MARCOI narrowed my eyes, my hand still hovering near the grip of my gun. Rico looked pale, his eyes darting around like a trapped animal. I wasn’t sure if I could trust a single word out of his mouth, but I needed to press him again, just to be certain.“Are you absolutely sure it’s Carlos?” I asked, my voice cold and hard. “Because if you’re lying, Rico, I swear you won’t be walking out of here. You’ll be dead before you hit the floor.”Rico swallowed hard, his hands trembling. “I’m not lying, I swear to God, Marco! It’s Carlos! Everyone around here knows not to mess with him and the old guy. Please, I don’t want any trouble, I’m just telling you what I heard!”I stared at him, my mind racing. Carlos? Could it really be him? The thought gnawed at me, twisting everything I thought I knew. I didn’t want to believe it. Rico could be scared, desperate to throw anyone under the bus. But if he was telling the truth… If Carlos was really involved…I couldn’t stand there any longer. “Get ou
I arrived at the bar earlier than planned. It was tucked away on a quiet street near the marina, the kind of place where tourists barely trickled in, and locals came to drink away the island heat. The sun was starting to set, casting a burnt-orange glow over the water, but I wasn’t here for the view.I parked the car and leaned back in my seat, staring at the entrance. The bar was calm, almost empty, just a few patrons scattered at the tables outside, sipping drinks, enjoying the breeze. It was the perfect place for a conversation—one that could go south fast.*Carlos.* I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. I didn’t want to. The man had been like family to me. We’d built our operation from the ground up, weathered storms that would’ve crushed lesser men. And now? Now, he was somehow tied to Sarah’s kidnapping. I wanted to be wrong. I wanted this to be some huge misunderstanding. But every sign pointed to him, and I wasn’t about to ignore it.I pulled my gun from the glove compartm
MARCOI took off after Carlos, barely pausing to check my surroundings as I followed him out of the bar and down the dimly lit street. The cold moon cast long shadows on the pavement, but all I could see was Carlos, his figure cutting through the crowds as he darted ahead, weaving past tourists and locals who threw confused glances in his direction. He was moving fast, but I was faster, each step pounding into the ground as I zeroed in on him.“Carlos!” I shouted, my voice raw with anger and adrenaline. “You’re only making this worse! Stop!”He didn’t even look back. Instead, he picked up speed, his legs pumping harder, as though the very sound of my voice put fuel in his veins. I gritted my teeth, pushing myself harder. The chase stretched on, the distance between us shortening then lengthening, like some sick, twisted game of cat and mouse. He dodged around a family stepping out of a store, nearly colliding with a little girl, and I saw him throw a quick apology over his shoulder be
MARCOI tightened my grip, my patience wearing thin. Carlos was bleeding, slouched against the alley wall, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. But despite the pain, he looked up at me with a twisted smile, almost like he was enjoying this.“Carlos, start talking,” I said, my voice low, barely controlled. “I’m done playing games. I’m losing patience here.”He laughed, coughing as pain flashed across his face. “Oh, Marco… you have no idea, do you?” His voice was weak but taunting. “You really think you’re gonna get anything out of me?”I shoved him harder against the wall, the back of his head hitting the brick with a dull thud. “Don’t test me, Carlos. Where’s Sarah?”He closed his eyes, laughing again, his smile curling even wider as he cracked open one eye. “You’ll never find her in time. She’s gone, Marco.”I felt my fists clench, my whole body tightening with anger. “What did you do, Carlos?” I demanded. “Who’s helping you?”He coughed, wincing as he shifted his leg, pain clea
SARAHThe moonlight barely crept into the cramped, stifling room where I sat, casting a faint, sickly glow on the four cold walls around me. I’d lost track of how long I’d been here. Hours had blended into days, days into a blur of nothingness. It felt like time was playing tricks on me, slipping through my fingers whenever I tried to grasp it. Eventually, I stopped trying, letting it all blur into a single, endless stretch. The only thing that marked one moment from the next was the tray of food they’d shove under the door.It was there now, sitting by the door in silence, like an unwanted visitor. Soup. A hunk of bread. All stale, cold. I hadn’t touched it, not once. Hunger clawed at my stomach like an animal, but every time I looked at the food, I felt a surge of revulsion. I couldn’t trust anything they gave me. For all I knew, they were lacing it with sedatives, something to make me docile, compliant. No, I wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction. I’d drink a few sips of wate
