SARAHI stared at the walls, my mind hazy and dull. They looked so cold, stained in patches, with smudges here and there—reminders of other lives, other people who had been trapped in here before me. The air felt thick and stale, pressing down on me like the weight of all my thoughts. I wasn’t tied up this time, at least. But the freedom to move didn’t make much difference when the guards were still there, stomping around like they owned the place.The hallway outside was cramped and narrow. Through the small window in the door, I could see the guards passing by, their boots thumping rhythmically as they paced. They laughed with each other, their voices crude and wild, making nasty jokes and tossing around the kind of words that made me want to shrink into myself. Every time they laughed, a chill spread over my skin, reminding me how little control I had here. Every part of me knew that trying to escape would be useless. I didn’t even know where I was, and from the looks of it, there
SARAHI woke up with a sharp jolt, my whole body aching. The first thing I noticed was the pain, but it wasn’t the same kind I was used to—the sharp, throbbing pain of captivity. No, this was different. It was dull, like a thud in the back of my skull that wouldn’t leave, and everything else felt sore in a way I didn’t recognize. I tried to open my eyes, but the light burned through my lids, forcing them back closed. I groaned, my hand instinctively going to my head, hoping the pressure would ease, but as my fingers grazed my scalp, something felt wrong.I froze. Something was on my wrist. Something cold. I lifted my hand slowly and felt something thick and soft, like a bandage, but it wasn’t a bandage. It felt more… like medical tape. I opened my eyes fully, blinking to adjust to the light. What I saw made my stomach drop.I was in a bed, but not the hard, cold floor I was used to. I was lying down, my body wrapped in soft, clean sheets, with an IV drip stuck in my arm, attached to a
SARAHI was too numb to resist as Danzo’s men closed in around me, each rough hand on my arm or shoulder pushing me forward. The small spark of defiance I’d clung to, the one that had gotten me this far, was all but extinguished now, buried under the weight of failure. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Danzo. But I could feel his gaze, that amused, twisted satisfaction radiating off him.Once they brought me back to the same sterile room and practically threw me onto the soft bed, I let out a strangled, defeated breath. The warmth of the sheets felt mocking now, a reminder of my own foolish hope just minutes ago.One of Danzo’s men shoved my shoulders down, forcing me back into the bed. His grip was merciless, his eyes indifferent as he strapped me down with the restraints I’d worked so hard to free myself from before. I bit down hard on my lip, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood. It grounded me, reminded me I was still alive, for whatever that was worth.Danzo strolled in casu
MARCOI set the phone down slowly, feeling its cold weight in my hand as the call ended. The finality of it pressed down on me like a thick fog—heavy, unnerving. He had confirmed my resignation. He’d told me where to pick Sarah up. But none of it felt right, like waking up from a bad dream only to realize you’re still stuck in it. The silence in the room was too still, too loud, broken only by the steady, muted breaths of Tony and Petrov beside me. They waited, both of them watching me closely, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, to clear the swirl of unease that kept nagging at the back of my mind.Tony was the first to break the silence, leaning back in his chair with that usual smirk—half-reassuring, half-infuriating. “See? I told you this would happen.” He stretched his arms out, almost too casual, too satisfied. “First things first—Sarah is safe, Marco. She’s alive, which is a damn good factor in all this.” He paused, raising a brow. “Now? Now it’s our turn. Time to hit th
MARCOThe room was silent except for the smooth metallic sound of zippers being undone as Dimitri revealed his collection. The bag laid open on the table like a treasure chest—polished steel and black carbon shining under the dim light. Dimitri, ever the perfectionist, straightened the weapons out with precision, each gun lined up like soldiers ready for inspection.“Don Marco,” Dimitri began, his voice low and steady, “everything here is the best of the best. Tuned to your specifications. You know me—I don’t do sloppy.”I stepped forward, running my hand along the cold steel of a semi-automatic. It felt good in my hand, the weight just right, balanced and deadly. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” I said, cocking the gun to feel its mechanism. Smooth. No drag.Dimitri’s lips quirked into the faintest smile. “Try it out. The recoil on that one is practically non-existent. It’s custom-built for speed and precision. The kind of weapon that doesn’t just take a man down—it sends a message.”I r
MARCOThe night air clung to me like a heavy cloak, thick with tension and the metallic scent of salt from the nearby docks. As I stepped out of the car, the first thing I did was adjust the mic in my ear. Petrov’s faint voice buzzed briefly in the connection, a reminder that I wasn’t entirely alone in this. But still, the silence surrounding me felt absolute, broken only by the distant hum of machinery and the soft crunch of gravel under my boots.My hand hovered close to my side, grazing the cold steel of the gun tucked under my jacket. I didn’t draw it, not yet, but the feel of it was a small comfort. The shipyard was a maze of shadows and towering containers, each one a potential hiding place. My eyes darted left, then right, sweeping for movement. Nothing. Not yet.“Marco, can you hear me?” Petrov’s voice crackled in my ear, low but clear.I pressed the mic lightly. “Loud and clear.”“Good,” he replied. “We’ve got eyes on the perimeter. Cameras are feeding us everything in real t
