MARCOThe night was heavy with tension as I turned slowly, the sound of my full name echoing in the cold air. The moment I faced her, I saw an elderly woman, frail and trembling, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the dim streetlights. She was dressed in black, a scarf tied tightly around her head, and her hands were wringing together in front of her as if she was holding back all her grief in those hands.“Chi sei?” I asked, my voice gruff, though I could feel the weight of her sorrow before she even spoke.Tony immediately stepped forward, putting himself between us. “Marco, I’ll handle this.”I raised my hand, motioning for him to step aside. Something about the woman pulled me in. Maybe it was the tears in her eyes, or maybe it was the way she stood there, unshaken by Tony’s intimidating stance. “Lasciala parlare, Tony,” I said quietly.The woman sniffed, stepping closer. “Sono… la madre,” she said, her voice breaking. “Mio figlio… il mio Paolo… mio figlio è morto!” Her words w
MARCODanzo leaned back in my chair, that smug grin still plastered across his face. I tried to tell myself he was just messing with me. Hell, maybe it was some twisted joke, his idea of humor after everything that had gone down tonight. But even I didn’t believe that. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “Danzo, get your ass up. Now.”He didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. Just stared at me with that infuriating look like he was daring me to do something about it. The tension in the room was thick, my patience thinning with every passing second.I gritted my teeth. “I’m giving you till the count of three to get the fuck out of my seat.” My tone was flat, but the threat was clear.“One…”Still nothing. He just blinked at me, like I wasn’t even worth the effort of a response.“Two…”I felt my hand twitch, the desire to drag him out of that chair growing stronger with each breath. My day had already been shot to hell. First, the lost shipment. Then, one of my best men, Paol
MARCOMy fists pounded against the heavy bag, each strike landing with a dull thud that echoed through the gym. Sweat dripped down my forehead, my muscles burning, but I didn’t stop. The anger that churned in my chest had to go somewhere, and this was the best way I knew how to deal with it. I thought about all the people I’d lost lately. Good men. Honest men. And for what? Some power play, some twisted game of control. My knuckles ached, but the pain felt good. It reminded me that I was still here, still fighting. “Marco,” Tony’s voice cut through the sound of my fists against the bag. I glanced over at him, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.“What is it?” I asked, not really in the mood for whatever news he was about to bring me.Tony held up my phone, a serious look on his face. “It’s a call. From the Red Table.”I paused, letting the bag sway in front of me as I processed his words. The Red Table. A group of the most powerful men in the city, the heads of th
MARCOThe engine went silent as the car came to a halt, and I stepped out, taking in the sight of the venue. It was a wide, open space, not the kind of place you’d expect for a secretive meeting of the city’s top mob bosses. But that was the thing with the Red Table—they always knew how to play things close to the vest. No obvious signs of anything shady going on. Just an innocent-looking building that could have been a high-end restaurant for all anyone outside would know.I glanced over at Tony as he stepped out of the car behind me. His expression was calm, but I knew him well enough to catch the slight tension in his movements. I asked, “Petrov got eyes on the place?”Tony nodded, checking his phone. “Yeah, he’s got the perimeter covered. We’ve got men positioned in case things go sideways.”“Good.” I took a moment to scan the area again, making sure there wasn’t anything out of place. Couldn’t be too careful. These types of meetings, you never knew who was playing what angle.We
SARAHI sat there on the couch, watching the TV screen flicker with the latest episode of a show I’d started binging. Honestly, this series had become one of the few things keeping me entertained lately. With all the craziness going on outside, it was nice to escape into someone else’s drama for a change, even if it was fictional. The lead character was right in the middle of a heated argument, her face scrunched up in anger, and I couldn’t help but smirk at how intense it all was. At least her problems could be solved by the end of an episode.Mine? Not so much.I sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions, taking comfort in the familiar chaos of the show. It was weird, you know? I used to have a lot more going on. Parties, dinners, trips. But now? I might as well just enjoy this little slice of distraction. The maids had already left for the night, and the guards, well… they’d been patrolling the house like hawks for days now. I couldn’t really ignore how tense everything had become.