SARAHThe sight of Danzo standing there made my blood run cold. I couldn’t believe it—Danzo, here? Of all people. Was he here to help? To save me from whatever nightmare Carlos had planned? My mind clung to that single hopeful thought as he stepped into the room, looming in the dim light. His eyes scanned the small, bleak cell as if he were bored with the entire scene, and I found myself searching his face, hoping for even a hint of compassion, something to reassure me that he hadn’t completely lost his humanity.I opened my mouth, voice barely above a whisper. “Danzo… please…”Before I could say more, he interrupted me with a soft, mocking chuckle. His eyes glinted with something far from kindness, more like amusement. “Carlos really outdid himself, didn’t he?” he sneered, a twisted smile playing on his lips. “Managed to get you away from Marco’s watchful eyes. Now that’s something I didn’t expect. I would’ve bet he’d bungle it all up.” He chuckled again, shaking his head like this w
SARAHHours slipped by, each one stretching out longer than the last. My eyes stayed fixed on the door, locked on that single point, waiting. Waiting for anything—a sound, a creak, the faint scrape of a footstep. For the next monster to walk in, or maybe, against all odds, for some impossible savior. But as the minutes crept by, any hope I’d been clinging to started to feel thinner, like a thread stretched too tight. With every tick of silence, that thread seemed more and more likely to snap.My mind kept wandering back to Danzo. His voice, that mocking laugh. It felt like he was still in the room, like his shadow lingered long after he was gone. I could still feel his grip on my shoulder, the cruel amusement in his voice when he talked about Marco. My pulse quickened, a heavy feeling twisting in my stomach. I never wanted to hear his voice again, never wanted him near me again, but the reality was setting in. He was my captor. And he’d made it clear—he’d be back for me soon enough.I
SARAHDanzo's fingers hovered over his phone, each tap slow, deliberate, and sinister. My stomach twisted with dread as he dialed Marco’s number. The rings echoed through the room, each tone stretching out, clawing at me as I braced for whatever twisted game Danzo had planned. After a few rings, the call dropped. Danzo gritted his teeth, his jaw tight as he hit redial, frustration flashing in his eyes. He glanced at me, his gaze filled with a twisted satisfaction as if daring me to hope. He wasn’t about to let this go. This wasn’t just a call for him; this was a show, a piece of his cruelty he was savoring.The phone rang again, and this time it connected. Danzo’s lips curled into a sick smile as he hit the speaker button."Who is this?" Marco’s voice snapped, hard-edged and wary, though a thread of something else crept in too—concern. Danzo chuckled, a low, taunting sound that filled the room like poison. “Marco,” he sneered, drawing out his name as if it were something to toy with
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
MARCONight had swallowed the city whole. The air hung thick, heavy with something I hadn’t felt in a long time. That familiar tension before a job. The kind that made your blood move slower… made every second feel like it was stretching out.I stood in the armory, loading rounds into a Glock magazine, one click at a time. Tony was by the table, checking the sights on an SMG. Petrov leaned against the wall, spinning a knife between his fingers like he was playing with a toothpick.Petrov smirked.“Been a while since we went on a night like this.” He flipped the knife once, catching it clean. “Not since we took out Danzo.”I glanced up at him, the name stirring up old memories I buried deep. “Danzo…”I sighed, sliding the mag into the Glock with a cold snap.“Yeah… I wish the peace had lasted.”Tony looked up from the SMG, his face tired.“We all do.”The room fell quiet for a second. None of us were built for peace, but we learned how to live in it. Now… that was all gone.Petrov brok
MARCOMartha set the tray down gently on the dining table, arranging the cutlery without making a sound. The smell of fresh eggs and coffee filled the room, but I barely noticed.Three days.Three days since I set the plan into motion — putting Tony and Petrov out on the streets to flush Aisha out and hit back on every bastard who thought I was finished. Three days since I decided to stop sitting back and waiting for the walls to close in.The house had been quiet ever since.Too quiet.I picked up the fork, forcing myself to eat. The food tasted like nothing, but I kept chewing, bite after bite. I needed the strength. The plan had to work.Failure wasn’t an option.Martha lingered by the corner, wiping her hands on her apron. I caught her watching me from the corner of my eye, but she quickly looked away when I glanced up.I cleared my throat, cutting through the silence.“How’s Sarah?”Martha straightened up, clasping her hands in front of her.“She’s been eating better, sir. I made
