Fire and Blood

Siena POV

The burner phone rang at 2 AM.

I jerked awake, heart hammering as I fumbled for it in the darkness. Only one person had this number.

"Hello?"

"Get dressed. Now." Lucian's voice was sharp, urgent. "I'm picking you up in ten minutes."

"What? Why?"

"Pedro made his move. Someone torched your cafe tonight."

The words hit me like ice water. "What?"

"Angelo's is gone, Siena. Burned to the ground. And there was a message spray-painted on the wall next door." His voice dropped to something deadly. "It had your name on it."

My hands shook as I scrambled out of bed. "Is Angelo okay? What about the other employees?"

"Everyone's fine. It happened after closing. But this is a warning, and the next one won't be so clean."

I threw on jeans and a sweater, my mind racing. My job. My only source of income besides the pathetic work-study position at the library. Gone.

"How do you know Pedro did this?"

"Because he's not as smart as he thinks he is. Get downstairs. Black car, tinted windows."

The line went dead.

I grabbed my keys and ran downstairs, finding the car idling at the curb just like he'd said. The back door opened as I approached.

"Get in."

Lucian sat in the shadows, his face hard as stone. He was dressed in all black again, and there was something different about him tonight. More dangerous. More... feral.

"Show me," I said as soon as the door closed.

He handed me his phone. The photo made my stomach lurch. Angelo's Cafe was nothing but a charred skeleton, smoke still rising from the wreckage. And there, on the brick wall of the building next door, someone had spray-painted in red letters: "SIENA CARTER BURNS NEXT."

"Oh God," I whispered.

"Pedro's sending a message. He wants you scared. Isolated. Dependent on him for protection."

"Well, it's working." I handed the phone back with shaking fingers. "I'm terrified."

"Good. Fear keeps you alive." The car pulled away from the curb, heading toward the warehouse district. "But now we accelerate the timeline."

"What timeline?"

"Getting you inside the Torrino operation." He turned to face me, and in the dim light from passing streetlamps, his eyes looked almost black. "Tonight."

"Tonight? Are you insane? I'm not ready. I don't know anything about—"

"You'll learn fast, or you'll die slow. Those are your options."

The car stopped in front of a neon-lit club I'd never seen before. The bass line from inside made the windows vibrate, and a line of college kids stretched around the block.

"What is this place?"

"Torrino territory. They run drugs through here, using students as dealers and customers." Lucian reached into his jacket and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with white powder. "Congratulations. You're now in the market for cocaine."

I stared at the bag in horror. "I'm not doing drugs."

"You're not doing them. You're buying them. There's a difference."

"I won't—"

"You will." His voice went cold. "Because Pedro's people are watching. Because you need to establish yourself as a potential customer before you can work your way up the chain. And because if you don't, that message on the wall becomes a promise."

He pressed the bag into my palm, his fingers covering mine. "There's a guy inside named Marcus. Twenty-something, blond hair, Northwestern University sweatshirt. He's been dealing to sorority girls all semester. You're going to buy from him, get his number, and set up regular purchases."

"What if he doesn't believe I'm a user?"

"You're a broke college student whose life just got torched. Everyone will believe you need an escape." His grip tightened on my hand. "But Siena? Don't actually use it. Ever. These people eat weakness for breakfast."

The car door opened, and I found myself on the sidewalk outside the club. The bouncer looked me up and down with bored eyes.

"Twenty-dollar cover," he grunted.

I started to reach for my wallet, but Lucian appeared beside me, sliding a fifty across the bouncer's palm. "She's with me."

Inside, the club was a writhing mass of bodies and strobing lights. The music was so loud I could feel it in my bones. Lucian guided me through the crowd with a possessive hand on my lower back.

"There," he said in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "Northwestern sweatshirt by the bar."

I spotted Marcus immediately. He looked exactly like what central casting would order for a college drug dealer: good-looking in a generic way, expensive clothes, the kind of smile that probably worked on naive freshmen.

"What do I say?"

"That you heard he could help with stress relief. Keep it vague. Let him lead the conversation." Lucian's hand moved to my waist, pulling me closer. "And remember, you're mine. If anyone asks, if anyone even looks at you wrong, you tell them you're with Lucian Romano."

