SARAHI stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables while Maria worked beside me, stirring a pot on the stove. Since the incident with Marco, Maria and I had grown close. Her steady presence was a comfort in this twisted world.“Maria,” I started, glancing at her. “You’ve been working for Marco for a while, right?”Maria nodded, her eyes focused on the simmering soup. “Yes, it’s been almost five years now.”“Why did you take the job?” I asked, genuinely curious. “I mean, working for someone like Marco… it can’t be easy.”Maria smiled wistfully. “It’s a long story, Sarah. But if you’re really interested, I’ll tell you.”I set the knife down and turned to face her, eager to hear more. “I’d love to know. Please, tell me.”Maria took a deep breath, her hands never stopping their work. “I grew up in a small village, far from the city. We were poor, but my parents did their best to provide for us. I had three younger siblings, and I helped take care of them.”I listened intently, picturing a
SARAHWalking down the hallway with the maid, my heart pounded with every step. The air felt thick with anticipation, and I tried to steady my breathing. The maid knocked on Marco’s door, her knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. “Miss Sarah is here,” she announced, her voice steady and formal. She turned to me, offering a polite curtsey before walking away, leaving me to face whatever lay beyond that door.“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in my chest, and stepped into the room.Marco’s room was lavish, more so than I had imagined. The deep, rich colors of the decor exuded a certain opulence, yet there was an unexpected warmth that made the space feel oddly welcoming. It was a stark contrast to the man who occupied it—so much like him, yet so different. I realized then that I had never been in here before, and the thought intrigued me. I couldn’t help but take in every detail, my eyes roving over the int
SARAHStorming down the hallway, I barely registered the maid who had escorted me. My mind was a whirlwind of anger and disbelief. Marco’s audacity was beyond anything I had ever encountered. First, he tried to seduce me, and then, without missing a beat, he demanded I accompany him to a party.When I finally reached my room, I slammed the door shut behind me, leaning against it to catch my breath. My skin still tingled from his touch, but the anger burning in my chest quickly overwhelmed any lingering sensation.“How dare he?” I muttered to myself, pacing the room. “How dare he think he can control me like that?”I glanced at the clock. I had a few hours before this supposed party, and the thought of seeing him again made my blood boil. I walked over to the window and looked out at the sprawling estate. The idea of playing his game made me sick, but I knew I couldn’t let him think he had won. Not this time.“No,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head. “I won’t let it go his way. I’l
SARAHWhen we arrived at the party, the first thing I noticed was the elegant atmosphere. The grand ballroom was adorned with glittering chandeliers, and the guests, all dressed in their finest attire, moved gracefully across the floor. The theme of the night was a masquerade, and as we walked in, a server handed us both ornate masks.I looked at my mask, a delicate creation with silver and blue feathers. I slipped it on, feeling a little more hidden, a little safer behind its cover. Marco’s mask was black and gold, giving him an even more intimidating presence.As we walked further into the party, I took in the scenery. The room was filled with opulence—rich, dark wood paneling, plush velvet drapes, and tables set with elaborate centerpieces. The music, a soft classical piece, added to the air of sophistication.Marco’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him. The possessiveness of the gesture made my skin crawl, but I forced myself to keep a neutral expression. He glan
SARAHAs I danced with the man, I kept glancing over his shoulder, trying to catch Marco’s eye. Each time I thought of Marco watching, a thrill ran through me. This was my way of getting back at him, of showing him that he couldn’t control me.The man I was dancing with was handsome and charming, but I barely registered his features. My mind was fixed on Marco. The music slowed down, shifting to a soft, romantic tune. My partner took this as a cue to pull me closer.“Come closer,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting.I cringed inwardly at the idea, but I steeled myself. I was determined to see this through. “Of course,” I said, moving closer to him, feeling his hands settle on my waist.I could just hope that Marco’s gaze was burning into us from across the room. I leaned into my partner, resting my head against his shoulder. It felt awkward, but I pushed through the discomfort, focusing on my goal. This was for Marco to see, to make him realize that I was not just a pawn in his ga
SARAHI couldn't believe what I had just heard. My heart raced, and I took a step back, glaring at Cain. "Don't you dare come any closer," I warned, my voice trembling slightly.He took a step forward, a sinister smile spreading across his face. "What are you going to do, Sarah?" he taunted. "Scream?"I kept moving back, my eyes darting around the room for any possible escape route. "Stay away from me, Cain," I demanded, my voice firmer this time.But he didn't stop. He kept moving closer and closer, his eyes darkening with every step. My back hit the wall, and I felt a cold sweat break out across my skin. "I will scream if you take one more step," I threatened, my voice rising in desperation.Cain laughed, a chilling sound that echoed off the walls. "Go ahead and scream," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "No one can hear you anyway."I could feel the panic rising in my chest, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. "Stay back," I repeated, my voice shaking. "I'm warning you."But