SARAHI hesitated at the door to Marco’s office, my hand resting on the cold brass handle. My heart raced with uncertainty. What could have possibly made him yell my name like that? It was so unlike him. I thought of all the possible scenarios, but none of them felt right.I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.There he was, standing by the window, his back to me. The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating. Marco didn’t say anything, didn’t turn around. He just stood there in silence, his posture stiff, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.I stepped into the room, my feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. “Marco?” My voice came out softer than I intended, shaky even. “Why did you call me?”He didn’t answer.I waited a moment, then asked again, a little firmer this time. “Marco, what’s going on?”He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at me over his shoulder. His face was hard, unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something dark
MARCOAs soon as Sarah slammed the door behind her, the silence hit me like a wave. I stood frozen in the room, my mind racing. What the hell had I just done?I felt the heat rise in my face, my chest tightening as anger burned inside me, but this time it wasn’t aimed at anyone else. It was all on me.You’re a fool, Marco. I thought, pacing back and forth, raking my hands through my hair. You stupid, stupid fool.I wanted to scream, punch something, make it all go away, but nothing would fix what I had just done. Sarah had looked at me like I was a stranger. No, worse—like I was a monster. And maybe I was. I had slapped her. The woman who had done nothing but love me, who had stood by me when everything else was falling apart. And I had hit her.“What the hell is wrong with you?” I muttered to myself, my voice thick with self-loathing. I stopped in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. The man looking back at me wasn’t the man Sarah had grown to fall in love with. He was cold
SARAHI folded the last of the clothes, smoothing out the creases as I placed it neatly on the bed. The room was quiet, too quiet, and I could feel the thoughts creeping in again. No matter how much I tried to keep myself busy, to find something—anything—to focus on, my mind kept circling back to Marco. To everything he had done. To everything he was.I shook my head, mocking myself for even allowing the thought that he might change to settle in my mind. What a joke, I thought bitterly, how stupid was I to believe that there was any chance of him becoming a better person?I couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped my lips. After everything he’d put me through, how could I have been so naive? I had let myself fall into this trap, let myself see something in him that wasn’t there. Maybe it was the few good moments, the small gestures that made me believe for just a second that he might be capable of change. But deep down, I knew better.I should’ve known better.I remembered the beginning,
ISABELLAThe morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my private suite, casting golden light over the silk sheets of my king-sized bed. I stretched lazily, savoring the coolness of the fabric against my skin before reaching for the remote on my nightstand. With a press of a button, soft classical music filled the room, the kind that played in the background of the world’s most expensive penthouses. The kind that reminded me of power. Of control. Of exactly who I was.I slid out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush white carpet as I made my way toward the bathroom. Marble countertops, a freestanding tub, gold fixtures—everything hand-selected, everything perfect. I twisted the faucet, letting warm water spill into the sink before splashing my face gently. A morning cleanse, followed by an ice-cold jade roller against my skin. Every inch of my routine was precise, curated.Next came the serum. The kind infused with gold flecks, a favorite of European royalty.
MARCOSarah appeared at the top of the stairs, her eyes scanning the room, and the moment she took in the sight before her, confusion flashed across her face. Then something else. Something unreadable. Her gaze drifted from the blood pooling on the floor to the doctor hunched over Aisha’s body, his hands moving fast, his jaw tight with focus. My men stood around, tense, waiting, their shoulders stiff with the weight of what had just gone down. The air was thick, the kind that pressed against your chest. But I barely noticed any of it.All I saw was Sarah.I moved toward the staircase, instinct taking over, ready to guide her down, but before I could reach for her, she stopped me with a small shake of her head.“I’m fine,” she murmured. “I can walk.”I hesitated for half a second before stepping back, watching her carefully as she descended. Her hands gripped the railing a little tighter than usual, and I could see the way her breath hitched as she got a closer look at the scene. The b
MARCOBlood was everywhere. Thick, dark, warm against my skin. It soaked through my fingers, through Aisha’s torn clothes, pooling on the leather seat beneath her. The metallic stench filled the SUV, mixing with the acrid scent of gunpowder and burnt rubber. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, eyelids fluttering, skin sickly pale.“Stay awake,” I muttered, pressing my hand harder against the wound. “Don’t fucking pass out.”Her head lolled slightly, lips parting. “Can’t…”“You can,” I snapped. “You don’t get to bleed out here.”The Rossis were still on us, their engines snarling, the air filled with the rapid cracks of gunfire. Another window shattered. Glass sprayed across my arm, cutting into my skin, but I didn’t flinch. My focus was locked on Aisha and the goddamn blood leaking out of her too fast.Petrov yanked the wheel hard to the left, barely dodging a parked car. The SUV fishtailed, tires screeching, but he kept control, pushing forward.Tony was still hanging out the window, c
