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MidReal Story
The Devil's Protection
Scenario:After a mysterious Mafia Lord named Damien Soto saves waitress Maeve Dawson from a creepy guy, she becomes captivated and curious. But when she uncovers his deadly secret, their fates collide, leading them into a world of danger and intrigue
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Maeve Dawson
She is a waitress at a diner. She is curious, vulnerable, and determined. Maeve's life changes when Damien Soto saves her from a dangerous situation. Intrigued by his mysterious presence, she becomes drawn to him. When her sister goes missing, Maeve discovers that Damien may be connected to the dark forces that took her sister. Despite the danger, she is determined to uncover the truth about Damien's role.
Damien Soto
He is a feared Mafia Lord. He is enigmatic, intimidating, and controlling. Known as 'The Devil' by those who cross him, Damien exerts a powerful influence over Maeve. His initial act of saving her sets the stage for a complex relationship marked by both danger and intrigue. As Maeve delves into his world, she uncovers hints that he may be involved with the disappearance of her sister, despite his claims of innocence.
Ethan
He is an enforcer for Damien Soto. He is loyal, intimidating, and coldhearted. Ethan plays a pivotal role in Maeve's life when he confronts her about investigating Damien's activities. His demeanor is cold and menacing, making it clear that he will stop at nothing to enforce Damien's rules. Though his motivations are unclear, his actions contribute to Maeve's growing understanding of Damien's realm of influence and power.
If this is how it feels to be saved by a Mafia Lord, then sign me up for the next available slot.
I can’t stop replaying the scene over and over in my head like it’s a broken record I’m unable to turn off.
One minute I was walking out of the diner after my shift, the next some creepy guy was stepping out of the shadows and blocking my path.
I was scared—like, really scared—until another guy appeared seemingly out of nowhere and saved me.
But it wasn’t just any guy.
Oh no.
It was Damien Soto, the most mysterious and feared Mafia Lord around.
He’s known as "The Devil" to those who cross him, and now I’m starting to see why.
Before I could process what was happening, he had the guy on the ground and was kneeling over him with his hand pressed firmly against his mouth to keep him quiet.
My heart was pounding as I watched, frozen in place, while Damien whispered something in the guy’s ear that had him turning pale.
After a few tense moments, Damien stood, releasing his grip on the guy, who quickly scrambled to his feet and took off in the opposite direction.
That left Damien turning toward me with an unreadable expression on his face.
My heart is still pounding from watching that little scene go down, and now I’m curious—no, more than curious.
The next morning, I’m working the breakfast shift at the diner when the door swings open and Damien walks in.
He scans the room until his eyes land on me, and then he makes his way over to where I’m standing behind the counter.
I watch him approach, my eyes fixed on his every move.
He’s wearing a black suit that looks tailored to perfection, and his dark hair is slicked back, revealing his sharp features.
When he reaches me, he leans against the counter and looks down at me with those piercing blue eyes of his.
"Are you okay from last night?" he asks, his voice low and smooth.
I nod, feeling a mix of fear and curiosity.
"I’m fine," I say, trying to sound calm.
He studies me for a moment before nodding.
"Good," he says.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed pretty shaken up."
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice.
"Yeah, I was scared," I admit.
"But you saved me. Thank you."
He lingers at the counter, his eyes never leaving mine.
I can see him shifting uncomfortably, like he’s not sure what to say next.
Finally, he leans in closer and lowers his voice.
"It's nothing, really," he says.
"But I just can’t help but feel this overwhelming need to look out for you."
I feel a strange pull toward him as he hesitates, searching for the right words.
"You stir something in me that I can’t quite explain," he confesses.
I stand there frozen, processing what he just said.
"Why me?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitates, glancing around as if the walls might be listening.
"Because," he finally says, "you're the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm a monster."
My hands tremble slightly as I pour coffee into two mugs behind the counter.
The morning rush is over, leaving the diner nearly empty.
I slide one mug across to Damien, who's perched on a worn vinyl stool, his expensive suit starkly out of place against the dated décor.
He wraps his fingers around the ceramic, but his intense gaze never leaves my face.
The coffee steam rises between us as I gather my courage.
"Would you like to sit in one of the booths?" I gesture to a quiet corner.
"We could talk more comfortably there."
He nods, sliding off the stool and following me to the booth.
I set the mugs down on the table, and he takes a seat across from me.
As we sit there, he sips his coffee, his eyes occasionally darting to the entrance of the diner.
I decide to press him for answers.
"So, Damien, I have to ask," I say softly.
"What were you doing here last night?"
He takes another sip before setting his mug down.
"I was in the area on business," he replies vaguely.
