Laurel P.O.V
The boat scraped against the shore just as the first hint of dawn bled into the sky.
Dawn hovered somewhere between night and morning,
Not light. Just a thin, dirty gray that made everything look unfinished, like the world itself hadn't decided whether to wake up or stay dead.
But the sky still bruised and heavy, the sea breathing quietly behind us. For one reckless second, hope bloomed in my chest. A foolish, fragile hope.
Maybe this is it. Maybe I live.
My shoes sank into the damp sand as Abigail pulled me forward and my heart thudded with stupid hope.
The sea behind us was quiet, too quiet, as if it was holding its breath. No birds. No engines. No fishermen. No voices. Just silence stretching wide and endless.
Abigail stepped forward first, scanning the shore like a predator. I followed, my body stiff, my nerves screaming at every shadow.
"Stay close" She murmured.
We moved fast, away from the water, toward the towering shapes ahead.
We passed rusted cranes and towering stacks of shipping containers which rose out of the darkness like massive coffins stacked on each other, rusted metal walls swallowing sound and light, their metal bodies looming like sleeping monsters.
The air smelled like salt, oil, and old blood that had long soaked into concrete. Every step echoed too loudly in my head.
Fear crawled up my spine.
Then a man stepped out from between two containers.
Abigail stopped instantly I nearly crashed into her back.
Her hand slid behind her back, gripping mine hard enough to hurt.
She leaned in, barely moving her lips.
"Stay behind me"
I obeyed without thinking. Fear made me obedient like nothing else.
The man moved closer, stepping into the weak dawn light. Slow. Confident. Like he owned the ground beneath our feet.
When his face caught the dim light, my stomach dropped.
The fat man.
The one who had smiled while ordering my death. The one who hated Richardo enough to use me like currency.
"Well" He said, voice thick with mockery, "this night keeps getting interesting"
Abigail straightened, her voice turned cold and sharp.
"Let us go or else…I'd have to use my violence"
He laughed—short, ugly, humorless.
"Consigliere" He said. "I never expected you to choose sides"
"I don't harm the innocent"
He tilted his head. "Don't try to play dumb. You knew she's a spy"
Abigail's grip tightened on my hand until I felt the pressure in my bones. My heart slammed so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.
Men began to appear from everywhere, behind containers, from shadows, from places I hadn't even noticed. Guns. Heavy boots. Faces carved with cruelty.
We were surrounded.
My chest burned as I leaned toward Abigail, whispering,
"What should we do now?"
She didn't answer.
Her eyes moved slowly, calculating, weighing lives like numbers.
The fat man raised his gun and aimed it directly at her head.
"Hand over the hostage" He said calmly, "and you leave here alive"
Alive.
The word felt like a lie wrapped in silk.
Abigail's fingers slid into my palm. Something cold pressed into my hand.
A knife.
Abigail released my hand suddenly and she raised both hands slowly.
Surrender was painted perfectly on her face.
"Weapons down!" The fat man barked.
Abigail complied.
One gun fell from her pocket. Then another. Then another. Weapons slid from hidden places on her body—small, large, things I didn't even recognize. It felt endless, like she was dismantling an entire war from her body.
I hid the knife instinctively, my fingers trembling.
"Get her" The fat man ordered.
Two men grabbed me.
Their hands were iron. My heart slammed so hard I thought I'd faint. One wrong breath. One wrong move.
I realized then—Abigail had no escape plan.
This was sacrifice.
Abigail stood still, with her hands raised as the fat man stepped closer to Abigail and lifted her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him.
That was when she moved.
In one violent, fluid motion, she yanked him close and pressed a gun to his head.
"Make a move" She said calmly, "and he's gone"
The world froze.
The men hesitated. Guns wavered.
But the fat man lifted his hand slowly. "Stand down"
The grip on me loosened. I stumbled free.
Abigail met my eyes.
Go.
I ran.
I didn't think. I didn't breathe. I ran like fear had replaced my thoughts, until my legs wobbled. Sand burned my lungs. I glanced back once.
Abigail still stood there, gun steady against the fat man's skull, buying me seconds with her life.
Hope flared again.
The city lights shimmered ahead. Safety. Crowds. Somewhere to disappear.
Then I got shot in my leg.
Pain exploded in my left leg.
I screamed as I fell, Sand filled my mouth. My body hit hard with shock rippling through me. I tried to crawl, dragging myself forward, but my leg refused to move.
A man approached, gun raised.
I lifted the knife Abigail had given me,my hands shaking so badly I could barely aim.
"Please" I whispered, voice breaking. "Please…"
He smiled faintly.
"I know your aim"
I kept crawling anyway. Pain meant nothing now.
Then arms wrapped around me.
Abigail hauled me up, my weight dragging her down, but she held firm.
The man stopped a few steps away.
"You can't do this, Caporegime" Abigail said quietly.
"Underboss must not fall" He replied. "She's a spy"
Something inside me snapped.
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" I screamed. "I wouldn't be here if Richardo hadn't abducted me to Italy!"
Abigail's hand struck my side sharply like a warning.
I bit back a cry.
"Hand her over" The man said. "I'm only helping the boss"
"I'm doing my job"
"You shouldn't watch Underboss get hurt"
"She isn't a spy"
"Alpha's word is final"
Abigail's voice cracked, just slightly.
"If she dies, Richardo will take my life"
We started moving again, staggering toward the city lights.
"He's still behind us" I whispered. "Won't he attack?"
There was silence.
"Is Richardo an Underboss?" I asked.
Still nothing.
"I'll take that as a yes"
Her foot came down hard on my injured leg.
I almost screamed.
But she clamped a hand over my mouth.
"Someone's coming"
A gunshot cracked the air.
Abigail spun, pulling a gun from her shoe.
The man reappeared.
"They're coming" He said urgently. "You must leave"
Before she could answer—
The fat man returned.
With more men.
Bullets tore through the air.
Abigail shoved me behind a shipping container. Bullets slammed into metal, sparks screaming into the air. I collapsed against the container, shaking,my breath trapped in my chest.
The true meaning of survival finally carving itself into my bones.
Survival was no longer about escape.
It was about choosing which nightmare to run toward.
And I didn't know which one would kill me first.
This is survival, I realized.
And it hurts.
Abigail fired back.
The man joined her.
The port became hell. Shouts. Footsteps. Echoes of gunfire, Gunshots tearing through dawn. Shadows running. Death moving faster than thought.
I pressed my hands to my mouth,trying not to make a sound, my heart kept pounding so loud it felt like betrayal.
This is how I die.
The gunfire didn't stop.
And neither did the fear.
Somewhere between bullets and sunrise, I understood—
Running wasn't saving me anymore.
It was just delaying the inevitable.
And I didn't know which side would kill me first.