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
MARCOAs soon as Petrov and Tony stepped out of the chopper, I was there to meet them. We moved in silence, taking a cab to the hideout. It was the kind of silence that was thick, heavy. I could feel the weight of everything we weren’t saying. The whole ride, I tried to stay calm, tried to convince myself that I had it under control.After a while, Tony glanced over, breaking the silence. “Marco,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, almost casual, “you’ve got nothing to worry about. Luis has things handled back home. This… right here? It’s our focus.” He nodded, his confidence unwavering, and I did my best to give him a reassuring look in return.When we arrived, Petrov wasted no time setting up his equipment. He had his tools out, his focus sharp, ready to trace any possible leads. Watching him was oddly comforting, a reminder that I wasn’t entirely alone in this. I took a deep breath, figuring it was finally time to tell them everything. “Listen up,” I said, drawing their att
SARAHI jolted awake, a cold sweat clinging to my skin, my breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. I could still feel it—the terror of the nightmare, clinging to me like a second skin. It was Marco. I’d been reaching for him, trying to scream his name, but no sound came out. He was right there, on the other side of some invisible wall, his face twisted in pain and desperation, his hands reaching for me but blocked by something dark, a shadow creeping in between us.Then Danzo appeared, his cold, twisted smile the only thing I could make out in the darkness. He stepped between us, blocking Marco from view. I tried to scream, to reach out, but it was like my body had turned to stone, paralyzed with fear as Marco slipped further away, his image swallowed by the darkness. I was helpless, my voice trapped somewhere in my throat as Danzo’s face lingered, mocking, laughing.I blinked hard, swallowing, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. It wasn’t real. Just a twisted, fearful e
MARCOIt’d been a whole damn day since Tony came back with that lead.Since Mickey Two-Times pointed us toward the warehouse in the Bronx, my world had shrunk to this office. Four walls, a ticking clock, and my phone screen lighting up every couple minutes with nothing but the time. No calls. No texts. Just silence.I hadn’t eaten. Couldn’t. My stomach turned every time I tried. I’d take a bite, chew it twice, and spit it out like ash. The only thing that kept moving was me—back and forth across the room, pacing like some caged dog. Phone always in my hand, like it had answers. Like I could will it to ring.Every second felt like it was dragging a chain behind it. I kept checking my watch, hoping an hour passed when it’d only been five minutes. My nerves were shot. My fists kept clenching up without me realizing. I’d sit on the edge of the desk, then stand again right after. I couldn’t stop seeing her. Sarah. Tied to a chair. Locked in some dark room. Bruised. Alone. And him. Marcel.
MARCOI stood in front of the mirror, elbows on the sink, just staring at myself. Same face, same eyes, but none of it looked familiar anymore. I was pale. Eyes darker. I hadn’t slept. I hadn’t eaten anything that stayed down. My beard was growing in patchy. My shirt was wrinkled. Tie loose. I looked like I’d been hit by a truck and dragged for miles. Maybe I had. Just not the kind that leaves tire marks.She was still gone.I gripped the edge of the sink tighter. My knuckles went white. I stared at my reflection and saw everything I’d lost.Sarah.She was out there. Somewhere. I didn’t know where. I didn’t know if she was safe or suffering. I didn’t know if she was being fed or locked in some cage. I didn’t know if she was being hit, or worse. My stomach turned at that. My heart beat faster every time my mind went there.I hated not knowing.I kept waiting for something. A message. A call. A note. Some kind of signal that Marcel wanted to talk. That he wanted to bargain. But there wa
SARAHMy whole body ached. My back felt like it had been beaten with bricks. My legs were sore, heavy, like they didn’t belong to me anymore. My stomach hurt too, and that scared me the most. I couldn’t tell if it was from hunger or something worse. I hadn’t eaten properly in days. Maybe longer. Time didn’t exist in here. No clocks. No light. Just this thick air that never changed. Always cold. Always still.I laid on the hard floor staring at the ceiling. Nothing up there, just cracks and stains. Still, I kept looking, like it might tell me something. Give me a sign. I didn’t even cry anymore. I couldn’t. My face felt dry, like I’d cried out everything I had.I rubbed my hand over my stomach.Was the baby okay?I tried to feel something. A kick, a twitch, anything. But it was quiet. Still. I didn’t know if that was normal. I didn’t know anything anymore. And that scared me more than anything else.Marco… where are you?The thought crept in without warning. I tried to push it away. I’