"And then I saw you."
"Did you know that guy?"
I ask, my voice trembling slightly.
He shakes his head.
"No, but I knew what he was planning to do," he says, his voice low and serious.
His eyes darken as he continues, "I could see it in his eyes. He was going to hurt you."
I shiver at the thought of how close I came to danger.
"What did you say to him?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.
Damien leans forward, his gaze intense.
"I told him that if he ever laid a hand on you again, I would make sure he suffered a fate worse than death," he says, his voice dripping with menace.
I swallow hard, feeling a mix of fear and gratitude.
"Thank you," I whisper.
He reaches out and gently brushes his fingers against mine.
"You don’t need to thank me," he says softly.
"I just couldn’t let anything happen to you."
His touch sends shivers down my spine.
I pull my hand away slightly, unsure of how to react.
He watches me closely, his expression unreadable. I need to know more about him—about this world he inhabits.
I lean forward, my voice barely above a whisper.
"What kind of business were you on last night?"
He hesitates for a moment before responding, "Just some... negotiations."
I sense there's more to it, but I press on.
"Negotiations? What kind?"
He sighs deeply before answering, "It’s complicated. Let’s just say it involves some... u###y characters."
As we sit there sipping our coffee, Damien's phone suddenly buzzes in his pocket.
He pulls it out and glances at the screen, his expression darkening.
"I need to go," he says abruptly, standing up.
"Is everything okay?"
I ask, feeling a mix of concern and curiosity.
He doesn’t answer, just strides towards the door.
I watch him leave, my mind racing with questions.
What was that text about?
Why did he leave so quickly?
I decide to follow him discreetly, keeping a safe distance as he exits the diner and heads down the street.
I trail him from a safe distance, ducking behind parked cars and storefronts whenever he glances back.
The morning crowd provides good cover as I weave through pedestrians, keeping his dark suit in sight.
He walks briskly, checking his phone again.
His focus is completely ahead, oblivious to my presence.
My heart pounds as he suddenly stops at a street corner.
I freeze behind a newspaper stand, watching him scan the surrounding area.
That's when I hear the engine—a black sedan racing down the street, tires squealing against the pavement.
The car screeches to a halt beside him, and before I can react, Damien is gone, swallowed by the shadows of the city.
My heart pounds as I step out from behind the newspaper stand, only to see the sedan disappearing around the corner.
I curse under my breath, having lost sight of him.
As I turn to head back to the diner, a rough hand clamps over my mouth from behind.
I try to scream, but the grip tightens.
The figure drags me into a narrow alley, pushing me against the cold brick wall.
Through black fabric holes, dark eyes study me intently.
"Why are you following him?"
a muffled voice demands.
I recognize something familiar in those eyes, but fear keeps me frozen.
The masked figure's grip loosens slightly at my words, but their eyes narrow with suspicion.
I notice a distinctive scar on their exposed wrist—a thin line that curves like a crescent moon.
It's a scar I've seen before, on the wrist of the man who sat beside Damien at the diner last week.
My mind races, piecing together the fragments of that encounter.
The way he watched me with an unreadable expression, his presence both intriguing and intimidating.
I remember how Damien had introduced him as Ethan, his enforcer, and how he had left just as abruptly as Damien did today.
The realization dawns on me that this masked figure must be Ethan.
"Please," I manage to whisper through the suffocating grip, "I didn't mean any harm."
Ethan releases my mouth but keeps me pinned against the wall with his forearm pressed against my throat.
"Curiosity gets people killed in this world," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
With a swift motion, he pulls off his mask, revealing the face I had seen at the diner—strong features, piercing eyes that bore into my soul.
I try to steady my trembling voice, hoping to convey sincerity.
"I was just curious. He left so suddenly after getting a text. I wanted to make sure he was okay." Ethan studies me for what feels like an eternity before finally releasing his hold on me.
He takes a step back, pulling out his phone from his pocket.
His movements are fluid and calculated as he types something furiously on the screen.
I watch him warily, unsure of what to expect next.
The sound of sirens echoes in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.
Ethan glances up at me briefly before returning his focus to his phone.
"He's safe," he says curtly, not meeting my gaze again.
He releases me and steps back, his eyes cold as he types on his phone.
I rub my arm where he gripped me, watching him closely.
He glances up briefly, says curtly, "He's safe," then returns to his phone.
I want to ask more about Damien, but Ethan's warning hangs heavy in the air.
"You shouldn't have followed him. You need to leave him alone. And I'm not asking, I'm telling," he says without looking at me.
With that, Ethan turns and disappears into the shadows, leaving me alone in the alley with more questions than answers.