MARCOThe evening was dragging — slow, heavy.The sun had dipped behind the skyline, leaving streaks of orange bleeding into the sky, but I was still here, trapped between four walls, waiting for the city to get darker before I moved.The vultures were still outside, media dogs camping at the gates like they were waiting to see me buried. The last thing I needed was another fucking scene. Not after the one I gave them earlier.Tony sat across from me, arms folded, eyes fixed on the glass of whiskey he’d barely touched. The whole room felt like it was holding its breath — silent, thick with smoke and tension.I leaned back in my chair, cigarette between my fingers, eyes pinned to the ceiling as I exhaled slowly.The door knocked twice.Sharp. Precise.Tony’s head turned, then the door cracked open. Petrov stepped in — tall, broad, cold-eyed like always.His heavy boots echoed against the marble floors as he shut the door behind him.The mood in the office shifted instantly — darker, he
CHAPTER 263MARCOTony stepped in, shutting the door quietly behind him. His eyes swept across the office, taking in the mess — broken glass scattered by the window, papers tossed across the desk, the whiskey bottle half-empty and lying on its side. The air was thick — like the whole room had been swallowing smoke for hours.He let out a low whistle under his breath.“Jesus…” His eyes flicked back to me. “Place looks like a fucking crime scene.”I didn’t respond. I just leaned further into the chair, fingers pressing into my temples, trying to push the pounding headache out of my skull.I felt Tony’s eyes lingering on me — sizing me up like he was trying to figure out just how bad the damage was.His voice dropped lower.“Boss… you okay?”I let out a slow breath, eyes still shut.“Do I look like I’m fucking okay, Tony?”He didn’t answer — because he knew there was no point.He knew I’d talk when I was ready, knew better than to push me when I was on edge like this.The room stretched
MARCO I walked out of the house, the sun already hitting hard against my face like it had a personal vendetta against me. The guards stood stiff by the gates, their faces blank — the same faces I’d been seeing every fucking day while my life burned down to ashes behind these walls. I was certain they didn’t see me. Not really. I could be bleeding out in front of them and they’d still stand there like statues, pretending they didn’t notice how I was breaking apart piece by piece. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, trying to bury the shaking in my fingers. “Get the car ready… the one with tinted windows.” The guard barely nodded before rushing off. None of them would even meet my eyes. Probably because they believed the headlines too — believed I was just another De Luca bastard who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I stood there waiting, the heat pressing down on my skin, but I barely felt it. All I could feel was the weight — the fucking pressure of everything closi
MARCOThe sound of my phone vibrating against the nightstand pulled me out of sleep. I groaned, rubbing my face as the buzzing continued, relentless. I blinked against the dim light in the room, reaching blindly for the phone. My fingers finally wrapped around it, and I lifted it to my face. The screen was flooded with notifications—calls, emails, and text messages, all demanding my attention.I sighed, unlocking the phone. The first few messages were from business associates, men who had stood by me when everything was stable, when my name was untouchable. Now, they all wanted answers.Giovanni Fabbri: Marco, what the hell is happening? Investors are pulling out. We need a statement ASAP.Emilio Rizzo: This scandal is making waves in the wrong places. The board is restless. Call me.Colonel Bianchi: The media pressure is mounting. This is dangerous. Handle it before it gets worse.Valentino Russo: The stock is plummeting. Your silence is making things worse. Damage control. Now.I cl
DAMIEN I watched Isabella walk away, her head high, her steps firm, like she hadn’t just refused me for the hundredth time. I smirked, shaking my head as I leaned back against the couch, swirling the drink in my hand.Persistent. That’s what she was. A woman who knew what she wanted—or at least thought she did. Most women melted the moment I so much as looked at them. But Isabella? She resisted, turned me down like I was some desperate bastard begging for a scrap of attention. It was almost amusing.Almost.Because at the end of the day, she was still mine to have. Whether she liked it or not.I took a slow sip of my drink, my mind still turning over the interaction. She wanted control, that was clear. She thought saying no to me gave her power, that it kept her in charge of the situation. But I knew women like her. They built walls, thinking they were protecting themselves, not realizing they were only making the chase more interesting. Sooner or later, those walls would crack, and