MARCOThe silence inside the narrow hallway was almost unbearable. The dim, flickering light above me buzzed faintly, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. My boots clicked softly on the metal floor as I moved further in, my breaths shallow and controlled. Every step felt heavier than the last, each one carrying me deeper into uncertainty.“Petrov,” I whispered, pressing a finger to the mic in my ear. “Petrov, can you hear me?”Nothing. Just static.I paused, my heart thudding harder as the realization hit me. The connection was dead. Whether it was deliberate or accidental, I was on my own now.“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath, scanning the hallway for any sign of movement. My hand instinctively drifted toward the gun hidden beneath my jacket. I didn’t pull it out yet, but just feeling its presence steadied me a little. Whatever was waiting for me here, I wasn’t about to face it unarmed.The hallway stretched further ahead, leading to an open door on the left. The sh
MARCOThe goons gathered my weapons with smug satisfaction, tossing them onto the floor like trophies. My knife. My Glock. The backup pistol. Each piece felt like a part of me being stripped away. I clenched my jaw as the masked man stooped to pick up my gun. He held it up to the dim light, turning it over in his hand like he’d just found buried treasure.“Nice piece,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he inspected the setup. “Who’s your plug, Marco? This stuff’s top-tier. Custom job? Or do you just know the right people?”I didn’t respond, glaring at him in silence. My hands itched to grab it back, to feel the weight of it in my palm, but my wrists were bound tightly behind my back.“Not much of a talker, are you?” he continued, pacing slowly in front of me. He raised the gun and mimed aiming it, letting out a low whistle. “Damn. This feels good. Might keep it. Hope you don’t mind.”I didn’t take the bait. Instead, I focused on what they hadn’t found—the tiny chip in my boo
MARCOI stared at the scene before me, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and regrets. Tony lay crumpled on the floor, motionless, and Petrov wasn’t faring any better. My eyes darted back to Danzo, standing tall and smug, his expression carved with triumph. His words echoed in my head, striking me like a hammer with every repetition: This is where your poor planning has gotten you.Poor planning.Was that really it? Was it my fault that Tony and Petrov had been brought to this state? That Sarah was here, caught in Danzo’s grasp, her wide, fearful eyes pleading silently for a rescue I wasn’t sure I could give?You should’ve seen this coming, Marco, I thought bitterly.Danzo had been working against me from the shadows, a viper I had failed to notice until it was too late. But was it just him? Had I been so blind, so arrogant, to think that I had anticipated everything? My chest tightened as my mind spiraled further.Tony’s bloodied face flashed in my mind, followed by Petrov’s ragged brea
MARCO“Tony!” I choked out, the word barely escaping my lips as I turned toward the source.He was on the ground, his body crumpled awkwardly, blood pouring from his side. The crimson stain spread across the floor, pooling beneath him like some sick painting. My heart stopped as I stared at the scene, every ounce of air in my lungs evaporating.“No… no, no, no,” I stammered, stepping back instinctively, my boot catching in the slick blood pooling around him. I staggered, almost falling, my mind spinning.“Tony!” I called again, my voice cracking as if saying his name louder would wake him, make him look at me, make him respond. But he didn’t. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, his eyes fluttering as if he was fighting to stay conscious.Danzo’s laugh broke through the chaos—a guttural, maniacal cackle that made my blood boil.“Ah, the mighty Marco. Look at you now,” he sneered. His voice was sharp, cutting through my panic like a razor. “I told you, didn’t I? You thin
MARCOThe air in the room crackled with tension as I leveled the gun at Danzo, my finger firm against the trigger. He took a step back, his eyes darting between me and the scattered bodies of his men. For a second, I thought I saw fear, but it vanished just as quickly, replaced by that damn smirk he always wore, like he still had the upper hand.“It’s over for you, Danzo,” I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through me. “You might want to think twice before doing anything stupid.”He scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. His hand twitched near his side, hovering too close to the gun strapped there.“I mean it!” I barked, raising my voice. “You even so much as look at that gun, and you’ll die here, right now. No last words. No bargaining. Just done.”Danzo froze for a heartbeat, his hand still dangerously close to his weapon. “You don’t have it in you, Marco,” he sneered. “You think you’re the tough one, don’t you? You think you’re the hero in all of this?”“Shut up.” My