SARAHAs we walked out of the room, Marco’s arm firmly around my shoulders, we were suddenly confronted by Mr. Lemuel. He looked frantic and concerned, his eyes darting between Marco and me.“Marco please, I am so sorry about what happened. I promise you, I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Mr. Lemuel said, his voice trembling with genuine regret.Marco waved him off, his expression calm but firm. “It’s not your fault, Lemuel. There’s no need to apologize. But we’re leaving.”Lemuel looked desperate to make amends. “Please, Marco, stay a little longer. We can sort this out. You’re a valued guest, and I want to ensure your evening ends on a better note.”Marco shook his head. “No, really. Everything’s fine, but we must leave now.”Lemuel’s eyes pleaded with us to stay. “I understand your frustration, but please, Marco, give me a chance to make this right. Let me offer you some refreshments, perhaps a quiet place to relax. The night doesn’t have to end like this.”Marco’s grip on my should
SARAHAs we walked to the café, I was still trying to wrap my head around Marco’s sudden kindness. The outside of the café looked modest, but as soon as we stepped inside, I was pleasantly surprised. The interior was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and cozy seating.A waiter approached us almost immediately. “Good evening,” he said with a polite smile. “I’m John. Welcome to our café. Do you have a reservation?”Marco shook his head. “No, we don’t.”John’s smile faltered slightly. “I’m sorry, but we usually require reservations. It helps us manage our space better. I recommend you come back another time with a booking.”I felt a pang of disappointment. It was a small thing, but after everything tonight, I had hoped for this small comfort. Marco noticed my expression and turned back to John.“Look, we’ve had a really rough night. Is there any way you can fit us in? We won’t take long, just a quick coffee to unwind,” Marco said, his voice firm but polite.John barely acknowledged M
MARCOAs we moved closer to the warehouse, the world around us shifted. No more breathing room. No more second chances. I lifted my hand, fingers moving in sharp signals the team knew by heart. Petrov and Gio broke off fast, slipping into the tree line to handle the chaos. Their job was simple: create enough noise, enough blood, to keep Marcel’s eyes off me. My job was simpler. Get to Sarah. Bring her home.I moved ahead, leading my half of the team. Tony and Denis stayed tight behind me, heading toward the wing where Denis swore they kept her. The woods around us swallowed the sound of our boots, every step careful, every move sharp. The cold night clung to my skin, biting a little, but I welcomed it. It kept me awake. It kept me locked in.Up ahead, a small light flickered behind a tree line. I crouched low, holding my fist up to stop the others. Two guards patrolled near the inner fence, walking lazy, rifles slung low, no care in their step.I looked at Tony and jerked my chin towa
MARCOThe safehouse stank of sweat and gun oil. It had been a day now. One long, heavy day. I stood over the table, arms braced against the wood, staring down at the maps, the grainy photos, the scribbled notes we had piled together. Every street, every guard rotation, every weak spot Marcel thought he hid. It was all laid out in front of me like a body waiting for burial.The guys were scattered around the room, geared up. Tony sat sharpening a knife that didn’t need sharpening. Gio leaned against the wall, checking his pistol again and again. Petrov stood by the window, looking out like he expected hell to pull up in a car. Denis was at the far end of the table, hands flat, answering the last of our questions like a man who knew his life depended on it. It did.“Alright,” I said, my voice steady even if everything inside me was screaming. “One more time.”I tapped the map with the tip of my finger. “We roll in here. Two SUVs. No fancy shit. We stay fast, clean. Denis says the east f
ISABELLAI sat near the window with a half-full glass of wine, legs crossed, posture easy. Outside, the yard stretched quiet under soft light, the fences glowing under the dim wash of security lamps. The wind barely moved. Even the trees felt too still. It looked like peace, but it wasn’t. It was something else. Something pretending to be calm.Behind me, Marcel was laughing, his voice bouncing off the walls like this place was some damn hotel and not the cage it really was. Two of his men stood with him, drinking, cracking jokes like they didn’t have a care in the world. That’s what bothered me. They weren’t tense like they used to be. There was no edge in the air. No clipped words or extra rounds being loaded. Just pride. Stupid, loud pride.Marcel turned a bit, speaking louder now, wanting me to hear. “You know what I think?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He never does. “I think Marco’s done. Crawled into whatever hole he came out of, dragging his tail behind him. Wallowing in that
