Anna's POV
"My mother used to say, when there’s a heavy downpour of rain, it means the Earth is mourning dead souls."
The sharp crackle of lightning lit up the night, followed by a rumble of thunder that seemed to shake the car.
The sound jolted me back to reality. I hated thunderstorms—the noise, the darkness, the way my chest tightened every time it struck.
I took a shaky breath, trying to focus. "Can you go any faster?" I asked the driver, my voice sharper than I intended.
“Sorry, ma’am, but I have to drive carefully. The roads are slick with rain,” he replied, his hands steady on the wheel.
I bit my lip, drumming my fingers anxiously on my thigh, feeling like something was clawing inside me. I tried blaming the weather or the pace of the drive, but deep down, I knew there was something else, something I couldn’t shake.
Desperate to distract myself, I reached into my bag, searching for my phone. Maybe scrolling through the internet would ease this gnawing anxiety.
But when I glanced at the screen, my heart dropped. A message from my sister.
"Hi Anna, call me as soon as you see this. It’s about Mum."
I dropped my phone onto my thigh, frustration knotting in my stomach. My head sank against the cold glass of the window, and I closed my eyes briefly, fighting the heavy feeling pressing down on me. My sister never texts me—unless there’s a problem.
With a deep sigh, I picked up my phone, staring at the screen for a moment before dialing her number. My fingers hovered over the call button, as if pressing it might make whatever she had to say all too real. But I couldn’t avoid it.
Bracing myself, I tapped to call, listening to the rings echo in my ear, each one building the weight of whatever news was coming.
“Hello,” Kate’s voice came through, shaky and strained.
“Hi, Kate. I got your text. What’s going on?” My voice wavered, a chill creeping over me as I picked up on the dread lacing her words.
“It’s… it’s Mum,” she stammered, her tone brittle, like she was on the verge of breaking down. “Her health is failing.”
A lump formed in my throat as tears pricked at my eyes, but I forced myself to stay steady. “What happened? Is it… is it serious?”
Kate took a shuddering breath. “The doctor says she needs immediate surgery. Her intestines are perforated from food poisoning, and the cost… we’ll need $100,000.”
“$100,000? Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” I whispered, feeling the weight of it press down on me.
“I don’t know, sis,” Kate replied, her voice trembling. “Maybe… maybe we could try calling Dad?”
I closed my eyes, my mind racing with a hundred conflicting thoughts. “You know what, Kate? I’ll call you back. I just… I need a minute to think.”
“Alright. Just… don’t take too long.”
I dropped my phone onto the seat beside me, gripping the back of the passenger seat as I bowed my head, fighting to keep it together. “Oh no, no, no… this can’t be happening,” I whispered, a sob escaping despite myself. Memories of everything my mother had endured flooded my mind, making the pain sharper.
“Ma’am… are you alright?” the driver asked gently, glancing at me through the rearview mirror, concern etched on his face.
I forced myself to take a shaky breath, brushing away the tears as I tried to steady my voice. “Just… just keep driving, please.”
The driver’s voice had an undertone that struck a nerve, tugging at something buried, something painful. It reminded me of my father.
The thought of him, especially now that Kate had suggested we ask for his help, made my stomach twist in fury and heartbreak.
I pressed the handkerchief to my face, willing the tears to stop. What kind of man abandons his wife and children without a second thought? My father—no, he wasn’t a father. He was the man who had shattered us.
Our world had crumbled the first time he’d raised a hand to my mother, his anger unleashed because she’d dared accuse him of cheating. And she’d been right. He didn’t care about the wounds he left behind, about the nights we stayed up waiting for him to come home. He just walked out, trading us in for his new life, his new wife, like we meant nothing.
A sob escaped me before I could choke it down. I wasn’t just grieving for my mother’s pain—I was grieving for the family we should have had but lost because of him.
The driver’s voice pulled me back to reality.
“We’re here, ma’am,” he said softly.I quickly wiped my tears, digging into my bag for some cash. I handed it over with a faint nod, barely meeting his eyes. The cold air hit me as I pushed the door open and stepped out, the chill wrapping around me like a reminder of the reality I had to face.
