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
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.
We pulled up two blocks from the warehouse. The SUV came to a slow crawl and stopped, engine running low, like it didn’t want to be heard. The street was dead. Not a single soul out. No cars. No movement. Just the faint buzz of streetlights and the wind dragging trash down the road.I stared out the window, eyes locked on the building sitting in the middle of the block like it was waiting for something to happen. Cracked bricks, rusted windows, a chain-link fence barely standing, like the place was already giving up. But I knew better. That warehouse wasn’t empty. It was hiding something. Hiding her.I turned and looked at the crew. Tony in the front, sliding a mag into his piece, no emotion on his face. Petrov behind me, checking his rifle, smooth and silent. The other two, focused, guns in their laps, eyes on me. Nobody said a word. They didn’t need to. We weren’t here to talk. We were here to finish this.I gave a slow nod. They moved. Tony and the guy beside him slipped out to the
MARCOI stepped closer. My hands were shaking. I didn’t even notice until my fingers touched the edge of the blindfold. The cloth was damp, smelled like sweat and piss. My throat felt dry as I slowly pulled it off.My heart was hammering so hard I thought it would break through my chest. I was ready. Ready to see her face. Ready to pull her into me, to tell her it was over, that I came for her, that I wasn’t too late.The blindfold dropped to the floor.And everything stopped.It wasn’t her.The light from the hallway hit her face and I just stood there. Frozen. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Blonde hair, yeah. But the face… not Sarah. Too narrow, older, bruised. Mouth cracked, lip bleeding, cheeks hollow like she hadn’t eaten in days.My whole body went cold. My vision blurred for a second. I blinked hard. I kept looking at her like somehow she’d shift into Sarah. Like maybe the drugs or the light or my eyes were lying to me. I stepped back once, then forward again.I whispered it
MARCOI sat silently in the SUV, my head leaning against the window, watching the city pass by like it didn’t just eat me alive. The lights, the streets, the people… all of it blurred together while my mind stayed locked on that damn warehouse. My jaw clenched. I didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say.Marcel played me. He fucking played me like a damn puppet. The whole thing was a trap from the start. He knew we were coming. He was ten steps ahead of us, watching, laughing. Every bullet we spent, every man we lost, every second we wasted thinking we were doing something smart… it was all for nothing. We didn’t win anything. We didn’t find Sarah. That wasn’t Sarah.I whispered it to myself, bitter and broken. “He planned it all. He knew we were coming. He really planted that girl there to make me think that was Sarah.”Petrov kept driving like he always does, calm and quiet. Tony sat beside me, looking straight ahead, no words. What could they say? They knew. They felt it too. Bu
MARCELShe sat just like always. On the edge of the bed. Back straight. Hands stiff in her lap. Eyes locked on the window like it had something new to show her. It didn’t. Just the same damn walls, same sky, same guards outside.I sat across from her, cigarette between my fingers, legs crossed. Quiet at first. I wanted her to feel it. The silence. The weight of me just watching.“You look thinner,” I said.She didn’t turn. Didn’t blink.“How long has it been now? Weeks? Maybe more.” I smiled a little. “Still haven’t settled in, huh?”She didn’t answer.“Don’t gotta be like this. You know that.”She turned her head halfway, eyes meeting mine. Cold, tired eyes. “What do you want?”I shrugged. “Conversation. It’s been too damn quiet around here. Figured we could talk.”“You can talk. I’m not interested.”That made me chuckle. “You always had bite, I’ll give you that. Strong. Loyal too. I can respect that. But you’re wasting it, Sarah.”She looked away again. Back to the window like she m
MARCOI stood in front of the board again. Maps. Pins. Strings. Scribbled notes. All of it looking back at me like it had answers. But it didn’t. Not yet.The Bronx setup still replayed in my head. That moment when I saw her. The fake her. How sure I was. The way her hair smelled. Her trembling hands. For a second, I let myself believe it was Sarah. I let my guard down. I walked right into Marcel’s damn show. And he played me like a fool.I stepped closer to the board, staring at a red pin that marked another location upstate. The lead had was still weak, a whisper from a runner who barely made it out alive. But I kept it. I kept every maybe. Because right now, a maybe was all I had.I dragged my fingers through my hair, jaw tight. Every goddamn angle I took just looped me back here. To this board. This silence. And her still missing.“Where the fuck are you, Sarah?” I muttered.The room was dim. Just the lamp by the desk on. Everyone in the house knew to stay away when that light was