My hands still trembling, I wave down a yellow cab on the busy street.
The driver eyes me suspiciously through his rearview mirror as I slide into the backseat.
He probably notices how I keep glancing over my shoulder, as if expecting someone to follow.
I give him my address, then sink into the worn leather seat.
Ethan's words echo in my mind: "You need to leave him alone."
The taxi weaves through morning traffic while I absently rub the spot on my arm where Ethan's grip left a faint bruise.
I reach my apartment building, still reeling from the encounter.
Each step up the stairs to the fifth floor feels heavier, as if Ethan's warning weighs me down.
The elevator hums past, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me.
I replay the morning in my head, trying to make sense of Damien's sudden departure and Ethan's menacing grip.
Finally, I reach my door and fumble with my keys, my hands still trembling slightly.
I fumble with my keys, finally finding the right one and unlocking the door.
As I step inside, I'm greeted by the sight of my roommate Courtney making out with her boyfriend Peter on the couch.
They're so lost in their embrace that they don't even notice me entering.
I quietly close the door behind me, trying to process everything that just happened.
My arm still throbs where Ethan grabbed me, and his words echo in my mind: "You need to leave him alone."
I walk past Courtney and Peter, heading down the hallway to my room.
I enter my bedroom and freeze.
My room is in disarray, clothes scattered all over the floor, and my closet doors hang open.
The contents are strewn about, some of my belongings torn or broken.
"Courtney!"
I scream, running back to the living room.
Courtney and Peter break apart, looking at me with wide eyes.
"What's wrong?"
Courtney asks, her voice laced with concern.
I point down the hall to my room.
"Who was in my room?"
Courtney exchanges a nervous glance with Peter before answering meekly, "It was me. I was looking for some money."
I stare at her incredulously.
"Money? In my closet?"
She fidgets uncomfortably under my gaze.
"I was going to pay Peter back for the drugs he got me."
I feel a surge of anger mixed with betrayal.
"You went through my stuff without asking?"
Courtney looks down, avoiding eye contact.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd mind."
I shake my head in disbelief.
"You have no idea how much I mind."
I turn and walk back to my room, leaving Courtney and Peter behind.
As I enter my room again, I take in the extent of the mess.
Clothes are strewn about, some torn or stained.
My dresser drawers are pulled out, their contents scattered on the floor. I start picking up the clothes one by one, placing them neatly back in their designated spots.
Each item I touch feels like a violation of my privacy.
I can't believe Courtney would do this without asking first.
As I work on putting everything back in order, Courtney enters the room hesitantly.
"I'm really sorry," she says quietly, her eyes filled with regret.
"It won't happen again."
I don't respond immediately, focusing on putting away the last of my clothes.
When I finally turn to face her, I see genuine remorse in her expression.
But it doesn't erase the hurt and betrayal I feel.
"I appreciate your apology," I say calmly, trying to keep my emotions in check.
"But next time, just ask me if you need something. Don't go through my stuff without permission."
"But next time, just ask me if you need something."
Courtney nods, looking down at her hands.
"I'm sorry again. And... I was wondering if I could borrow some money from you."
I sigh, knowing she needs it.
I reach into my purse and pull out a few bills.
"Here," I say, handing them to her.
Courtney's face lights up with gratitude as she takes the money.
"Thank you so much," she says before leaving the room.
I continue picking up the mess, my mind drifting back to Damien and Ethan's warning.
The ransacked room mirrors the chaos in my life right now.
The next day, my shift at the diner ends, but I linger, hoping Damien will show up.
I wipe down tables slowly, my eyes constantly darting to the door.
As the minutes tick by, anticipation turns to disappointment.
I sit in the booth where we had coffee, replaying our conversation in my head.
The diner grows quiet; the last customers leave, and the staff starts closing up.
Finally, I accept that Damien isn't coming tonight.
I leave the diner late at night, the cold air biting my skin.
As I walk to my car, a black SUV screeches to a halt beside me.
Two muscular men jump out, their faces stern and focused.
They grab my arms, pulling me towards the vehicle.
I struggle, but their grip is ironclad.
They shove me into the backseat, slamming the door shut.
I sit in the back, my heart racing as they get back into the front.
They exchange hushed words, but I catch a name that sends a chill down my spine: "Carlo Gambino."
The car speeds away, leaving me trapped and terrified.
One of the men turns to face me, his expression cold.
"Carlo Gambino. He's part of the Gambino crime family. He's seen you with me. You are now a target," he says sternly.
I stare at him, trying to process what he's saying.
The car slows down, and they pull me out.
They lead me into a nondescript building.
The door slams shut behind me, and I realize there's no turning back.