I closed the door, and within seconds, he drove off, leaving me standing alone in the dark, under the weight of the storm and my own heartache.
The rain had stopped, but the cold clung to me, seeping through my clothes and chilling me to the bone. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself as I walked down the empty street, each step weighed down by exhaustion and dread.
When I reached my gate, a strange stillness settled over me. Normally, our dog, Chelie would be barking by now, announcing my arrival. But tonight, there was only silence. An unsettling quiet.
I hesitated, glancing around before pushing open the gate.
I made my way through the garden, calling softly, “Chelie?” But there was no response. A prickle of unease crawled up my spine.
The cold was biting, sinking into my bones, so I turned back toward the house, eager for warmth—only to stop short when I saw the front door ajar.
My heart skipped a beat. My mother and sister were still at the hospital, and no one else was supposed to be here. Fear tightened in my chest as the thought of an intruder crossed my mind.
Swallowing hard, I approached the door, weighing my options. I reached out, pushing it open just enough to slip inside, moving carefully, hoping to make as little noise as possible.
As I stepped inside, my breath caught in my throat at the horrific sight before me.
My father lay sprawled on the floor, drowning in a pool of his own blood, and hovering over him were two huge men in black suits, their faces shadowed and menacing.
Panic surged through me, and I covered my mouth to stifle a scream, the sound muffled by disbelief.
My bag slipped from my grip, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Just as my instincts screamed for me to run, I felt a sudden prick in my neck—a sharp pain that turned into an icy grip of fear. A tranquilizer.
My body betrayed me as I spun around, desperate to escape the nightmare, but my vision began to blur.
I fought to stay upright, my heart racing as the room swirled around me. I struggled to keep my balance, but my legs buckled, and I collapsed to the ground, the world fading to black.
Anna's POVMy head pounded as I came back to consciousness, a dull ache throbbing behind my eyes. I blinked, my vision clearing just enough to catch sight of a man standing over me, his expression as cold as stone. Panic set in, but I tried to keep it hidden, my eyes darting around the room. There were more men, rough, brutal-looking, and then my gaze landed on a particular one amongst them.He sat apart from the others, watching, calm and unreadable. Unlike the others, he didn’t look at us with hostility. Instead, he seemed almost bored, a quiet authority radiating from his relaxed posture. “Get up,” the man in front of me barked, grabbing my arm and yanking me to my feet. My heart raced, but I forced myself to stand steady."Please..." I wanted to speak but a stinging slap to my face stopped my words. The man grabbed my chin, "You don't utter a sound unless you are asked." He said, shoving his scarred face in front of me."Wake the others," he commanded, h
Anna's POVI slept through the night in a room he’d prepared for me in his mansion, but it felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. The memory of my father’s lifeless body, drenched in his own blood, haunted me. What about my sister? My mother? Were they safe? Did they even know I was gone?A fierce anger bubbled within me, directed at the man who had taken me against my will, my so-called “savior.” He was nothing but a demon in disguise, dragging me into a world I wanted no part of.A sharp knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. Before I could even gather my rage, it swung open, and two young maids stepped in, their heads bowed.“Good morning, miss,” one of them said softly. “We’ve brought breakfast. Master requests that you put this on and join him in the main hall when you’re ready.”“Requests?” I spat, “More like demands. Why should I even think about doing anything he says?”They exchanged worried glances, but I didn’t care. I crossed my arm
Damon glanced at his wristwatch, his patience thinning. "She should be out by now, it's been over ten minutes."“Master,” Tiger spoke up, a sly smile playing at his lips. “Is she the one?” Damon asked, his eyes scanning for answers. “Yes, boss, she’s Kane Blackwood’s daughter," He said with a grin on his face."Good; this is the perfect opportunity for us, a direct line to Blackwood territory.” Damon smiled, turning his face to the direction of Anna's room.Tiger’s grin widened. “So, do we call him? Let him know we have his little princess?”“Not yet,” Damon replied sharply."There’s no need to rush. Kane doesn’t even know she’s here.” His voice lowered.A dark smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Once she’s mine in every way, with my seed in her womb, then we’ll make the call. By then, Blackwood will be begging to meet my terms.”He took a step toward the stairs, his tone icy with control. “Tell the men I’m not to be disturbed.”Tiger gave a respectful nod, “Understood, boss
