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
MARCO“What do you mean by ‘a girl you loved’?” I asked, my voice laced with confusion and frustration. None of this was making any sense. Who was this girl he was talking about? Why did he seem to think I had anything to do with her?Marcel’s face twisted in anger as he snapped, “Of course, you wouldn’t know! All you do is trample on people, Marco. It’s in your blood. It runs in your damn family.”His words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I couldn’t make sense of them. I stared at him, trying to piece together the fragments of information he was throwing at me. “What the hell are you talking about, Marcel?” I demanded. “Who is this girl?”For a moment, Marcel just looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of hatred and something deeper, something I couldn’t quite place. Then, he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of what he was about to say was too much for him to bear.“Noelle,” he said quietly, almost as if the name itself was a burden.The world seemed to t
SARAH I was curled up on the couch in the upstairs living room, a blanket draped over my legs as I watched some light-hearted comedy flick. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the TV screen. It was one of those rare, peaceful nights where everything seemed to fall into place, where I could just relax and not think about the chaos that usually surrounded me.“Wow, things have been pretty chill lately,” I muttered to myself, my eyes still glued to the screen. “Almost like a miracle.”A small smile tugged at my lips as I watched the characters on the screen bumble through their silly antics. It was nice, being able to laugh at something so trivial, something that didn’t involve the twisted reality I’d been thrown into. I snuggled deeper into the couch, letting out a content sigh. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t entirely hate my life. Not all of it, at least. Sure, there were parts that made me want to scream, but there were also these quiet moments of calm, li
SARAH I had no idea how long I sat there on the couch after Carlos hung up. Time seemed to lose all meaning as I tried to process the fact that Marco had been shot. And Tony too. It didn’t seem real. It was like something out of one of those crime dramas I used to watch to pass the time. But this wasn’t a show. This was my life.When I finally forced myself to get up, I felt like I was moving in slow motion. My legs were shaky, my hands trembling as I made my way upstairs to my room. I didn’t even know what I was doing, just that I needed to do something, anything, to keep myself from falling apart.I opened my closet and stared at the rows of clothes, my mind completely blank. What was I supposed to wear to a hospital? It wasn’t like I’d ever been in this situation before. But then again, nothing about my life had been normal ever since Marco walked into it.Finally, I grabbed a simple black dress and threw it on, not caring how it looked. Black felt appropriate somehow. It matched
SARAH Walking into the hospital room, I was immediately hit by the sterile smell of antiseptic, mixed with the faint scent of something metallic, maybe blood. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, casting a harsh, white glow on everything. My eyes darted around the room, taking in the scene like I was moving in slow motion.And then I saw him.Marco was lying in the hospital bed, his body nearly obscured by the mass of wires, tubes, and machines surrounding him. An IV drip was hooked into his arm, delivering what I assumed was pain medication, while another tube fed oxygen through his nose. Bandages were wrapped tightly around his chest, where I knew the bullet had hit, and a heart monitor beeped steadily at his side, each sound reminding me that he was still alive—barely. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, and the sight of him like this made my stomach twist painfully.It felt like the ground beneath me was giving way. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The tears came befo
SARAHI sat in the living room, my fingers working the knitting needles in a slow, steady rhythm. The yarn twisted and looped, but my mind wasn’t in it. It was supposed to help me relax, to keep my hands busy, to distract me. But tonight, it wasn’t doing anything.The unease in my chest had settled there hours ago, and no matter how much I tried to ignore it, it wouldn’t go away.Something was wrong.I didn’t know how, I didn’t know why, but I could feel it.Marco had been different lately. Not in an obvious, loud way. No, it was the kind of change that someone else might not notice. But I did. I noticed everything about him.The silence. The way his stares lingered a little too long on nothing. The way he checked his phone constantly, his jaw tight, his shoulders stiff. I wasn’t sure he even realized he was doing it. Marco wasn’t the type to fidget, but lately, he’d been on edge in a way that didn’t sit right with me.And then there was that phone call.That night, I had woken up to
MARCOI lit a cigarette, letting the bitter taste settle on my tongue, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling. The office was too quiet, just the faint hum of the AC and the soft scratch of the papers I’d tossed aside. But my eyes kept drifting back to those damn records, like they were mocking me from the corner of the desk.I took a deep drag and leaned back in my chair, trying to shake off the tension coiled in my chest. The numbers didn’t lie. But the problem was, I didn’t have the answers yet. That’s what got under my skin the most—not knowing.I shifted in my seat, finding a comfortable spot, my body sinking deeper into the leather. My eyes felt heavy, the stress weighing me down more than I realized. I stared at the ceiling, the smoke blending with the shadows, and before I knew it, my mind drifted somewhere else. Somewhere softer.I saw her. My baby. I hoped Sarah woould give me a girl. Laughing, her little hands reaching for me, her smile brighter than the sun outside. She w