MARCOThe sound of gunfire outside was getting closer, louder. Each shot echoed like a drumbeat of inevitability, and I could see the panic setting in on Danzo’s face. His eyes darted around the room as though searching for an escape that wasn’t there.“You hear that, Danzo?” I said, leaning back in my chair. My wrists were still tied, but my voice was steady. “That’s the sound of your grand plan crumbling. Everything you set up here? It’s falling apart. And you’re dying here today.”Danzo’s head snapped toward me, his jaw tightening. For a second, he looked like he was going to lunge at me, but he held back. Instead, he pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt, his fingers gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.“Status!” he barked into the device, pacing in tight circles like a cornered animal. “What’s going on out there?”There was a pause on the other end, filled with static and the faint sound of chaos—shouting, gunfire, something heavy crashing to the ground. Finally, a vo
MARCO The ropes around my wrists burned as I strained against them, my jaw tight enough to crack a tooth. Danzo paced back and forth like a predator toying with its prey, his smirk wide and arrogant. His voice dripped with satisfaction, every word landing like a calculated blow. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he said, pausing to glance at me. “All this… it’s personal, Marco. You made it personal the moment you threw me to the wolves.” I stared him down, refusing to let the venom in his words show any effect. “You think I’m afraid of you?” “Oh, I don’t need you to be afraid. Not yet, anyway,” he said, laughing softly. “But you should be. You always underestimated me, Marco. Always thought I’d stay in your shadow, didn’t you?” I said nothing, focusing instead on Sarah, who sat just a few feet away, bound and trembling. Her eyes met mine, and the fear in them sliced through me like a blade. Danzo followed my gaze and chuckled darkly. “Ah, yes. The princess. Don’t worry, Ma
MARCOThe goons gathered my weapons with smug satisfaction, tossing them onto the floor like trophies. My knife. My Glock. The backup pistol. Each piece felt like a part of me being stripped away. I clenched my jaw as the masked man stooped to pick up my gun. He held it up to the dim light, turning it over in his hand like he’d just found buried treasure.“Nice piece,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he inspected the setup. “Who’s your plug, Marco? This stuff’s top-tier. Custom job? Or do you just know the right people?”I didn’t respond, glaring at him in silence. My hands itched to grab it back, to feel the weight of it in my palm, but my wrists were bound tightly behind my back.“Not much of a talker, are you?” he continued, pacing slowly in front of me. He raised the gun and mimed aiming it, letting out a low whistle. “Damn. This feels good. Might keep it. Hope you don’t mind.”I didn’t take the bait. Instead, I focused on what they hadn’t found—the tiny chip in my boo
MARCOThe silence inside the narrow hallway was almost unbearable. The dim, flickering light above me buzzed faintly, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. My boots clicked softly on the metal floor as I moved further in, my breaths shallow and controlled. Every step felt heavier than the last, each one carrying me deeper into uncertainty.“Petrov,” I whispered, pressing a finger to the mic in my ear. “Petrov, can you hear me?”Nothing. Just static.I paused, my heart thudding harder as the realization hit me. The connection was dead. Whether it was deliberate or accidental, I was on my own now.“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath, scanning the hallway for any sign of movement. My hand instinctively drifted toward the gun hidden beneath my jacket. I didn’t pull it out yet, but just feeling its presence steadied me a little. Whatever was waiting for me here, I wasn’t about to face it unarmed.The hallway stretched further ahead, leading to an open door on the left. The sh
MARCOThe night air clung to me like a heavy cloak, thick with tension and the metallic scent of salt from the nearby docks. As I stepped out of the car, the first thing I did was adjust the mic in my ear. Petrov’s faint voice buzzed briefly in the connection, a reminder that I wasn’t entirely alone in this. But still, the silence surrounding me felt absolute, broken only by the distant hum of machinery and the soft crunch of gravel under my boots.My hand hovered close to my side, grazing the cold steel of the gun tucked under my jacket. I didn’t draw it, not yet, but the feel of it was a small comfort. The shipyard was a maze of shadows and towering containers, each one a potential hiding place. My eyes darted left, then right, sweeping for movement. Nothing. Not yet.“Marco, can you hear me?” Petrov’s voice crackled in my ear, low but clear.I pressed the mic lightly. “Loud and clear.”“Good,” he replied. “We’ve got eyes on the perimeter. Cameras are feeding us everything in real t
MARCOThe room was silent except for the smooth metallic sound of zippers being undone as Dimitri revealed his collection. The bag laid open on the table like a treasure chest—polished steel and black carbon shining under the dim light. Dimitri, ever the perfectionist, straightened the weapons out with precision, each gun lined up like soldiers ready for inspection.“Don Marco,” Dimitri began, his voice low and steady, “everything here is the best of the best. Tuned to your specifications. You know me—I don’t do sloppy.”I stepped forward, running my hand along the cold steel of a semi-automatic. It felt good in my hand, the weight just right, balanced and deadly. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” I said, cocking the gun to feel its mechanism. Smooth. No drag.Dimitri’s lips quirked into the faintest smile. “Try it out. The recoil on that one is practically non-existent. It’s custom-built for speed and precision. The kind of weapon that doesn’t just take a man down—it sends a message.”I r