Anna's POVI held my breath, caught between terror and confusion, trying to figure out what had made him stop.He sat down in front of me, his eyes fixed on my nearly bare body, save for my torn underwear.I quickly tried to cover myself with the shredded fabric, tears streaming down my face, but he barely seemed to notice.Lighting a cigar, he took a long drag, letting the smoke swirl around us before his gaze returned to me.“You think I’m a bad person, don’t you?” he asked, voice low.Anger surged through me. "You're a monster," I shot back, my voice thick with fury and fear.He chuckled, a sound without warmth. “A monster?” he murmured, as if amused. “So, that means you’re terrified of me, yes?”I clenched my jaw, refusing to respond. Yes, fear was coursing through me, but I’d never let him know that. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction."Please, just let me go," I whispered, my voice trembling as tears continued to fall. "I'm nothing—just some low-life
“What’s wrong?” Damon asked, his hands casually tucked in his pockets, though his gaze was serious.“It’s... it’s about the men you killed, boss,” the man stammered, swallowing hard. “The ones you took down the day you... took her.”Damon tilted his head slightly, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “And? Are they back from the dead?”“No, boss,” the man replied quickly, his voice shaky. “But their don... he’s saying it was an act of war. Claims you took his property, his words, not mine, when you took the girl.”Damon gave a short laugh, reaching over and brushing a speck of dust from the man’s shoulder, his touch light yet somehow unnerving.“Tell me,” he said, his voice dangerously soft, “which clan does this ‘don’ belong to?”“The Manzoni clan, boss,” he answered, a flicker of dread in his eyes.Damon arched a brow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “The Manzoni clan, hmm? I’ve heard of their reputation. Apparently, no one crosses them and lives to tell the tale.”The man shifted,
Anna's POV "I'm not sure I want to bring him down, love," she said softly, her eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place. "But I do want to help you. I want you to be happy." I let out a dry chuckle, "You barely know me, and yet you care about my happiness?" She smiled faintly, her gaze distant, as if looking at something, or someone, far away. "You remind me a lot of my lover. She was just like you." Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. There was a rawness to her tone that chipped away at my defenses, even as I tried to keep my walls up. "I'm sorry about that," I said softly, unsure of how else to respond. Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "She fell in love with a man and abandoned me for him. They eventually got married, but she died when her husband's enemies came for him." The weight of her story hit me hard, and I felt a pang of guilt for my earlier distrust. No one deserved pain like that. "I’m really sorry," I said ag
Damon sat in his leather chair, hands clasped together, eyes locked on the man before him. The dim light cast shadows across the room, and the muffled sounds of the club outside were swallowed by the soundproof walls."What news have you brought from the Manzoni Clan?" Damon asked, his voice calm, almost too calm.The man hesitated, sniffing the air nervously before stepping closer. "The Don refuses to accept any offer for the girl," he said, his tone shaky. "He says you have until tomorrow to return her, and if you refuse..." He hesitated again, shifting under Damon's cold stare. "He threatens to sever your head from your neck."The leather chair creaked softly as Damon leaned back, his gaze still locked on the man before him. His voice, though calm, carried a deadly finality. “Nothing, absolutely nothing, can take Anna away from me. Not even the Manzoni Clan.”His fingers drummed lightly on the desk, the rhythm measured, deliberate. He exhaled slowly, as if reining in a storm of an
