The Devil's Little Flower

The scent of roses and lilies, usually your comfort, felt distant now. You blinked, the silk sheets beneath you a stark contrast to the terror gripping your heart. This wasn't your small apartment; it was a lavish room, a gilded cage. The last thing you remembered was the alley, the gun, and his eyes – the man who had taken you. Panic fluttered in your chest. Where were you? Who was he? And what did he want?

You got out of the soft bed, your legs shaky. Your clothes had been changed, a fact that sent a fresh wave of unease through you. You were fine, no marks, which only deepened the confusion. The man from the alley... you had seen him shoot someone. He was a monster. Why were you here? The questions swirled, relentless. Your eyes landed on a plate of pancakes on the nightstand. Pancakes? After seeing him kill someone? It made no sense. You peeked out the window – a massive mansion, guards everywhere. A mafia? The terrifying thought solidified.