SARAHI was still trying to wrap my head around what Marco had just done. He had walked into the manager’s office and walked out with a smile, declaring he’d bought the café. Part of me was skeptical, wondering if this sudden kindness would come with some sort of backlash when we got home. Was this just another way to control me, to keep me under his thumb? Or was it possible that he genuinely wanted to make things better?As I sat there, more relaxed now, I started to appreciate the beauty of the café. The warm lighting, the cozy seating, and the soft hum of conversation created an inviting atmosphere. I looked around, my eyes landing on a couple playing with their little daughter at a nearby table. They seemed so happy, their laughter light and carefree.“Daddy, catch me!” the little girl squealed as she darted around the table, her tiny feet padding softly on the floor.Her father chuckled, pretending to reach for her but missing on purpose. “Oh no, she’s too fast for me!” he excla
SARAHI couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. Marco had actually shown care, and it was throwing me off. My mind kept replaying the moment our hands touched. It was weirdly intimate, and it made me shy to look up at him.I poked at my meal, trying to focus on the food. Marco broke the silence, his voice warm. “So, do you love the meal?”I looked up quickly, trying to clear my head. “Yeah, it’s really good. Thanks for picking it out.”He smiled and leaned back, looking more relaxed. “You know, this place used to be one of my favorites. My grandma used to bring me here all the time when I was a kid.”I blinked, surprised. “Really? I didn’t know you had such good memories of this place.”“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “She always said their risotto was the best. We’d come here for special occasions, and she’d make a big deal about the food. I loved it.”He laughed softly, a nostalgic look in his eyes. “She was really into food. We’d have these long dinners where she’d tell stor
SARAHThe waitress came back, carrying a bottle of vintage port and two glasses. She set them down with a polite smile and asked, “Shall I pour for you?”Marco shook his head. “No, we’ve got this. Thank you, though.”The waitress gave a slight nod. “Very well. If you need anything else, just let me know.”Marco turned his attention back to me with a playful glint in his eyes. “You ready for this?”I nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and resolve. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”He chuckled, picking up the bottle. “Alright then. Here goes.”As he began to pour the wine, I glanced at the waitress, who was still hovering nearby. She seemed curious about our exchange, her eyes darting between us.“Looks like you’ve got an audience,” I said to Marco, tilting my head towards the waitress.Marco looked over and grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”The waitress smiled again, a bit more genuinely this time. “Enjoy your evening,” she said, finally turning to leave.Marco poured the rich, dark wine into
SARAHI woke up with a pounding headache, the kind that felt like someone was hammering inside my skull. Groaning, I opened my eyes and blinked against the bright light filtering through the curtains. It took a moment for my vision to clear, and when it did, I realized I was in my room. But how did I get here?Panic bubbled up as I tried to piece together the fragments of last night. I sat up slowly, my head throbbing with every movement. I looked around, searching for any clues that might explain how I ended up here.The last thing I remembered was being at the café with Marco, the bet, and the wine. But everything after that was a blur. I couldn’t recall how I got from the café to my bed.“Marco?” I called out, my voice hoarse. There was no response. “Marco?”I waited, but the silence was deafening. Yelling made my headache worse, so I decided to calm down and think. I took a deep breath and tried to focus.That’s when I noticed my clothes. I was wearing something different from wha
MARCOI sat in my study, the morning light filtering through the large windows, casting shadows across the room. The newspaper lay on my desk, and I picked it up, skimming through the headlines. It was the usual mix of political drama, business failures, and celebrity scandals. Nothing particularly interesting, nothing that couldn’t be solved with a few well-placed threats or a strategic buyout.“Idiots,” I muttered, shaking my head at the ineptitude of the so-called leaders in this city. They always managed to screw things up, no matter how easy the solution seemed. Setting the paper down, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath. The world outside might be chaotic, but in here, I controlled everything. Or at least, I liked to think I did.But then my thoughts drifted, and I found myself thinking about Sarah again. More specifically, about that bastard Cain, the one who had dared to lay a hand on her at Lemuel’s party. The thought of it made my blood boil. I could still see th
MARCOI narrowed my eyes, taking a step closer to Cain. His words replayed in my mind, over and over, like a broken record. Marcel. I couldn’t afford to take this lightly.“Where did you hear that name?” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous. I needed to know if this scum had any real connection to Marcel or if he was just trying to save his own skin.Cain’s eyes darted around the room, wild with desperation. “Everyone in the dark side of society knows the name Marcel,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “But I… I can lead you to him. Just… please, spare my life.”For a moment, I said nothing, weighing his words carefully. Then I signaled to Tony to put his gun away. The room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I turned to Tony and Carlos, searching their faces for any sign of what they thought.“What do you think?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. “Is he bluffing?”Carlos didn’t hesitate. “He could be faking it, boss. Trying to buy himself time. For all we kno
SARAHMartha had already started trimming the hedges when I joined her in the garden. The sun was warm, not too harsh, and a light breeze made the leaves dance gently around us. I watched her for a moment, admiring the precision of her work. But there was something about just sitting around doing nothing that drove me insane, especially lately. I needed to keep my hands busy, to feel like I was contributing something, anything, to this place.“Martha,” I called out, walking over to her. “Let me help you with that.”She looked up, startled, and immediately shook her head. “Oh no, Miss Sarah. Please, you shouldn’t trouble yourself with this. It’s my job. I can handle it.”I smiled, trying to reassure her. “I know it’s your job, but I’m bored out of my mind. I need something to do, and helping you here seems like a good way to pass the time.”Martha’s eyes widened in alarm, and she stepped in front of the hedge clippers as if to guard them from me. “No, Miss Sarah. I couldn’t possibly al
MARCOI sat in my office, spinning a pocket knife between my fingers, the faint glint of the blade catching the dim light. The motion helped me think, a small distraction from the conversation we were about to have. Tony, Carlos, and Luis stood before me, waiting for my signal to start. “Alright, Tony, what have you got?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the blade.Tony cleared his throat, stepping forward slightly. “According to Cain, this Marcel guy works as a mercenary for various families. That’s about all he knows. Why Marcel’s interested in us or what he’s doing in New York? No clue. Cain wasn’t much help beyond that.”I stopped the blade mid-spin, gripping the handle firmly as I looked up. “So, we’re dealing with a ghost, huh? No clear motives, just someone lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.”Carlos chimed in, trying to downplay the situation. “Look, Marco, we don’t have to get worked up over this. We pop in, take the small fry out, and go about our
MARCOThe flashbang was still working its magic as I stumbled forward, my vision blurry and my ears ringing like an alarm clock from hell. But there was no time to wait for things to settle. The moment the light hit, I felt the chaos erupt behind me—grunts, shouts, the clatter of boots on the floor.Instinct kicked in. The first guy behind me was flailing around, clutching his face like someone had poured hot sauce directly into his eyes. I took the opportunity, jabbing my elbow into his ribs with enough force to knock the air out of him. He let out a strangled wheeze and crumpled like a cheap folding chair.Unfortunately, his buddy wasn’t as incapacitated. The second man had somehow managed to pull out his gun, though he was aiming like he’d never used his eyes a day in his life. The first shot rang out, going wide and hitting a piece of metal somewhere to my left.“Great aim, sharpshooter,” I muttered, yanking the first guy’s body up as a human shield. The next shot hit him square i
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