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
MARCOI had Cain sit in the middle of the room, his hands shaking as Tony and the others surrounded him. His face was pale, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as he tried to keep himself together. I walked up to him slowly, my gun hanging loosely from my hand, swinging slightly as I moved. The room was dead silent except for the sound of Cain’s shaky breaths.I stopped in front of him, tilting my head slightly as I studied him. “So, Cain,” I started, my voice low, almost a whisper, “you still want to lead us to Marcel? Or should I just put a bullet in you right now and save us all the trouble?”Cain’s eyes widened, and he immediately started to beg, his voice quivering with fear. “Please, Marco… I’ll lead you to Marcel. I swear. Just… just spare my life, alright? I’ll do whatever it takes, just don’t kill me.”I looked at him for a long moment, weighing his words. He was desperate, that much was clear, but desperation could make a man dangerous—or it could make him useful. I nee
MARCOI paced back and forth across the room, the tension building with each step. My mind raced through every possible scenario, every potential snag that could derail this plan. There wasn’t room for mistakes. Not now.Petrov sat hunched over his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He had been at it for hours, trying to get eyes on the address Marcel had sent. It was a waiting game, but my patience was wearing thin.I stopped mid-step and turned to him, my voice edged with urgency. “Petrov, you got surveillance on the address yet?”Without looking up, Petrov grunted. “Almost there, Marco. Just a few more minutes.”I clenched my fists, trying to keep my frustration in check. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity. “Hurry up,” I snapped. “We don’t have time to waste.”Petrov didn’t respond, too focused on his task. I resumed my pacing, the floorboards creaking under my boots. The room was stifling, the air thick with anticipation. I couldn’t shake the feeling that
MARCOI paced around the control room, feeling the weight of the plan on my shoulders. The surveillance monitors blinked with static and video feeds from various cameras around the target area. Tony was hunched over a desk, scribbling notes, his eyes never leaving the screens. We were all on edge, waiting for Cain to make his move.“Keep your eyes sharp,” I said to Tony. “We need every detail.”He nodded, adjusting the volume on the mic. “Got it.”The screens showed a steady stream of people passing by, along with a few suspicious cars. I tried to ignore the gnawing worry in my gut. This was a delicate operation. One slip-up, and it could all fall apart.Suddenly, I spotted Cain walking into the frame. My heart skipped a beat. I glanced at Tony, who was already focusing on the feed.Petrov’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Cain, do you read me?”Cain’s reply came through clearly. “Loud and clear.”“Good,” Petrov said, sounding calm but authoritative. “Describe the place for me.
MARCOI watched the screen, my pulse quickening as I saw Cain stepping out of Marcel’s roaming the building. Petrov was still fiddling with the equipment, cursing under his breath as he tried to reconnect the wiretap that had suddenly gone silent.Tony paced the room, a deep frown etched on his face. “Marco, we should wait. Cain might be leading us into a trap. Let’s give this some time, observe what Marcel does next.”I shook my head, not even entertaining the idea. “I’ve waited long enough, Tony. Marcel’s right there, and I’m not about to let this opportunity slip through my fingers because Cain decided to pull a stunt.”“Marco,” Tony said, his tone more urgent. “This could be exactly what Marcel wants—get you angry, reckless. You go in there, and it could be a one-way ticket.”I glared at the screen, my jaw tight. I’d worked too hard, come too close to let fear hold me back now. “I don’t care if it’s a trap. Marcel’s been a ghost, always two steps ahead of us. Now, I’ve got a chanc
MARCOTony and I walked into the building, every sense on high alert. The place was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The walls were bare, stripped down to concrete and steel, with only the faint echo of our footsteps to break the silence. I glanced at Tony, who was scanning the area with that same cautious look. Something wasn’t right, and we both knew it.I pressed my hand to my earpiece. “Petrov, you seeing anything on surveillance? It’s too damn quiet in here.”There was a pause, then Petrov’s voice crackled through, low and tense. “Not much, boss. The cameras are picking up some minor movement, but nothing definitive. Stay sharp. Could be they’re lying in wait.”I cursed under my breath. “We’ll proceed with caution, but keep your eyes peeled. If anything changes, you let us know immediately.”“Will do,” Petrov replied before the line went silent again.I nodded to Tony, and we moved forward, sticking close to the walls, our foot
MARCOThe cold metal of the gun pressed against my neck as I slowly dropped my own weapon, letting it clatter to the floor. I turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse of the man holding the gun. Cain. The sight of him sparked a fresh wave of anger that roared through me. I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him.“You,” I growled, my voice low and venomous. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”Cain’s lips curled into a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming with a mix of triumph and mockery. “Ah, but you didn’t, did you?” he taunted, a cruel laugh escaping his throat. “You were foolish enough to believe my act, Marco. And now look where that’s gotten you.”I wanted to lunge at him, to wipe that smug grin off his face, but I knew better. Not with the gun so close to my throat, not with Tony bleeding out on the floor just a few feet away. The bitter taste of betrayal sat heavy on my tongue. I had trusted Cain, given him a chance, and now he was the one holding my life in his hands.