Anna's POVThe loud beat of the club's music hit me the moment I stepped out of the car,.The neon lights flashed the night in hues of purple and blue. Bonnie stepped out beside me, her expression unreadable, but there was a calmness to her that I envied.I wasn’t calm. My heart was racing, and every instinct in me screamed to run. But where would I go?Bonnie must have observe my hesitation because she placed a hand on my shoulder, “You’ll be fine,” she said, her voice soft but confident. “Just stick with me.”I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Is Damon inside?” My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to.“Yes,” Bonnie replied, her gaze steady. “But remember, you’re with me. He won’t hurt you.”Her words were meant to reassure, but they didn’t. Damon didn’t need to hurt me physically to terrify me. His presence alone was enough to make my skin crawl.We walked toward the entrance, the bouncers stepping aside without a word, their eyes respectfu
Tiger sat alone in the hospital’s technical office, his eyes fixed on the flickering CCTV footage displayed on the monitor before him. The small room felt cramped, packed with humming computers and cables that spilled across the desk. He’d been at it for hours, watching an endless stream of doctors and nurses passing through the hospital’s hallways on the big screen. A yawn escaped his lips as boredom settled in. Most of the faces were unfamiliar but expected—medical staff going about their routines. The only exception was Damon, who had stormed through earlier. Other than that, nothing seemed out of place.Still, Tiger wasn’t convinced. Anna’s death gnawed at him, and he needed answers. Pushing back from the desk, he stood and crossed the room to the door. He opened it and leaned out into the hallway. “Doctor,” he called.Moments later, the doctor who had first brought him into the technical office appeared, his white coat slightly wrinkled. “Yes?” he asked, stepping closer.Ti
The helicopter descended into a small clearing nestled deep within the Mexican tropical forest, its rotor blades chopping through the thick, humid air. The sound was a relentless whump-whump, sending gusts of wind that bowed the towering pines and scattered dry leaves in swirling patterns across the ground. A semicircle of mercenaries stood waiting. Six men, hardened by years of conflict, gripped their rifles with steady hands, barrels pointed slightly downward but ready to snap up at a moment’s notice. Dust kicked up by the chopper’s landing swirled around their boots as it settled with a soft jolt, the skids sinking slightly into the earth. No one seemed to come out from the helicopter. The mercenaries shifted uneasily, exchanging quick, wordless glances. Their leader, a burly man known simply as the boss, stepped forward. His scarred forehead twitched faintly as he squinted at the chopper’s dark windows. His heavy boots crunched against the dry ground, each step deliberate, h
The uninhabited forest of La Mosquitia in Mexico stretched out beneath a hot midday sun. The air hung thick with humidity, carrying the faint swamp of insects and the occasional cry of birds. High above the dense forest, a mercenary lay flat on his belly on top of a rugged mountain, his body pressed against the warm, hard rock. His eyes were locked on a pair of binoculars, scanning the horizon. He was the lookout, tasked with a single, pivotal role in the ambush about to unfold below.His face, toughened by years of mercenary living, reflected no emotion as he adjusted the binoculars. A deep voice had spoken through the walkie-talkie earlier, barking orders that still played in his mind: “Watch out for any sign of a Gulfstream G-159, a chopper. Target is Damon. Alert the others when you sight him. Do you copy?” “Yes, boss, I copy,” he’d replied, “No sign of any chopper yet. I’ll keep watching.” That had been over an hour ago. Now, as sweat formed on his forehead like morning de
A man in his early fifties stood at the imposing iron gates of Damon's mansion. His coat was slightly rumpled, and his hands fidgeted with the strap of a leather bag slung over his shoulder. Two security guards approached, their broad frames and stern expressions signaling that no one entered unvetted."Hands up," one of them ordered gruffly, his voice cutting through the stillness. The other guard stepped forward, patting down the visitor with practiced efficiency, searching for any trace of a weapon. Finding none, he nodded to his partner."He's clean," the second guard muttered.The first guard fixed the man with a hard stare. "Who are you?""I'm Doctor Francis," the man replied, his voice steady but laced with a hint of nerves. "I'm here to see Mr. Damon."The head of security, a towering figure with a scar running across his jaw, stepped closer. "Damon’s not around," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "But his sister might want to hear you out." He tur