MARCOThe office was dead quiet, the kind of silence that made the tick of the clock on the wall sound like a drumbeat. The only other noise was the rustle of papers as I ran through the pile on my desk. Contracts, invoices, shipment logs—it was all the usual shit. Stuff I could practically do in my sleep by now. I signed off on the weapon shipments first, making sure the docks were clear for the incoming load from Eastern Europe. Then I moved to the laundering reports, checking the cash flow through our fronts—clubs, restaurants, real estate. Everything seemed to be running like clockwork.But my mind wasn’t in it.Petrov’s last words from that call still echoed in my head. He’d been vague—too vague for my liking. The whole thing about “unexpected shifts” and “watch your back.” It wasn’t like him to be cryptic. Petrov didn’t deal in riddles, and the fact that he was suddenly choosing his words carefully had me on edge. I didn’t want to overthink it, but I couldn’t help it. I had Sara
MARCOThe tires crunched against the gravel as I pulled into the office building’s lot, the usual buzz of early morning activity humming in the background. But none of it registered. My mind was still stuck on Petrov’s call, his words looping over and over like they were burned into my skull.“There’s a leak, Marco. Someone close. Watch your back.”I killed the engine, staring out the windshield for a moment longer before stepping out of the car. The cool morning air hit my face, but it didn’t do a damn thing to shake off the heaviness sitting on my chest. I grabbed my suitcase from the backseat, slamming the door shut harder than necessary. The sound echoed in the parking lot, but I barely noticed.As I walked toward the building, a few of the guys outside greeted me—nods, quick “Mornin’, boss,” the usual routine—but I didn’t even glance their way. Their voices were just background noise, fading into the mess of thoughts swirling in my head. My focus was shot to hell, and that wasn’t
SARAHI woke up to the soft glow of morning creeping in through the curtains, but it didn’t bring that warmth it usually did. Instead, it felt like the light was highlighting everything I was trying not to think about. My eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, tracing the small imperfections in the plaster, anything to distract myself from the nagging feeling in my chest.Marco’s steady breathing beside me was usually comforting, but today, it felt like a reminder of everything I wasn’t sure about anymore. The words I overheard last night played on a loop in my mind, each time pulling tighter at the anxiety twisting in my stomach.“We can’t be too careful. Someone’s leaking information from the inside.”He hadn’t seen me standing there, tucked just out of sight by the hallway wall, listening to the clipped edge in his voice as he spoke to his worker. The tension in his tone, the sharpness in his words—it wasn’t just business. It was something more, something dangerous. And no matter how mu
SARAHThe soft scent of fresh paint lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of Marco’s cologne as he stood beside me, sleeves rolled up, paintbrush in hand. The nursery was bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows on the walls we were trying to turn into something perfect—something safe.Marco dipped his brush into the pale blue paint, then paused, tilting his head. “I still think we should’ve gone with the sage green,” he said, his tone light but his brow slightly furrowed, like this was a high-stakes decision.I chuckled, standing back to look at the wall. “You’re only saying that because you think blue is cliché.”“Well, it is.” He gave me a playful smirk, one that made my heart do that stupid little flip, the same way it had since the day I fell for him. Dangerous. Beautiful. Mine.I picked up my own brush, swiping a bold streak of blue across the wall. “Too late now. Besides, it’s soft. Calming.”Marco raised an eyebrow, stepping closer.
ISABELLADamien’s eyes lingered on me, sharp and calculating. For a man who prided himself on control, I could see the faint cracks in his composure, the unease that flickered just beneath his confident exterior.“You’re serious,” he said finally, leaning forward. His voice was low, skeptical, but there was a hint of something else—curiosity, maybe, or intrigue.I gave him a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I don’t make empty promises, Damien. If you let me take the lead on this, Marco won’t just lose. He’ll crumble.”He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he studied me. His gaze was piercing, searching for any signs of weakness or deception, but I didn’t flinch.After what felt like an eternity, he nodded once, a sharp, deliberate motion. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll give you a chance. But understand this, Isabella: if you screw this up, there won’t be a second chance.”“I wouldn’t expect one,” I replied smoothly, my tone steady.For a moment, silence stretc
ISABELLAI adjusted myself in the seat, ready to speak, but before a single word left my lips, Damien raised a hand and cut me off with a smirk that could curdle milk.“Before you get started, Miss Isabella,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the desk, “I should let you know I don’t have much patience for loud women.”The words hit like a slap, but I held my ground, masking my irritation.“And,” he continued, his tone smooth but laced with condescension, “it’s a little difficult to believe that a woman—a woman, mind you—is going to be the one to hand me victory over Marco De Luca.”He smiled then, a crude twist of his lips that made something in my stomach churn. He didn’t even try to hide his amusement at his own words, the arrogance rolling off him like smoke.I felt my shoulders stiffen, the sting of his insult sharpening my focus. For a second, I wanted to walk out, but I wasn’t about to let someone like Damien Rossi make me second-guess myself.Instead, I s
ISABELLAThe vibration of my phone pulled me from sleep, the dim light of the screen casting a faint glow across the room. I squinted, blinking at the message:“10 a.m. - Firm location pinned. Be there.”An unknown number, but I didn’t need a name. It was them. Finally, the opportunity I’d been waiting for. My ticket to get back at Marco De Luca.A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I stared at the message. I could almost hear his voice, calm and cold, the way it had been that day when he kicked me out. His exact words still echoed in my mind:“I don’t tolerate liars, Isabella. Pack your things and leave.”He hadn’t even flinched. No hesitation, no second chances. It didn’t matter that I lied to protect myself. It didn’t matter that I was the best thing to ever happen to him. He tossed me aside like I was nothing.But I wasn’t nothing.As I sat up in bed, gripping my phone tightly, my thoughts sharpened with resolve. He thought he could have his perfect little life with his wife and hi