MARCOI stood there, feeling the cold steel of Marcel’s gun pressed on me, the weight of the situation sinking in. My mind raced, but I couldn’t see a way out. This was it. I could feel the darkness closing in, could almost taste the bitterness of defeat.But then, like a beacon in the storm, an image of Sarah flashed through my mind. Her face, her smile—everything I had fought for, everything I was about to lose. I had to stay alive. Not for me, but for her. I wasn’t going to let Marcel take me out, not yet.Just as I was about to give in to despair, I heard Petrov’s voice crackle through the wire in my ear. “Marco, Carlos and Luis are almost in position. Hold on, just a little longer. Do whatever it takes to stay alive.”A surge of hope rushed through me, giving me a renewed sense of purpose. I couldn’t let Marcel or Cain see the shift in my resolve, though. I had to play this smart, drag this out long enough for Carlos and the boys to make their move.I took a deep breath, forcing
ROSALIEThe maids helped me out of the limo, their hands gentle yet firm as though I might collapse at any moment. I felt as if my body were moving on autopilot, my feet touching the ground but not quite connecting. My eyes lifted to the cathedral before me, its towering spires stretching high into the grey morning sky. The cold stone façade looked more like a prison than a place of sanctity, its heavy doors open wide, inviting me into my fate.The weight in my chest doubled. I swallowed hard, trying to steady the trembling in my hands. The air was cool, yet I felt a bead of sweat trail down my back. Each step toward the entrance felt like a step closer to the end of everything I had ever imagined for myself.Inside, the air was thick with a heavy solemnity. Rows upon rows of unfamiliar faces turned toward me, their curious gazes piercing through my carefully constructed mask. Strangers, all of them. Not a single face offered the comfort of recognition.The decorations were stunning,
THIRD PERSONTony paced back and forth in the dimly lit living room, the glow of his phone screen casting sharp shadows across his face. The room was silent, save for the rhythmic click of his shoes against the hardwood floor and the occasional buzz of his phone as he redialed the same number for the third time.“Come on, pick up,” he muttered under his breath, glancing at the clock on the wall. His patience was wearing thin, but his determination remained intact. This was too important to let slide.Finally, the call connected, and a gruff voice on the other end answered. “Tony. Got some updates for you.”Tony stopped pacing and stood still, his focus sharpening instantly. “Yeah? What do you have?”“The guy you’re after—Victor,” the man began, his tone measured but sure. “We’ve got a handle on him. Been tracking his daily routine for a few days now. Turns out, he’s not exactly living like your average lab tech.”Tony raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on.”“Word is, he’s recently come
SARAHShowing up at the hospital to investigate felt unreal. I couldn’t shake the irony of it all—hospitals were supposed to be places of healing, sanctuaries of truth, where people put their trust in tests and results. Yet here I was, convinced that something as crucial as Marco’s DNA test had been tampered with, and the trail of deception had led me straight to the doors of this institution.Every step toward the entrance felt heavy, like I was dragging the weight of my doubts and fears behind me. This wasn’t just about Marco or Isabella anymore. It was about the truth, about justice. If someone had tampered with his test results, they had played with his life—and mine.Tony walked beside me, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket, his expression neutral but sharp. He always had this way of staying calm, of making me feel like we weren’t walking into the lion’s den. But I couldn’t help the nerves twisting in my stomach.“This is a big risk,” I muttered, breaking th
SARAHI couldn’t shake the unease in my chest, the gnawing sensation that something sinister was at play. Those messages I’d found on Isabella’s phone were like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit. Marcel—the same man who had nearly killed Marco—was texting her. Why? What was the plan? I’d spent the better part of the day wracking my brain, going over every possible scenario, but none of my conclusions gave me any comfort.Was she working with Marcel? Was this about money? Revenge? Control? My thoughts circled back to the vague instructions in those texts—keeping Marco distracted, causing turmoil. But to what end? And why was Isabella still here, moving through this house like she belonged, when every fiber of my being screamed that she didn’t?I sighed heavily, putting down the crochet hook I’d been using to try to calm my nerves. The yarn sat limp in my lap, a testament to how little I’d managed to accomplish. I wasn’t going to get anywhere sitting here and stewing in my own thoughts
