SARAHI sat on the edge of the bed, still shaken by the confrontation with Marco’s uncle, Danzo. The image of his face, twisted with rage, was burned into my mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that settled in my chest since that moment. Living with Marco was already difficult enough—his constant mood swings, the unpredictable tension between us. But now there was someone even more terrifying under the same roof. It was like the walls were closing in on me.I rubbed my arms, trying to calm myself. Danzo had this aura of violence about him, a darkness that seemed to follow wherever he went. The way he looked at me, like I was nothing, like I didn’t deserve to be in Marco’s home—it made my skin crawl. And then he’d tried to strike me. My heart raced just thinking about it. What could have happened if Marco hadn’t walked in at that exact moment? I didn’t even want to imagine it.I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I leaned back against the bed frame. All I could do was pr
MARCOI sat behind my desk, staring at the stack of papers in front of me but not really seeing them. My mind was elsewhere, on the one thing I couldn’t ignore—Danzo. The fact that he had returned to the family house was eating at me. He wasn’t here for a friendly reunion. He never was. Danzo was always about power, control, and bloodshed. And now, after years of being gone, he thought he could waltz back in like nothing had happened?I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the rage bubbling under the surface. I wanted to confront him, throw him out of here before he got the chance to dig his claws into anything. But Tony had a point. If we kicked him out now, it would cause a stir, maybe even spark something we weren’t ready for. So I had to bide my time, play it smart.But every fiber in me wanted to handle this differently. I wanted him gone.A soft knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts. It was Carlos, my father’s closest advisor. He slipped into the room, his expression cal
Danzo sat in the leather chair of the dimly lit study, a faint smirk playing on his lips. It felt good to be back in this house, this place he once ruled with an iron fist. It had been years since he’d been exiled, sent away because of his “methods”—methods that, as far as he was concerned, had kept the family intact and powerful. But now, with Marco in charge, things were different. The family had weakened, fractured under Marco’s so-called leadership. Danzo could see it, and he knew others could too. And that’s why he was back.The pretense of his visit had been simple enough: concern for Marco’s safety, for the stability of the family. But that was just the surface. Beneath it, Danzo was already calculating, already watching for the cracks he could exploit. And there were plenty of them.He picked up the phone on the desk, dialing a number he knew by heart. It rang once, twice, before the familiar voice on the other end answered.“Danzo,” Marcel greeted him, his tone sharp, busines
SARAHThe tension in the house had been building for days. I could feel it in the way everyone moved, the way conversations would abruptly stop whenever I walked into a room. It wasn’t just Marco who seemed on edge—Tony, Carlos, even some of the household staff were acting strange. There was something going on, and it had everything to do with Danzo’s sudden presence in the house.I didn’t trust him. How could I? The whispers about his violent past, the stories of how he used to run the family with an iron fist, made me wary. I wasn’t blind to the fact that people like him didn’t just change. But I also didn’t know enough to piece together what was really happening. All I had were the fragments of overheard conversations and the weight of the unease that seemed to hang over everyone like a dark cloud.Tony, especially, had been distant. Normally, we’d exchange friendly nods, or he’d at least acknowledge me with a smile when we crossed paths. But now, he barely even looked at me. And w
SARAHSteam still curled from my hair as I stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in my towel. The cool air hit my skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the shower, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I was about to rummage through my drawer when the door creaked open, making me jump.Marco stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised like he had every right to be there. I froze for a second, blinking in disbelief.“Excuse me?” I finally blurted out, clutching the towel tighter around me. “Ever heard of knocking?”A slow grin spread across his face, the kind that always managed to make my heart do a weird little flip despite myself. “I knock sometimes,” he said, stepping inside like he owned the place. “But I miss my wife, and I figured… why wait?”I stared at him, trying to keep my expression serious, though the corners of my mouth were already betraying me. “You miss me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. “Since when did we get so casual with each
SARAHThe moment Marco left the room, his words lingered in my mind like a weight I couldn’t shake off. “Stay out of sight. Don’t ask questions.” He didn’t say it in a harsh tone, but it was enough to leave me feeling uneasy. I wasn’t sure what this get-together was supposed to be about, but from the way he spoke, it was clear he didn’t want me anywhere near it. He always had this way of keeping me in the dark when it came to certain things, as if it was for my own good. But now, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was something else.Was he trying to protect me? Or was he… embarrassed of me?That thought made my chest tighten, and I hated that it even crossed my mind. I tried not to think of Marco that way. He wasn’t the type to care about appearances, at least not with me. But there was something about the way he said it, like he didn’t want anyone to know I was here. Like it was better for everyone if I just disappeared for the night.I sighed and sank back onto the bed, pulling my
SARAHWhen I opened the door, a maid stood in front of me. She wasn’t one of the regulars I had gotten used to seeing around here. This one looked unfamiliar—too unfamiliar for my comfort. Her eyes darted around nervously, and she didn’t meet my gaze directly.“Mr. Marco is at the party,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “and he’s requesting your attendance.”I blinked, stunned. Had I heard that right? Marco had been clear—so clear that his words echoed in my mind. “Stay put. Don’t leave your room”. The message had been firm, almost like a command. And now, this maid was here telling me the exact opposite? Something didn’t add up. I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to gauge if she was joking, but she looked dead serious.“Wait… What?” I said, my tone laced with confusion. “Marco asked for me? You’re sure?”“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Marco requested you,” she repeated, as if I hadn’t heard her the first time. “And… I think he’s getting tired of waiting.”Her words lingered, unsettling me. I bit
SARAHI stood there, staring at Isabella, feeling my pulse race with irritation. Of all the people I didn’t want to deal with tonight, she was at the top of the list. Her smug expression made my skin crawl, and I knew she was hoping to get a rise out of me. But not tonight. I wasn’t about to let her win.“How did you manage to beg your way into another one of Marco’s parties?” I shot back, keeping my voice steady, trying to sound as bored as possible. “You’d think after the last time you’d be done embarrassing yourself. But I guess that’s your thing now, huh?”Isabella’s smile faltered for a split second, and I saw the flash of anger in her eyes. It was quick, but it was there. She wasn’t expecting me to push back like that. I felt a flicker of satisfaction. Good. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.“I don’t beg, sweetie,” Isabella said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Marco and I… we have history. I don’t expect someone like you to understand.”I crossed my arms, ref
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