SARAH The bakery smelled of fresh bread and cinnamon, a comforting aroma that greeted me every morning. I enjoyed the simplicity of our life. Our bakery, though it was small and modest, it was our pride and joy. Papa, had poured his heart and soul into this place, and it was a decent addiction to our community. “Good morning, Mrs. Alvarez! The usual?” I asked, already reaching for a loaf of brown bread. “Good morning, Sarah. Yes, please,” she replied with a warm smile. Handing her the loaf, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride. Despite the financial struggles and the countless hours of hard work, I loved every moment spent here. My father and I shared a close bond, working side by side to keep our beloved bakery running. After Mrs. Alvarez left, I returned to kneading dough, humming softly to the tune playing on the radio. My father was in the back, preparing a new batch of new dough. The old Spanish tunes on the radio filled the space with nostalgia, reminding me of my mo
MARCOI stood in front of the board again. Maps. Pins. Strings. Scribbled notes. All of it looking back at me like it had answers. But it didn’t. Not yet.The Bronx setup still replayed in my head. That moment when I saw her. The fake her. How sure I was. The way her hair smelled. Her trembling hands. For a second, I let myself believe it was Sarah. I let my guard down. I walked right into Marcel’s damn show. And he played me like a fool.I stepped closer to the board, staring at a red pin that marked another location upstate. The lead had was still weak, a whisper from a runner who barely made it out alive. But I kept it. I kept every maybe. Because right now, a maybe was all I had.I dragged my fingers through my hair, jaw tight. Every goddamn angle I took just looped me back here. To this board. This silence. And her still missing.“Where the fuck are you, Sarah?” I muttered.The room was dim. Just the lamp by the desk on. Everyone in the house knew to stay away when that light was
MARCELShe sat just like always. On the edge of the bed. Back straight. Hands stiff in her lap. Eyes locked on the window like it had something new to show her. It didn’t. Just the same damn walls, same sky, same guards outside.I sat across from her, cigarette between my fingers, legs crossed. Quiet at first. I wanted her to feel it. The silence. The weight of me just watching.“You look thinner,” I said.She didn’t turn. Didn’t blink.“How long has it been now? Weeks? Maybe more.” I smiled a little. “Still haven’t settled in, huh?”She didn’t answer.“Don’t gotta be like this. You know that.”She turned her head halfway, eyes meeting mine. Cold, tired eyes. “What do you want?”I shrugged. “Conversation. It’s been too damn quiet around here. Figured we could talk.”“You can talk. I’m not interested.”That made me chuckle. “You always had bite, I’ll give you that. Strong. Loyal too. I can respect that. But you’re wasting it, Sarah.”She looked away again. Back to the window like she m
MARCOI sat silently in the SUV, my head leaning against the window, watching the city pass by like it didn’t just eat me alive. The lights, the streets, the people… all of it blurred together while my mind stayed locked on that damn warehouse. My jaw clenched. I didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say.Marcel played me. He fucking played me like a damn puppet. The whole thing was a trap from the start. He knew we were coming. He was ten steps ahead of us, watching, laughing. Every bullet we spent, every man we lost, every second we wasted thinking we were doing something smart… it was all for nothing. We didn’t win anything. We didn’t find Sarah. That wasn’t Sarah.I whispered it to myself, bitter and broken. “He planned it all. He knew we were coming. He really planted that girl there to make me think that was Sarah.”Petrov kept driving like he always does, calm and quiet. Tony sat beside me, looking straight ahead, no words. What could they say? They knew. They felt it too. Bu
MARCOI stepped closer. My hands were shaking. I didn’t even notice until my fingers touched the edge of the blindfold. The cloth was damp, smelled like sweat and piss. My throat felt dry as I slowly pulled it off.My heart was hammering so hard I thought it would break through my chest. I was ready. Ready to see her face. Ready to pull her into me, to tell her it was over, that I came for her, that I wasn’t too late.The blindfold dropped to the floor.And everything stopped.It wasn’t her.The light from the hallway hit her face and I just stood there. Frozen. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Blonde hair, yeah. But the face… not Sarah. Too narrow, older, bruised. Mouth cracked, lip bleeding, cheeks hollow like she hadn’t eaten in days.My whole body went cold. My vision blurred for a second. I blinked hard. I kept looking at her like somehow she’d shift into Sarah. Like maybe the drugs or the light or my eyes were lying to me. I stepped back once, then forward again.I whispered it
We pulled up two blocks from the warehouse. The SUV came to a slow crawl and stopped, engine running low, like it didn’t want to be heard. The street was dead. Not a single soul out. No cars. No movement. Just the faint buzz of streetlights and the wind dragging trash down the road.I stared out the window, eyes locked on the building sitting in the middle of the block like it was waiting for something to happen. Cracked bricks, rusted windows, a chain-link fence barely standing, like the place was already giving up. But I knew better. That warehouse wasn’t empty. It was hiding something. Hiding her.I turned and looked at the crew. Tony in the front, sliding a mag into his piece, no emotion on his face. Petrov behind me, checking his rifle, smooth and silent. The other two, focused, guns in their laps, eyes on me. Nobody said a word. They didn’t need to. We weren’t here to talk. We were here to finish this.I gave a slow nod. They moved. Tony and the guy beside him slipped out to the
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