SARAHThe rhythmic motion of my hands moving the crochet hook through the yarn was oddly soothing. It was one of the few things that could keep my mind calm these days. I sat on the living room couch, determined to finish the little blanket I’d started weeks ago. The soft, repetitive motion allowed me to focus on something other than the chaos that had become my life.Across the room, Isabella was lounging on another couch, scrolling through her phone. She hadn’t said a word to me since she’d entered the room, and I wasn’t about to start a conversation. The silence between us was sharp, almost suffocating, but I preferred it over whatever fake kindness she’d try to throw my way. I kept my eyes fixed on my work, ignoring her presence entirely.Every now and then, I’d hear her let out a soft laugh or the click of her nails tapping against the phone screen. It was infuriating how comfortable she seemed, sitting there like she owned the place. I tightened my grip on the yarn, forcing myse
MARCO I sat at my desk, my eyes fixed on the ledger before me. The columns of numbers blurred into one another, mocking me with their impenetrable logic. No matter how hard I tried to focus, to force my mind into the calm precision I was known for, it felt like grasping at smoke. The harder I tried, the more elusive it became. I leaned back in my chair with a sharp sigh, running a hand through my hair. The scattered papers, the quiet hum of the office—it all felt like a testament to my failure. I’d been sitting here for hours, pretending to work, trying to keep my mind from going where it always went. But nothing worked. The numbers refused to make sense, and my thoughts refused to stay in line. This wasn’t me. I was always in control. Always sharp. But lately, it felt like control had slipped through my fingers. Like the more I tried to hold onto it, the faster it unraveled. I hated the feeling. Hated that I couldn’t snap my fingers and make it all go away. I pushed back my ch
SARAH“Where did you find my bracelet?” I snapped, my voice louder than I intended, trembling with the anger that had been bubbling inside me all day. My gaze locked onto the bracelet on Isabella’s wrist—a charm bracelet I could never mistake. My bracelet. The one I had been searching for like a lunatic all morning, tearing through every corner of the house only to find it here, now, dangling mockingly from her wrist.Isabella’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile, as if my frustration amused her. “Sarah,” she said softly, in a tone so calm it only fueled my fury, “there’s no need to get so worked up. It’s just a bracelet.”“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I spat, my chair scraping loudly against the floor as I shot to my feet. The sharp sound echoed in the room, but I didn’t care. My anger had its own momentum now, unstoppable. “Where the fuck did you find it? I’ve been looking for it all day, tearing this place apart, and now it’s just c
SARAHBy the time dinner rolled around, I felt more settled. The small victories of the day—reorganizing the spaces Isabella had claimed and setting some quiet boundaries with Martha—gave me a sense of control I hadn’t felt in weeks. It was almost laughable how reclaiming a few drawers and shelves could make me feel so accomplished, but after days of feeling like I was drowning in chaos, I would take every win I could get.As I made my way downstairs, I mentally ticked off everything I had rearranged earlier. The bookshelf in the living room? Back to its original setup. The vase Isabella had moved to the coffee table? Returned to its rightful place on the mantle. Even the pantry had been sorted, with labels that made sense to me instead of her haphazard system. Nothing seemed out of place. Good.When I entered the dining room, the familiar, comforting scent of roasted vegetables and seasoned chicken greeted me. My dinner was already set on the table, just like always. Martha, ever tho
SARAHI woke up feeling a little lighter, the tension from yesterday not completely gone but dulled enough to let me breathe. I stretched, letting the faint morning light seep into my room before heading to the bathroom. A warm shower was exactly what I needed to set the tone for the day.After drying off, I opened my wardrobe to pick out a dress, only to freeze. Something was off. The neatly arranged rows of clothes I’d spent time organizing were disheveled, with hangers out of place and garments folded in ways I would never fold them. My brow furrowed as I scanned the wardrobe again.“What the hell…” I muttered under my breath.I pushed aside a row of dresses, checking the back for anything missing. My eyes landed on an empty spot where one of my scarves used to hang. Confused, I stepped back, trying to recall the last time I’d used it. Shaking my head, I moved to the drawers and opened the one that held my jewelry.That’s when I noticed it—my bracelet was gone.I stared at the empt