the man might refuse. His fingers dug into my skin, bruising it. Then he released me with a shove that sent me stumbling backward. 

I ran to the officer, my legs were shaking so sadly I nearly fell. 

“She's lying,” the man said smoothly, adjusting his shirt. “She works for me. We had an agreement. She's just trying to get out of honoring it.” 

“That's not true!” My voice was horse from screaming. “He paid my boss. He tried to force me into his car. Please, you have to believe me.” 

The officer looked between us, his jaw tight. Then he pulled out his radio. “I'm going to need backup.” He turned to me. “And I want to talk to this boss of yours.” 

Twenty minutes later, the man was in handcuffs. Signor Benedetto was standing outside the café, red-faced and furious, denying everything. The officer didn't believe him. I could see it in his eyes. But he took my statement, gave me a card with a case number, and told me I was free to go. 

Free. 

I didn't feel free. I felt broken. 

I walked home in the dark, my whole body shaking. The streets were empty, the shops closed, the world moving on like nothing had happened. Like I hadn't almost been sold like an object. Like my boss hadn't traded me for money. 

My apartment was a tiny studio on the fourth floor of a building that should have been condemned years ago. The stairs creaked under my feet. The hallway smelled like mold and old cooking oil. My door stuck when I tried to open it. I had to shoulder it hard to get inside. 

The space was barely bigger than a closet with a narrow bed, a hot plate and a single window that looked out onto a brick wall. But it was mine. The only thing in this world that was mine. 

Except it wasn't. Not while I still owed Signor Benedetto one hundred thousand dollars. 

I sank onto my bed, still wearing my uniform, still smelling like coffee and other people's food. 

A contract sat in my drawer. I didn't need to read it yo know what it said. I’d memorized every word in the five years since I'd signed it. 

One hundred thousand dollars. Loaned to continue my ballet training. To be repaid in ten years after working. If I quit before the term was up, the full amount becomes due immediately. 

Five years ago, Signor Benedetto loaned me one hundred thousand dollars to continue my ballet class after the death of my parents. 

I’d never even made it to a single ballet class. 

My father's family came for the money the same week I got it. My aunt, my uncle, my cousins who never spoke to me when my parents were alive. They said the columbarium fees were overdue. They said my parents' ashes would be thrown in the river if someone didn't pay.

They said it was my responsiblity as their daughter. And I gve them everything. Every last euro. And I watched my dream disappear into their hands, and I said nothing because what could I say? Let my parents be discarded like trash? Let their final resting place be torn away? 

So I worked, I smiled, I served, I scraped together what I could. And now my boss had tried to sell me. 

I couldn't quit. The contract wouldn't let me. And even if I could, where would I go? What would I do? I had no family. No friends. No momey. No skills except pouring coffee and clearing plates. 

I was tapped. 

I pressed my mother's ring against my palm, feeling the metal dig into my skin. She used to tell me I was special. She used to say I had a gift, that the world would see me someday. 

And the world saw me tonight. But it tired to destroy me. 

I didn't sleep. I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt that man’s hands on my wrist, his breath on my neck, his voice in my ear.