U Turn

The low growl of the powerful engine rumbled through the stillness of the night, a sound of quiet dominance that Emilio barely registered as he drove. His car was more than a machine, it was a symbol of control, of the life he had carved out for himself. The interior smelled of hand-stitched Italian leather, every detail refined to his exact specifications, every button and dial positioned perfectly.

Just like everything in his world. Just like his empire.

He scanned the streets as he drove, always watching, always alert. It was second nature, the habit of a man who could never afford to be caught off guard. He didn’t just see the world, he assessed it. Tonight, the city was quiet. He liked quiet nights, small breaks in the constant chaos.

This part of town had a certain calmness to it, a controlled stillness that he found satisfying. It was a sharp contrast to the chaos of the lower districts, where desperation and recklessness fueled the kind of men Emilio despised. Here, everything was in order. The businesses that thrived did so because he allowed them to. The people who walked these streets at night did so without fear because he had built a kingdom that demanded respect. Here he was the undisputed king, not even law enforcement bothered him because he acted as the judge, jury and if needed executioner. He was fair, but he never tolerated disrespect. Everyone knew the rules he laid down, and those that failed to comply did not last long.

So why the hell was his mind still lingering on the girl at Monica’s Diner? She wasn’t his problem. She was nothing to him. Just a girl with swollen, red-rimmed eyes, a girl who looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was no different from thousands of others who had lost their way in this city. Yet, something about her unsettled him. The way his hands twitched just to touch her hair, to way his ears yearned to hear her melodic voice.

He exhaled sharply, pushing the thought away as he turned the corner, only to spot four figures moving toward Monica’s. His jaw tightened. Low-level street thugs.

He recognized the type instantly, the kind of men who would never be more than street scum. They were the ones who thought power came from waving a gun around, from cheap intimidation tactics and senseless violence. Men like that would always be bottom feeders, always grasping at scraps because they didn’t have the intelligence to climb any higher.

Disorganized. Reckless. Desperate. Everything that Emilio despised all wrapped up in their cheap clothes.

His grip tightened on the wheel. They were headed straight for the diner.

Before he could fully ponder the situation is phone buzzed in his hand.

Luca.

Emilio clicked the call open, pressing the device to his ear.

“Talk,” he said.

“Boss,” Luca’s voice came through, sharp and to the point. “Where are you?”

Emilio frowned, he did not like being questioned. “On my way. Why?”

“We’ve got a situation.”

His fingers flexed against the wheel. “What kind of situation?”

“Some asshole causing trouble at the club. Drunk, loud, thinks he’s untouchable. Younger kid, but I don’t think he is of any importance.”

Emilio exhaled slowly. Amateur. Silly little boy probably out playing the high life with Daddy’s money. Emilio sees kids like these all the time. Boys trying desperately to matter to the world, always on their phones taking pictures and videos trying to give the illusion that their life is grander than it is. The thing is the ones at the top, the men like Emilio knew that their power never needed to be flaunted, it was displayed naturally.

He trained his men too well for this to be a problem. Luca wasn’t calling because he was concerned, he was calling because he knew Emilio would want to be informed. His club, his empire, nothing happened without his knowledge. That was the difference between men like him and the street scum heading into Monica’s.

Emilio’s world was disciplined, controlled. A machine, fine-tuned, well-oiled, and meticulously maintained. Everything ran efficiently because he had built it that way. He didn’t allow incompetence. He didn’t allow mistakes. His men knew what was expected of them, and they handled things accordingly.

Which meant if Luca was calling, it had already been handled.

“Do I need to come in?” Emilio asked, watching as the four men reached the diner’s entrance.

A pause. Then Luca said, “No. It’s done.”

Emilio smirked faintly. “Good.”

There was another pause, then, “You sure you’re on your way? You sound distracted.”

His eyes flicked back to the rearview mirror, catching the blurred reflection of the men disappearing through the diner’s glass door. That feeling in his gut didn’t go away.

“Change of plans,” Emilio muttered, shifting gears. If Luca could detect that he was distracted then he knew better than to continue to second guess himself. With a swift flick of his wrist, he ended the call.

He didn’t know why he was doing this. He had learned a long time ago, to trust his gut. His instincts had never been wrong before.

Emilio pulled his car into a shadowed spot across from Monica’s Diner, cutting the engine but keeping his grip firm on the leather wheel. His gaze locked onto the glass doors just as the four thugs swaggered inside.

