CHAPTER TWO - THE ULTIMATUM

Adeline’s POV

Marcus Delano didn’t have time to scream. The knife was already gone.

Rain stitched the city into a blur; neon lit the puddles and hid the blood at my feet. One more name crossed off. One more night Belle could dream without knowing the cost.

By the time I reached our apartment, my hands were clean, my expression calm.

“Addy! Perfect timing!” Annabelle bounced off the couch, blonde curls catching the lamplight like spun gold. She clutched her phone to her chest, practically glowing. “Grey just asked me to meet his parents next weekend. Can you believe it?”

I forced a smile, shrugging out of my leather jacket. The knife’s weight against my ribs felt heavier in the warmth of our apartment, surrounded by Belle’s textbooks and half-empty coffee cups. Two worlds that could never, ever collide.

“That’s great, Belle. Really.” I ruffled her hair, breathing in her innocence—vanilla perfume and hope. “You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

And she did. Every drop of blood on my hands, every nightmare that stalked me before dawn, every piece of my soul I’d sold—it was all for moments like this. For her smile. For her dreams.

“I know you think I’m moving too fast,” she said, curling back onto the couch. “But when you know, you know. Right?”

“Right,” I whispered, though I’d never known anything but survival and the cold kiss of steel.

That night, as Belle slept peacefully in her pink-walled sanctuary, I promised the darkness what I always did: she would never know what I really was. She would never have to.

I should have known promises made in blood never held.

*****

The sedan was too clean for this neighborhood.

I noticed it the moment I stepped out of the convenience store, grocery bag cutting into my wrist. Polished black paint, tinted windows, engine purring like a predator. It stuck out among rust-bucket cars and graffiti-tagged walls like a diamond in a gutter.

The man leaning against the hood made it worse. Pressed suit, newspaper at the perfect angle to watch the street—except the paper was upside down.

Bait.

Two more men lingered near the bus stop. Another smoked at the mouth of an alley. My pulse stayed steady, but my mind was already calculating. Knife at my hip. Gun at my ribs. Fire escape ladder twenty feet ahead.

They thought they were hunters.

At the next corner, I cut down an alley. Dumpster, fire escape, rooftop—muscle memory. My body moved like it was stitched to the city: silent, precise.

Below, men cursed. “She was right here!” A spotlight swept the tar. I pressed flat against the brick until the engine rumbled away.

Not safe. Not yet. Someone knew me. And if they knew me, Belle wasn’t safe either.

The bar reeked of spilled beer and bad decisions. Perfect. Music pounded from ancient speakers, and the crowd was thick enough to disappear into.

I found a corner table with a view of both doors and ordered something strong enough to burn. My contact was late—nothing unusual. Data brokers ran on paranoia. I’d get the file, disappear into the night, and be home before Belle stirred in her sleep.

Or so I thought.

The change was subtle. Conversations dropped in volume. Laughter thinned. Bodies shifted aside, creating space in the center of the room.

Predators didn’t announce themselves. They made the world announce them.

And then I saw him.

Kayden Gravano.

The Mafia Prince.

Every step he took owned the room. Dark hair tied back, suit cut like armor, grey eyes sweeping with surgical precision. He was ruin dressed in elegance.

Our eyes locked. His lips curved into that infuriating smirk.

No. Not here. Not now.

He crossed the room and slid into the seat across from me, casual as sin. Up close, I saw the scar along his jaw—a mark from our last encounter. Instead of marring him, it made him more dangerous.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” His voice was silk wrapped around steel.

I kept my expression flat. “You should be dead.”

“You tried.” He signaled the bartender without looking away from me. “Do better next time.”

Fury flared, but I buried it under ice. “What do you want, Gravano?”

“Straight to business. I like that.” He leaned back, perfectly at ease. “Though I have to say, Adeline, you’re harder to find than I expected. Good thing I know all your favorite hiding spots.”

The name hit me like a bullet. My real name.

I didn’t flinch. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smirked, sliding his phone onto the table. Photos filled the screen—Annabelle leaving class, Annabelle laughing with Grey, Annabelle asleep in her bed.

“Beautiful girl,” he murmured, swiping through her life like it belonged to him. “So innocent. So trusting. Never once looks behind her.”

My blood iced. “Don’t.”

“Then listen carefully.” His voice dropped to steel. “You play my game, and she stays untouched. You try to run, and she’s gone before her morning coffee cools.”

The bar noise faded. Every exit I imagined slammed shut. He had me.

“What do you want?” I forced out.

His smile sharpened, victorious. “Simple. You’re going to marry me.”