Indebted to the Mafia King

*Tatiana*

Getting someone to help me proves to be an almost impossible task, even once I wander into a populated area of New York City.

I know literally no one in this city, and it's not like I can trust anyone. While I'm fairly certain my adoptive parents had allies here, I have no fucking idea who they are or how to find them. Oleg must have eyes and ears everywhere, so it makes me hesitant to approach anyone.

But in this dress, I'm an easy target for anyone who might be helping him. New York is a crazy place, but I'm probably the only woman in a bloody, ripped-up wedding gown on the streets today. If the mob doesn't get to me, the police certainly will.

My stomach is beginning to ache from the knot that formed in there weeks ago, but I force myself to take deep breaths. At least I'm able to hold back my tears-for now. My whole life turned upside down in a blink of an eye, and having to suppress my feelings so I don't show my weakness to Oleg and Yakov has taken its toll on me.

Picking up my bare feet is becoming more and more trying. I'm hungry, tired, and just want this nightmare to be over. My hurried pace is fueled by adrenaline and the awareness that if I don't get away now, I never will.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?"

I blink, staring at the kind face of an old lady, concern furrowing her brows as she stands a good five feet from me on the sidewalk.

"Do you need any help?" Her eyes roam past my wide eyes to my shaking hands. It was probably a wise decision to drop the gun in a dumpster a few blocks back. At least, she won't think I'm going to murder her-probably.

My mouth opens and closes a few times before I answer. What if the Romanis sent an innocent looking elderly woman to lure me in and then trap me so they can dive in and take me back to the mansion? It seems a bit far-fetched, but I wouldn't put it past Oleg.

Would it be a mistake on my end to trust her?

Timidly, she moves closer, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. "Did someone hurt you?" she asks, lowering her voice.

"Yes. I mean, no, I-I..." I look around, considering what to tell her. I don't want to incriminate her by telling her more than she needs to know. If she really is just an angel who was sent to aid me, Oleg could get to her and find out she helped me, and I can't even begin to imagine the things he might do to her. "Could you just get me some clothes?" I ask instead.

The corners of her mouth turn down as she studies me. I glance down at my ruined gown, and her eyes follow mine. Maybe she expected me to ask for money, but I couldn't bother her with such a request. Not when I know she might be killed for even speaking to me.

"Are you sure? Do you need me to call the police or something? You look like you were... attacked," she whispers the last word, cautiously watching my reaction.

I shake my head. "I'm all right," I tell her, looking over my shoulder. The sooner I get new clothes, the better my chances of escaping will be. "I just need to get changed. Please. I need people to stop staring at me."

She studies me for a couple of seconds before she finally nods. "Okay, I can help you with that. I live in a condo a block from here. You can come with me if you want," she offers kindly.

It astonishes me that she would trust someone as suspicious as I am enough to show me where she lives, but I guess there are still good people in this world.

Or maybe she's leading me straight into an ambush.

Nodding, I follow her down the sidewalk. I need to trust her. She's the only one who can offer me a chance of escaping Oleg for good right now. I ignore the glances I get from people on the street. The old lady doesn't say anything else to me, which I'm thankful for. She looks like someone I could get attached to, and right now, that's the last thing I need to do.

Anyone who gets close to me automatically has a target on their back.

Soon enough, we reach a brick building on a surprisingly empty street, and I tell her I'll wait outside while she grabs something for me to wear.

Five minutes later, she comes back with a plain black T-shirt and a pair of jeans in one hand and some flip-flops in the other.

"These are my daughter's," she explains, handing them to me. "She's about your size. They should fit."

I smile in thanks, taking them and moving to the small alley beside the building. She turns her back to me, watching the street in silence, glancing from side to side to make sure no one is approaching while I change. I slip the jeans on under the dress so I'm not completely naked, and then tug the dress off over my head, thankful to be wearing a bra that leaves much to the imagination.

Once I'm dressed, I bury the dress in a dumpster, hoping no one digs through and finds it and then return to her side. "Thank you so much," I say. She turns to face me again. Her eyebrows are still furrowed, and her mouth is drawn into a tight line. "Are you sure you don't need any more help?" she offers again.

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I shake my head, giving her a small smile. "You've done more than enough already. I can't thank you enough."

She takes a step forward, shoving something in my hand. I look down, spotting a fifty dollar bill now in my palm.

"You really sho—"

She waves a hand at me dismissively. "I want to. There's a small deli a few blocks from here. You could hide in there for a while until you figure out what to do. They have delicious croissants there, and you look like you need to eat something. You don't want to pass out in the middle of the street."

She's not wrong. I'm lightheaded and clammy, and my pulse is racing. However, food is the last thing on my mind right now. I do need to think about where to go or what to do though, and I can't do that out in the open like this. Maybe her suggestion will come in handy. "Thank you," I say again, tears dampening my eyelashes as I take her hand and hold it for a moment.

She nods at me before urging me to go on. She turns her head to watch down the street in the direction we came, just in case I'm followed.

I don't look back.

I already feel my heart tightening with pain as I turn my back on the first person who's been kind to me after so long. Laura was somewhat nice to me, too, but she would never be someone I could blindly trust since she works for Oleg.

I miss my parents.

I miss my home.noveldrama

I miss my freedom.

God, why does everything have to be so hard?

It takes me about ten minutes to get to the deli she told me about. Spinning around, I make sure no one has followed me and let out a small sigh of relief before I approach the door.

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It was premature.

Before I have the chance to enter the establishment, I spot a black SUV pulling up in front of the door, several men getting out and looking around, searching for something... for someone.

"Fuck," I hiss, running to hide behind some trash cans in a nearby alley. Turning around, I see a brick wall behind me.

Good God, of all the fucking alleys in New York City, I had to pick one that's a dead

end.

I hear footsteps in the distance and lean around the corner to peek at the deli. Several men walk inside, others around the back. Another group splits up to go into nearby establishments.

Exhaling sharply, I close my eyes for a brief second to calm my racing heart. Is the mafia everywhere in this fucking town? I don't think I recognize any of the men I just saw, but they could be more of Oleg's allies.

I open my eyes again, take a deep breath, and dart my head around the corner for another check.

I'm staring at a broad chest covered in a black button-down

I blink twice, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing.

"Fuck," I mutter, lifting my eyes.

His rugged jawline tenses, the muscle in his cheek protruding slightly as he stares down at me, his eyes hard and cold. My first instinct is to turn and run, but he's muscular and probably much faster than I am. His curly hair is styled and professional. The guy looks like a fucking gangster for sure.

"I don't know who you're looking for bu-" Before I can finish my sentence, he grabs me, pushing me up against the wall, holding both of my wrists with one of his enormous hands. They're pinned above my head, useless. He leans in so that his nose is only a fraction from mine. Brown eyes pierce right through me as a grin spreads across his lips.

"For someone who was just getting married a few minutes ago, you're pretty good at blending in," he murmurs, the smell of mint and a hint of whiskey brushing my face. "I have some questions for you. I hope you like Upstate New York," he adds before lifting his other hand and covering my nose with a cloth, knocking me unconscious.