MARCELShe slammed the door so hard the windows shook. I didn’t even flinch. Just sat there, glass in my hand, eyes steady on the dark wood of my desk. She was pale, her eyes swollen from crying. Her hair was a mess. Makeup streaked. She looked like someone had ripped her open and poured salt in the wound.“Damien is dead!” she screamed.Her voice cracked halfway through it. Like her lungs couldn’t even hold the weight of the words. She wasn’t just saying it. She was falling apart as it left her mouth.I didn’t say anything right away. Didn’t need to. I took a slow sip of my drink and leaned back.She stared at me like I was supposed to get up and scream. Like I should punch a wall or flip the desk. She was waiting for me to be human about it.I wasn’t.“It was bound to happen,” I said, calm. Cold.Her face twisted. “That’s all you have to say?”“This is war, Isabella,” I said. “Casualties were always on the table. I’m not Superman. I couldn’t save him.”“You son of a bitch.”She walk
TONYLate at night, rain tapping on the windshield, I sat in the car with Petrov outside a grimy little club in Queens. The kind of place where everyone inside’s either running from something or selling to someone who is. I didn’t say a word. Just lit a cigarette, let the smoke hang around while I kept my eyes on the front door. We’d been sitting there a while. Hours, maybe. Days started blending. The city never stopped moving, but I felt like I had. Like I was frozen in this damn seat while the world spun sideways.Petrov sat next to me, hunched a little, scrolling through his phone. He wasn’t talking either. Not like we had much left to say. We were past tired. Past pissed. Past anything normal. What we were now was something else entirely. Just two guys running on fumes and hate.The glow from the streetlamp above us flickered like it was about to die. Kind of fitting. Everything felt like it was on its last legs. The car smelled like smoke, coffee, and sweat. A lot of hours, a lo
MARCOThe office was a wreck. Empty bottles everywhere. Ashtrays full. Blinds shut so tight, barely a sliver of light came through. I hadn’t left the room in days. Didn’t need to. Didn’t want to. The air was thick, stale, like everything inside here had died and no one bothered to bury it.I sat slouched in my chair, suit wrinkled, shirt halfway unbuttoned, tie somewhere on the floor. My gun sat on the desk. Right next to the photo of me and Sarah. She was smiling in it. Big, bright smile. I couldn’t even look straight at it without my stomach turning.I pressed play on the voicemail again.Her laugh filled the room.I leaned back, eyes closed, letting it wash over me.Her laugh.God, that laugh.She’d left that message on a random Tuesday. Just her laughing about something dumb I’d said, telling me to bring home milk or something. I couldn’t even remember the rest. Didn’t matter. It was her voice. Her warmth. That softness she had when she was happy and safe.I pressed play again.An
SARAHThe door creaked open slowly.I squinted as little light spilled in from the hallway, making my already pounding head throb harder. The room had been nothing but darkness, filth, and whispered threats. Now, the light cut through it like a blade, sharp and blinding. My eyes struggled to adjust, but I didn’t need to see to know something had shifted.The guards straightened immediately, their lazy arrogance vanishing. Their boots scraped against the floor as they stepped back, backs stiff, shoulders squared.Someone important had arrived.Then I heard it. Heels clicking against the grimy floor. A slow, confident rhythm. Each step deliberate, unhurried. Whoever it was, they weren’t afraid of this place, of the stench, of the filth.I forced my eyes open, blinking hard as my vision cleared. And then I saw her.Isabella.She stood there, perfectly put together, draped in luxury that didn’t belong in this pit. A silk dress that clung to her figure, nails painted a deep red, makeup fla
SARAHI woke up groggy, my head pounding like someone had taken a hammer to it, over and over again. My skull throbbed with each slow beat of my heart, a dull, crushing pain that made it hard to think. Everything was heavy. My eyelids, my limbs, even my breath felt like it took too much effort.The air pressed down on me, thick and suffocating. It smelled awful—sweat, dampness, something rotten. The kind of stink that clung to a place, to the walls, to the people trapped inside. It crawled into my lungs, making my stomach churn.I tried to move, but a sharp ache shot up my arms. My wrists pulsed with pain. Tied? No. Just stiff, numb from how I had been lying. My fingers tingled as I flexed them. The cold floor bit into my skin, rough and unwelcoming.My thoughts were sluggish, crawling through a thick fog. I blinked hard, trying to push past it, to make sense of anything. My head was too clouded, my body too weak. It felt like waking up from a deep, drugged sleep, the kind where reali
MARCOThe phone nearly cracked in my grip as I rushed into the SUV. My hands were steady, but my heart was beating like a war drum. I jammed the key into the ignition, twisting hard, and the engine roared to life. I didn’t waste a second. I slammed my foot on the gas, tires screeching against the pavement as I tore out of the parking lot.The streets blurred past me. Headlights flashed. Horns blared. I didn’t care. I pushed the speed, weaving through cars like they were standing still. The city was a mess of moving lights, but I only had one thought in my head.Sarah.She had to be safe.I prayed, gripping the wheel tighter. I never prayed, but right now, I did. Let me get there in time. Let her be alive.My knuckles were white on the wheel as I cut through traffic, dodging between cars, taking turns so sharp the tires nearly lifted off the pavement. A semi braked hard ahead of me. I spun the wheel, the SUV sliding through a gap so small I felt the side mirror graze metal. The moment