SARAHThe cold woke me before the pain did. My body was already curled tight, but it didn’t help. The chill still found its way into my bones, into my stomach, into everything. I tried to stretch, just a little, but my back screamed and my legs cramped. My head throbbed with that dull pressure that never really left. I didn’t even open my eyes right away. I just laid there, breathing through it, waiting for the nausea to pass.I was starving. And still, the idea of food made my stomach twist. It wasn’t just the baby. It was the food they brought. Cold, bland, rough like they’d scraped it off the bottom of a pan and tossed it at me out of pity. Or worse, duty. I’d thrown it up more than once. Now I just took small bites and held it down as long as I could. My throat stayed dry. My mouth too. I’d started cutting what little food I got into pieces, counting the bites like that somehow helped. It didn’t. But it gave me something to do, something to control.I turned onto my side slowly. T
MARCOThe city was already buzzing by the time I stepped into the club. Word had spread like it always did when there was fire involved. Loud. Messy. Unavoidable. The warehouse attack I sent Gio on didn’t just go up in smoke, it sent the exact message I wanted it to, just the one we wanted out there.I kept my head down as I moved past the crowd. Familiar faces, familiar noise. A few of my guys were already drinking like nothing happened, laughing like we hadn’t just made the loudest move in weeks. All part of the script. They were playing their roles. I was about to play mine.I slid into the usual booth in the back. Dark corner. Good view of the whole room. I threw my coat beside me and knocked on the table once. Bartender looked over, already moving.“Double,” I said when he got close, tapping the glass down like I needed it more than air. “And don’t stop unless I say.”Tony was leaning against the wall by the booth, arms crossed, eyes scanning the floor. He always looked like he w
MARCOThe room was quiet. Real quiet. The kind where you can hear someone blink. Denis sat across from me, hands on his knees, eyes low. Petrov leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw clenched. Tony stood by the window, one hand in his pocket, the other tapping the frame like he couldn’t stand still.I didn’t say much. I just stared at Denis. Made him squirm a little. He knew what was expected.“You can start talking,” I finally said.His head jerked up like I pulled him out of a bad dream. He looked at each of us. Then down again.“Alright,” he muttered. “I’ll talk.”He took a breath. Then it all started pouring out.“Marcel’s base isn’t at the club. That’s just his face. The real spot’s a compound in the industrial zone, the one behind the fake textile plant. Everything happens there. The trucks, the drops, the meetings.”I didn’t move. I kept watching him. Trying to see if he was holding anything back.“There’s a basement setup. Clean. Sealed. That’s where he’s keeping her. Sara
MARCELThe city looked soft from up here. All that noise, all that movement, and still, it bowed. I stood at the window in my suite, cup in hand, nothing but silence around me. That was the kind of power I liked. Quiet. Steady. It meant everything was still running how I wanted it.The espresso was hot, bitter, smooth. Just how I liked it. The robe hung loose on my shoulders. I didn’t need armor in my own kingdom. Marco was definitely out there throwing tantrums, yelling into the wind, kicking at doors no one opened. He thought if he made enough noise, something would shake loose. But that’s all it was, noise. His people were scrambling. Mine were planted.I set the cup down as I went to freshen up. I had a meeting to attend. The new head of the Rossi family.. young, loud, trying to act like he had his brother's shoes on, but everyone in the room could see the fit was wrong. He needed to be reminded who still ran the rhythm of this city.I picked a black suit. Simple. Heavy fabric. N
MARCOI stared at the dartboard across the room. Three darts were stuck in it. One near the bullseye, two scattered like they were thrown without care. I hadn’t touched it in a week. Didn’t feel like playing games. Not until we had something real.The room was quiet, just the sound of the coffee pot clicking under the small warmer. I poured myself a cup, black, no sugar. I needed to stay sharp. Petrov said he had gotten Denis, I could feel it. Something about tonight told me this was it. This was the closest I had been to getting Sarah back.I cracked my knuckles and leaned on the edge of the table, still staring at that board. One dart for Denis. One for Marcel. One for Isabella. That last one would get replaced soon, maybe with a blade. I smiled at that thought.A knock came at the door. I didn’t even turn around.“Yeah?”It was one of the guys from the main floor. “Boss. Petrov’s back. He says he’s downstairs. Dungeon.”I took one more sip of coffee and nodded. “Alright. Let’s go s
PETROVThe engine was quiet, but I still kept my foot light on the brake. Sitting in an unmarked black car in the middle of a warehouse lot at night ain’t glamorous. It’s cold, it’s slow, and you’ve gotta know how to sit in silence without letting it eat you up.Gio sat beside me, chewing on a toothpick. He didn’t say much. That’s why I liked him. Good eyes, sharper hands. One of Marco’s quiet soldiers, but sharp enough to make noise when it counted.I flicked the ash of my cigarette out the half-cracked window. The smoke stayed low inside the car, curling slow, the way my thoughts moved when I was on a tail. We weren’t here to guess. We were here to read the pattern.“He’s in there,” I muttered. “Warehouse across the lot. Denis. Carrying a duffel. No escort.”Gio nodded once. Didn’t need to speak. He knew what that meant. For a guy like Denis, showing up solo? Out of place. Logistics men don’t walk around without backup unless they’re doing something they ain’t supposed to.“Somethin