"What if they know what that means?"

"Then they'll leave you alone." His lips brushed against my ear. "Go. I'll be watching."

I made my way to the bar, every nerve ending on fire. Marcus was talking to a girl who couldn't have been older than eighteen, her pupils already dilated from whatever he'd sold her.

"Excuse me," I said, sliding up next to them. "I heard you might be able to help me with something."

Marcus looked me over with practiced eyes. "Depends what you need help with, sweetheart."

There was that word again. It sounded wrong coming from him, cheap and meaningless.

"I'm having trouble sleeping. Concentrating. Someone said you had something that might help me relax."

"Rough semester?" He leaned closer, and I caught a whiff of expensive cologne mixed with sweat. "What's your major?"

"Journalism."

His smile widened. "Stressful field. Lots of deadlines, pressure to perform." He glanced around, then pulled out his phone. "I think I have exactly what you need. But not here. Too many people."

He jerked his head toward a door marked "Private" near the back of the club. My blood went cold.

"I'd rather stay here," I said.

"And I'd rather not get arrested." His hand closed around my wrist, not gentle like Lucian's touch, but possessive in a way that made my skin crawl. "Come on. It'll just take a minute."

I looked back toward where Lucian had been standing, but the crowd had shifted and I couldn't see him. Panic clawed at my throat.

"I should get back to my friends," I said, trying to pull away.

Marcus's grip tightened. "What friends? You came alone."

No, I didn't. I was with—

"Siena?"

Pedro's voice made me freeze. He appeared out of the crowd like a bad dream, his smile sharp as a knife.

"Pedro," I breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing as you, I imagine." His eyes flicked to Marcus, then back to me. "Though I have to say, I'm surprised to see you here so soon after your little workplace accident."

The way he said it made it clear he knew exactly what had happened to Angelo's. Had probably ordered it himself.

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

"Don't you?" He stepped closer, and I found myself trapped between him and Marcus. "Poor little Siena, all alone in the big bad city. No job, no money, no one to protect her."

"She's not alone."

Lucian's voice cut through the music like a blade. He materialized behind Pedro, and suddenly the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Pedro turned slowly, his smile never wavering. "Romano. How nice to see you slumming with the college crowd."

"How nice to see you threatening women in public. Very classy."

"Threatening?" Pedro laughed. "I was offering comfort to a friend in need."

"Were you?" Lucian moved closer, and I could see the violence coiled in his muscles. "Because it looked like intimidation to me."

Marcus, who had been watching this exchange with growing alarm, tried to back away. Lucian's hand shot out, gripping his shoulder.

"Going somewhere, Marcus? We were just getting acquainted."

"I don't know who you are, man, but—"

"I'm someone you don't want to disappoint." Lucian's voice was conversational, but his grip made Marcus wince. "Siena here is under my protection. That means anyone who sells to her, talks to her, or even looks at her wrong answers to me. Are we clear?"

Marcus nodded frantically. "Crystal."

"Good. Now disappear."

Marcus bolted into the crowd like his ass was on fire.

Pedro clapped slowly. "Very impressive. But you can't protect her forever, Romano. Eventually, she'll need to choose a side."

"She already has."

"Has she?" Pedro's eyes locked with mine. "Tell me, Siena, what did Lucian promise you? Safety? Security? Money?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Pedro wasn't finished.

"Because I can offer you something he can't. Legitimacy. A future that doesn't end with a bullet in your head or a concrete necklace at the bottom of the harbor."

"She's not interested," Lucian said.

"Let her speak for herself." Pedro stepped closer, ignoring Lucian completely. "What's it going to be, sweetheart? The devil you know or the one you don't?"

Before I could answer, the lights went out.

Emergency lighting kicked in, bathing everything in hellish red. People screamed. Glass shattered. And in the chaos, I felt hands grab me from behind.

"Lucian!" I screamed.

But when the lights came back on thirty seconds later, I wasn't in the club anymore.

I was in the back of a van, zip-tied to a metal chair, staring at three men in ski masks.

And one of them was holding a very large knife.

"Hello, Siena," the man with the knife said. His voice was cultured, educated. "We need to have a little chat about your boyfriend.”