MARCOBang!Blood hit my face, warm and thick. The sound of Anton’s body slamming against the floor echoed in the room, his lifeless eyes still open, staring up at nothing. His mouth, which had been running nonstop just seconds ago, was frozen in shock. The pool of blood beneath him spread fast, the deep red spilling across the cracked tiles. The smell—sharp, metallic—filled the air, mixing with the lingering scent of gunpowder.I didn’t move. My chest was still tight, my breath locked in my throat. That bullet should’ve been for me.Tony stepped in, gun still raised, his eyes sweeping the room. He took one glance at Anton’s corpse, then at me. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Damn. Came in just in time, huh?”I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension still coiled in my muscles. My hand flexed involuntarily, the ghost of a gun still lingering in my grip. “Yeah… that was too fucking close.”Tony chuckled, sliding his gun back into its holster. “Close? Marco, you were done for.”I ran a hand ov
MARCOThe cold steel at the back of my head sent a sharp wave of irritation down my spine. Not fear. Irritation. Because I had checked. I had swept this place. I had been so sure I was alone in this room with Aisha. So where the fuck did this guy come from? How hadn’t I heard him move? No footsteps, no breath, no shift in the air. Nothing.I was still caught in that thought when the gun pressed harder against my skull.“What, you deaf?” The voice was deep, smooth, almost amused. “I said drop the gun.”Slow. Careful. I lowered my arm, fingers unwrapping from my weapon before I let it hit the ground. The second it did, the guy let out a short laugh.“That’s good,” he said, then I heard the scrape of his boot as he kicked my gun far out of reach.I clenched my jaw, but I didn’t move. My mind was already working, already cycling through every option, every opening, every mistake I had made to end up in this position.The man behind me let out another small chuckle, stepping closer.“Marco
MARCOThe second the lights cut out, my hand went straight for the knife. My fingers curled around the handle tight, the weight fitting into my palm like it was born there. I didn’t reach for the gun. Not yet. Guns made noise. Guns were for men who didn’t know how to move. I wasn’t here to spray bullets aimlessly and paint the whole place in blood unless I really had to.I moved low, sticking close to the wall. My breath steady. My heartbeat calm. The whole building was stirring into chaos — voices barking out orders, footsteps stomping around blindly in the dark. They didn’t know what hit them yet. The picture in my head stayed sharp. Every guard I clocked when I walked in. Every position. Every lazy hand resting too far from a trigger. I carried that image with me now as I crept through the shadows.The first two were exactly where I left them. By the columns. Flashlights flicking left and right, trying to cut through the darkness. Russian accents. I could hear the nervous edge in
ISABELLAThe room was drowning in silence — the kind that made your own thoughts feel louder than they should. The only sound cutting through was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.I paced from one end of the room to the other, heels clicking against the marble floor. My cigarette had burned out in the ashtray a long time ago, smoke still faintly curling from the filter. I hadn’t even realized I’d left it there.My eyes kept flicking to the phone on the table — screen black, still no calls. Every second that passed without a word from La Paloma only twisted the knife deeper in my chest.They should’ve called by now.I could feel it… that tight pull in my stomach. Something was happening.Marco was out there.Looking for her.I poured myself a glass of wine, but it barely made it halfway to my lips before I set it back down. My fingers tapped restlessly against the glass, my mind circling the same dark corner over and over again.If Marco found Aisha… if he got to her before w
MARCOThe city lights blurred through the tinted windows as we cruised down the highway. The engine hummed low, steady. Nobody was talking much, just the faint sound of the radio playing some old blues song under the noise of the tires slicing through wet road.I sat in the backseat, window cracked just enough to let the night air slip in. The blunt burned slow between my fingers — smoke curling up against the roof. I took a long drag, letting the smoke sit heavy in my chest before passing it forward.“Here… calm your nerves.”Tony snorted from the passenger seat, taking it without missing a beat.“Come on, Marco… what the fuck you think this is? First rodeo?” He puffed out a cloud, passing it straight to Petrov in the driver’s seat.Petrov grabbed it with a grin, eyes fixed on the road.“The man’s treating us like fresh meat.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, that crooked smirk tugging at his lips. “I ain’t been nervous since Danzo’s funeral.”I couldn’t help the faint s
MARCOI sat back in my office, the glass swirling slow in my hand. The whiskey tasted bitter tonight — or maybe it was just me. The window stretched wide in front of me, showing the whole city flickering under the night. New York always looked peaceful from up here… but I knew better.The whole place was a ticking bomb.I watched the headlights crawling along the streets, the faint horns echoing through the night. Somewhere down there… someone was dying. Someone was making money. Someone was getting betrayed.This city doesn’t sleep.I let out a slow breath, tapping my finger against the rim of the glass. My chest felt heavier with every second ticking by. Tonight was going to change everything — one way or the other.I wasn’t scared.I’ve been in worse situations. Buried men with my own hands. Watched bodies bleed out inches away from me. I’ve done shit that still wakes me up at night.But tonight… it was different.Aisha.Her name had been drilling through my skull ever since Tony m