1. The Wrong Witness

Chapter 1: The Wrong Witness

Elena Rossi knew she shouldn’t have come here.

The music pounded through the walls of the exclusive club, the kind of place only the rich and dangerous could afford to enter. She wasn’t supposed to be here, not dressed in a cheap black dress and heels that made her feet ache. But desperation had pushed her through those doors.

She needed a job, a way to pay rent before her landlord threw her out. A friend had told her about a waitress position here—high tips, fast cash. That was all she wanted. But now, standing near the back hallway, she knew something was terribly wrong.

A gunshot cracked through the air.

Elena’s body locked in place. The sound wasn’t part of the music. It was real. Sharp. Deadly.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she turned the corner. The hallway was dimly lit, stretching into the private sections of the club. She shouldn’t go further. She should turn around. Run.

But her body disobeyed.

She took a step forward, her breath held tight in her throat. Then another.

And then she saw them.

Two men. Dressed in black. Blood staining the floor between them. A third man lay slumped against the wall, his face frozen in shock, his chest gushing red.

Elena inhaled sharply, a mistake.

Both men turned to her at once.

The taller one had dark, ruthless eyes, his features carved from stone. He held a gun in his gloved hand, the barrel still smoking. The other was slightly leaner, his smirk sharp, his golden-brown hair tousled as if he hadn’t cared enough to fix it before committing murder.

They looked like gods of death.

And she had just walked straight into their temple.

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Elena’s mouth opened, but no words came.

The man with the gun stepped forward. His movements were slow, controlled, as if he had all the time in the world to decide whether to kill her.

Alessio De Luca.

She had heard his name whispered in the city’s darkest corners. Cold. Calculating. A monster in a tailored suit.

The other one, Gabriel Moretti, was just as dangerous. More unpredictable. The devil with a charming smile.

“Bad night to be curious, princess,” Gabriel murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

Elena’s pulse skyrocketed. She stumbled back, her body screaming for escape.

Alessio raised the gun.

She turned and ran.

Her heels pounded against the marble floor, the club’s flashing lights up ahead giving her a false sense of hope. If she could just make it to the exit—

A hand grabbed her wrist.

She barely had time to gasp before she was slammed against the wall, her breath knocked from her lungs.

Gabriel’s body pressed against hers, his grip bruising. He was warm, solid, and terrifyingly close.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he breathed against her ear.

“Please,” she choked out. “I—I didn’t see anything.”

Gabriel chuckled, the sound dark and amused. “Liar.”

Alessio stepped beside them, his gaze cutting into her like a blade. He was calm, too calm.

“Let me go,” she begged, tears burning her eyes.

“No.”

One word. Cold. Final.

Her stomach twisted.

Gabriel leaned in closer, his breath hot against her neck. “You just became a problem, sweetheart.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I swear!”

Alessio sighed, tilting his head slightly as if considering. “And why should I trust you?”

Elena couldn’t answer. There was no reason for them to believe her.

Gabriel’s fingers traced down her arm, slow and deliberate. It was a mockery of tenderness, a warning disguised as a touch. “Do you know what we do with problems, cara?”

Her throat dried.

“We get rid of them,” Alessio finished.

She barely had time to process those words before Gabriel’s hand suddenly clamped over her mouth, muffling her scream. Strong arms lifted her off the floor, her kicking feet useless as she was carried into the darkness.

Elena’s world spun as she was thrown into a cold, unfamiliar room. The walls were bare concrete, a single lightbulb casting shadows across the floor.

She scrambled to her feet, her chest heaving. “Please, don’t do this.”

Alessio closed the door behind him. Gabriel leaned against the wall, watching her with amusement.

“No one’s coming for you,” Alessio said simply.

Elena’s heart sank.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” Gabriel said, stepping closer. “You belong to us now.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t—”

Alessio’s fingers wrapped around her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You witnessed something you shouldn’t have. That makes you ours. Until we decide what to do with you.”

Her skin burned where he touched her, but she refused to cower. “You don’t own me.”

Gabriel smirked. “You sure about that, princess?”

Elena glared.

Alessio’s thumb dragged across her lower lip, slow and deliberate. “I’d be careful if I were you,” he murmured. “Defiance makes things… difficult.”

Her stomach twisted.

Gabriel chuckled. “I like difficult.”

Elena s*ck*d in a breath. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it.”

Gabriel tsked. “Kill you? No, no, cara. We have much better plans for you.”

Alessio released her chin and took a step back. “You have one option, Elena.”

She clenched her fists. “And what’s that?”

A slow, cruel smile spread across his lips.

“You submit.”

Her stomach dropped.

Gabriel’s grin widened. “Welcome to our world, sweetheart.”

Elena’s breath came in ragged bursts. She had walked into this club hoping for a job.

Instead, she had walked into a trap.

And now, there was no way out.