Damon stood alone in the big compound of his mansion, the night air cool against his bare torso, dressed only in trousers, his shirt abandoned somewhere in the heat of his torment.Before him stood a magnificent golden lion statue, its jaws parted to release springs of water that splashed into a marble basin below. The constant flow shimmered under the moonlight, a wide contrast to the emptiness that gripped his heart.His eyes, filled with tears that refused to fall, were fixed on the statue, though his thoughts were elsewhere—lost in memories of Anna, in the promises he’d made, in the hollow ache of her death The sound of footsteps broke through his internal agonies, soft but steady, approaching from behind. He turned his head just enough to see Ghost, his sister, stepping into the faint glow cast by the mansion’s lanterns.“I’m sorry about Anna,” Ghost said, her voice thick with sympathy.Damon didn’t respond. His jaw tightened, and he turned his gaze back to the lion, unwilling
Scarlett Manzoni, Mario's sister, stood tall behind her desk, her thick frame exuding authority in the well lit office. Her vicious blue eyes bore into Bob, Anna’s father, as she turned to face him. At forty-five, she retained a striking beauty, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, a defiance against time. With Mario dead, she was next in line to lead the Manzoni clan, and she carried the weight of that responsibility with a powerful resolve."I strongly believe Damon is behind my brother’s death," she said, her voice steady and cold. "What do you think, Bob?"Bob shifted uneasily in his chair, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. A man of average build, his graying hair and worry-lined face. "I don’t think Damon did it," he replied, his voice faltering slightly. "He has an alibi."Scarlett’s eyes narrowed, her gaze sharpening like a blade. "Are you saying this to protect your daughter?" she pressed, suspicion lacing her tone. "Are you picking your daughter over me?"Fear
The first thing I noticed was the weight pinning me to the bed, as if my body had forgotten how to move or too weak to move. My eyelids fluttered, heavy and blurry, until a sliver of light broke through the darkness. A steady beep pulsed in the background, soft but insistent, tugging me back to reality. My senses sharpened, I'm in a hospital, I felt a firm, gentle pressure on my stomach. firm hands.I turned my head, the motion slow and sluggish, and there he was. Damon. Sitting beside me, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead, his presence filling the dim hospital room like he owned it. His hands rested on my stomach, steady and warm, and a sweet sensation fluttered through me—butterflies, wild and unexpected, dancing beneath his touch. It was a feeling so alive it almost drowned out the dull ache radiating from the wound beneath his fingers.Our eyes locked, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. His gaze was piercing, blue and endless, pulling me in. But then—somethi
Damon sat quietly in the warehouse, his eyes fixed on his wristwatch. It was 10 PM, and the solar-powered lights outside cast a harsh brightness over the area, illuminating the empty lot and the dark silhouettes of nearby trees. He exhaled slowly, the smoke from his cigarette curling up into the cool night air. Despite the calm appearance he projected, his mind was already calculating his next move.Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by the sound of engines rumbling through the forest. A group of bikes—rough, and black, trolled in droves. About twenty men, their faces set in grim determination and their hands never far from their guns, rolled in. They spread out methodically, their task clear: search the perimeter for any sign of trouble. Among them, four of the bikers veered off and sped toward the warehouse. When they saw Damon sitting there like a king surveying his domain, they quickly signaled to their boss.Moments later, a man in his fifties, with weathered skin and eyes that
A sleek black SUV—more like a heavily armored jeep, was parked in the middle of a forest, its polished surface reflecting the pale light of twilight. Damon leaned casually against it, a thin roll of smoke curling from his hand as he observed the surroundings.Out of the undergrowth, three of his tough-looking men emerged, their steps silent but with purpose. One of them stepped forward and reported, "Boss, we are ready."Damon nodded slowly. "What about the guy who shot my wife?" he asked, his tone measured.The man replied, "We have him chained in the barn, just as you requested."A brief smile flickered across Damon’s face. "Good, good. You guys are free to go. I'll take it from here."They bowed respectfully, then quickly spread out and into another vehicle parked close by. As the SUV’s engine rumbled away in the distance, Damon checked his wristwatch. It read 7:50 PM. He chuckled lightly and stepped away from the jeep, heading deeper into the forest. After about ten minutes of