His jaw clenched. He knew men like them. Bottom feeders. The kind of low-level scum who operated with no code, no loyalty, just cheap intimidation and easy money. They were the ones who cut corners, who thought swinging fists and peddling drugs made them powerful. They weren’t his kind of men.

Inside the diner, the tallest of the group, the one with a cheap leather jacket and a face that looked like it had taken too many punches turned toward the counter. Emilio watched him size up the same girl from earlier, and he could feel rage starting to pulse in his veins. The bastard smirked, and Emilio could tell he was attempting to get the girl’s attention. Although Emilio couldn’t hear the man’s words, he imagined it was something crude.

Emilio watched the girl intently. She didn’t react visible to the men inside the diner.

Smart.

She kept her head down, fingers curled around the coffee cup in front of her. But Emilio saw the tension in her shoulders, the way she subtly shifted, like a girl who knew exactly what kind of men with whom she was dealing.

Survivor’s instincts.

She was waiting. Not rushing to leave. Not making herself a target. That got his attention. Perhaps this girl was not as innocent as Emilio initially suspected her to be.

The thug chuckled to himself, but before he could push further, the waitress appeared, leading the group toward an open booth.

Emilio’s eyes were on the girl though. She looked like she was holding her breath.

She waited until they were distracted, until they stopped looking at her. Then, and only then, did she push back from the counter and stand.

Clever girl, Emilio smirked. She knew not to draw attention to herself.

Emilio’s grip on the wheel tightened as he tracked her movements. She tucked the newspaper under her arm, wrapped her fingers around her purse strap, and made a clean, quiet exit through the front doors.

The bell jingled softly overhead, but the thugs weren’t paying attention anymore.

She hesitated for half a second outside, scanning the street like someone who had no idea where to go next. She squared her shoulders and started walking, moving with purpose, like a woman running from something, even if no one else knew it.

Emilio watched her go. His gut twisted, something raw and unfamiliar clawing at his chest.

Then his attention snapped back to the diner.

To the men still inside. He should drive away, but he wasn’t going to. His instincts were still on hyperdrive telling him that something wasn’t right.

Aurora moved quickly, her arms wrapping around herself against the night chill, her steps fast but steady. She didn’t look back.

Emilio tracked her every movement.

She was almost to the corner of the building, just a few more feet and she’d be crossing the street. She captivated his attention again because she stopped.

His brow furrowed as she reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone. Someone was calling her. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Who the hell was calling her at this hour?

A boyfriend? No. He didn’t buy that. There had been something too raw, too shattered in her eyes when she walked into the diner. Whatever, or whoever, she had left behind, she wasn’t going back to. So then… who?

She hesitated, staring down at the screen. She didn’t answer right away.

Emilio felt a flicker of irritation at the fact that he even cared, but before he could linger on it, and before he could read into the moment too much.

Gunfire. The sharp, deafening crack of a bullet ripped through the night air, shattering the fragile peace of the quiet street. Emilio’s instincts kicked in instantly. His head snapped toward the diner just as the front window exploded into a spray of shattered glass. He watched as the sharps rained down on the sidewalk.

Inside, chaos erupted. The waitress, the same one who had given Emilio his meal, collapsed behind the counter, blood blooming across her apron.

Emilio could hear the girl scream. Shit she was going to draw the attention to herself.  Emilio watched as she dropped her phone, her knees buckling as she hit the pavement, eyes wide with shock.

Fuck.

Emilio didn’t hesitate. He threw the car into drive, the tires screeching against the asphalt as he tore across the street. The girl was frozen, her breath coming in panicked gasps, her body stiff as she stared at the diner in horror. She didn’t even see him coming.

The moment the car skidded to a stop beside her, Emilio threw the passenger door open and snarled, “Get in” his voice leaving no room for her to argue.

She didn’t move, still lost in the shock of what had just happened. Emilio’s patience snapped. He didn’t have time for this.

With one fluid motion, he lunged from his seat, grabbed her by the arm, and hauled her inside the car. She barely had time to gasp before the door slammed shut, sealing her inside his world.

In the space of a heartbeat, he was back behind the wheel, his foot slamming on the gas. As they sped off into the night, leaving the gunfire and bloodstained diner behind, one thought settled heavily in Emilio’s mind.

Whatever trouble this girl was in, she was in it now with him.