THE DEADLY SECRET

Alexander unlocked the hotel room and stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him, and a light smell of lemon and fresh linen filled the air. The place felt quiet and expensive. He dropped his suitcase beside a chair, pulled at his tie, and loosened it with one quick tug.

The room was clean and modern. Warm yellow light glowed from hidden lamps. Big windows showed the city outside—tall buildings glowing against the night, lights blinking like fireflies in the dark.

He took off his blazer and tossed it on the bed. His shirt was half unbuttoned by the time he walked into the bathroom. The mirror caught his reflection—tall, lean, his muscles tight from years of working out, even with his busy travel schedule. A thin scar ran along his ribs, a reminder from his rough college rugby days.

He stepped into the shower and turned on the water. Warm streams hit his skin, running down his shoulders and chest. The heat made his muscles relax, but his thoughts kept moving.

He tilted his head back, letting the water hit his face. The flight had been long. Now he had hours before bed. Hours in a city he hadn’t visited in years.

Then a thought came—Jeremiah. His old college roommate. The last time they talked, it was during a rushed airport stop. They’d promised to meet up but never had the time.

Alexander smiled to himself.

After his shower, he changed into a plain black T-shirt and jeans, grabbed his phone, and typed:

In town. Got a few hours to kill. You around?

The reply came fast:

Hell yes. Club Saffron. 10 PM. Let’s raise some dust.

Alexander chuckled, tossed the phone on the bed, and pulled on his jacket. The night might be interesting after all.

---

Mackenzie’s mind was racing. Every tick of the clock felt louder. She checked her watch—just before seven. Her heart sped up. That one-word text—EIGHT—was still burned into her brain. It felt like a warning she couldn’t shake.

Her eyes darted to the elevator screen. It hadn’t moved from the ground floor. She tapped her foot on the tile. She pulled out her phone again. No new messages. Just the same one, glaring at her.

Someone nudged her shoulder. She turned quickly.

“Amy,” she breathed.

Amy smiled like nothing was wrong. “I told you to wait. We could’ve gone home together.”

“Sorry… I forgot,” Mackenzie said with a small, fake smile. Truth was, her mind was too full. She barely remembered leaving her desk.

The elevator arrived. The doors opened, and a small crowd pushed in. Mackenzie and Amy squeezed inside.

“I heard the new CEO is in his late forties,” Amy whispered as the elevator climbed. “Haven’t had someone that young in ages.”

Mackenzie gave a distracted nod. She wasn’t in the mood for talking, but Amy always filled the silence.

“What’s his name again?” Amy asked.

“Alexander Gracias,” Mackenzie answered without thinking.

“Yes! I just hope he’s nothing like Mr. Winter,” Amy said, rolling her eyes.

Mackenzie tensed. Even hearing that name made her skin crawl. Mr. Winter had been a nightmare of a boss.

“So… what are you doing tonight?” Amy asked.

Mackenzie hesitated. “I have somewhere to be,” she said, clutching her phone tighter.

“Where?” Amy pressed.

“My grandma’s place,” Mackenzie lied. Her throat felt dry. “Helping her with something.”

Amy raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.

The elevator doors opened. People poured out. Amy spotted a taxi, waved it over, and jumped in.

“See you tomorrow!” she called.

Mackenzie barely replied. She scanned the street, flagged another taxi, and climbed in. Her shoulders were stiff.

Tonight was going to change something. She didn’t know if it would be for better or worse.

---

The taxi stopped. Even with the windows closed, the deep thump of bass made the air shake. Purple and red lights glowed on the wet pavement. Mackenzie’s hand paused on the door handle. Her heart was pounding.

This wasn’t her kind of place.

She stepped out. Her heels clicked on the concrete. The bouncer looked her over and let her through.

Inside, the music hit her like a wave—loud, heavy beats, mixed voices, and the smell of sweat and perfume. She moved through the crowd like a shadow. Strobe lights flashed over strangers, their faces changing with every blink of light.

She held her bag close. Why had he picked this place?

The message hadn’t been a choice. It was an order.

In the far corner, the VIP section was blocked by two men in black suits. One spotted her, lifted the rope, and let her through without a word.

The music was quieter inside the glass lounge, though still loud. Everything was polished and sleek.

He was there.

Diego Roderigo sat in a leather booth, drink in hand. His navy suit looked expensive and perfect. The dim light caught his face—sharp features, cold eyes, and a thin scar. His presence filled the room.

Mackenzie stopped for a second, then forced herself forward.

“You’re right on time,” Diego said. His voice was smooth but carried something darker.

She sat across from him, her back straight, hands locked in her lap. “I came like you asked.”

“Good.” He set his glass down and leaned closer. “Let’s talk.”

Her voice was quiet. “About what?”

Fear crawled up her spine. Her fingers dug into her bag strap.

Diego lit a cigarette. The flame lit his face for a moment before fading. He blew smoke toward her, slow and calm. She coughed and waved it away.

“You look sexy when you pretend to be innocent,” he said with a smirk.

“If you have nothing else to say, I’ll leave,” she said before she could stop herself.

His fist hit the table with a loud crack. She flinched.

“You’ve got some nerve, Ramona,” he said, his eyes bloodshot and hard.

The name hit her like ice water. Ramona. A name from a life she thought was gone forever.

Her hands clenched so tight her nails dug into her skin. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“I know this Ramona,” he said with a smile that wasn’t kind. He leaned back and blew more smoke into the air.

He reached to the side, pulled up a small black parcel, and tossed it to her.

She caught it awkwardly, holding it close.

“You know what to do with it,” he said, his grin widening.

The weight of the parcel felt wrong in her hands. Cold dread twisted in her stomach. She knew what it was.

Her voice was low. “What if I say no?”

Diego’s eyes narrowed. “Seventeen Melville Avenue,” he said slowly.

Her heart stopped. He knew.