LOGINTime didn’t just slow down; it shattered.
The razor-sharp edge of the lamp glass was an inch from his jugular. I could see the reflection of the silver shard in his wide, icy blue eyes. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. I wanted to slice him. I wanted to make this monster bleed for what he was doing to Dr. Evans. But Lorenzo De Luca wasn’t a regular man. He was a trained apex predator. In a fraction of a second, his lethal reflexes took over. He didn't flinch backward. Instead, he lunged forward, intentionally narrowing the distance so my arm couldn't get the proper leverage for a fatal strike. His massive, gloved left hand clutched my right wrist like a steel bear trap, halting the glass mere millimeters from his skin. The point of the shard lightly grazed his throat, leaving a thin, bead of crimson that began to trickle down his collar. "Boss!" the scarred guard roared, a chorus of heavy pistols instantly cocking in the dark room. Three red laser sights snapped directly onto my forehead and chest. "Hold your fire!" Lorenzo barked, his voice a low, vibrating growl that rattled my teeth. He didn't look at his men. His eyes were locked onto mine, burning with a terrifying mixture of lethal fury and dark, twisted fascination. His grip on my wrist tightened, grinding the bones together until my fingers went numb and the bloody shard of glass slipped from my hand, clattering uselessly onto the floorboards. "You really are a piece of work, Alina," Lorenzo whispered, his breath hot and ragged against my lips. He was pinning my body completely flat against his solid chest, his weight completely crushing me into the mattress. "You almost had me." "I should have killed you," I spit out, coughing as his heavy frame restricted my lungs. "You're a psychopath." Lorenzo let out a dark, breathless chuckle that sent a violent shiver down my spine. "Maybe. But I'm a living psychopath. And you just officially traded your status from a useful witness to an active combatant." He violently yanked my hands behind my back again, using his own heavy silk tie to bind my wrists together so tightly I winced. He shoved me back onto the bed, stepping away as he wiped the single drop of blood from his neck with his thumb. He looked down at his stained skin, then back at me. "Put the doctor in the vehicle," Lorenzo commanded, his voice returning to that chilling, emotionless baritone. "He’s too valuable to kill on a rug. We'll extract the ledger's location from him at the warehouse." "No! Leave him alone!" I screamed, thrifting my legs out, trying to kick at the guards as they violently hoisted Dr. Evans’s limp, groaning body off the floor. "Alina... don't look..." Dr. Evans wheezed, his head sagging as they dragged him out of the room like a sack of garbage. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind them, leaving only Lorenzo and me in the room. The silence that followed was suffocating. Lorenzo walked slowly toward the door, his hand resting on the brass handle. He paused, turning his head slightly to look at me over his shoulder. The moonlight caught the sharp edge of his jaw and the stark white bandage on his nose. "Get some rest, little mouse," Lorenzo murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous, dark promise. "Because tomorrow at dawn, you are going to watch me break him. And if he doesn't talk... you're next." Click. The deadbolt slid back into place. I was left in the pitch black, my wrists bound tighter than before, surrounded by the metallic scent of Dr. Evans's fresh blood on the floor. Tomorrow, they were going to torture the only person who had ever looked out for me. And I had exactly six hours to figure out how to stop it.Freezing river water pooled around my hips, but the only thing I could actually feel was the crushing weight of Lorenzo’s body pinning me flat against the deck plates.Every single wave that slammed into the hull sent a violent jolt straight through the fiberglass. It should have hurt. It should have made me scramble to get out from beneath his massive frame. But his solid chest was pressing down so hard against mine that my heart had no choice but to sync up with the frantic, erratic rhythm hammering under his ribs."Get off me, De Luca," I muttered, my voice cracking as the biting wind whipped my wet hair across my lips. "The gates are behind us. You're going to break my ribs.""You aren't moving an inch, Alina," he growled right against my ear.His hand was tangled so deeply into the hair at the back of my head that the metal pins from the gala were digging straight into my scalp. It wasn't a gentle hold. It was a fierce, entirely territorial grip that locked my head in place. His
Rusted iron canal gates looked like a pair of giant, decaying guillotine blades dropped straight into the grey morning mist.They blocked the direct path to the open river channel. Only an eighteen-inch gap of black, swirling water remained visible at the surface. Beyond the iron bars, the silhouette of a massive corporate security transport truck idled broadside across the concrete lock wall. High-beam headlights cut two blinding, white shafts of light straight through the rain. They illuminated the churning foam of our wake."They've jammed the emergency winch!" Marco shouted from the stern deck plates. His voice was nothing but a wet, rattling gasp as he tried to raise his sidearm. His hand slipped on the bloody fiberglass. The silver gun clattered uselessly against the battery locker."Alina, take the throttle!" Lorenzo growled.He didn't wait for me to move. He shoved me toward the plastic steering wheel. His long, blood-stained fingers gripped my shoulder to anchor me against th
The rain picked up the second our boots hit the wet wooden planks of the canal boardwalk.It was coming down in freezing sheets again, washing the fresh blood from the Hook’s office floor off my leather boots. Lorenzo was leaning almost his entire massive weight against my left shoulder. His breathing was nothing but a jagged, hot rattle against my neck, and the fresh crimson stain on his chest was already soaking through the grey sweatpants I’d borrowed."Marco..." Lorenzo wheezed, his head sagging forward until his dark hair brushed my chin. "The dock... behind the salt rack.""I'm looking," I muttered, my teeth chattering as the wind sliced right through the torn front of my green t-shirt.My right hand was still buried in my waistband, my fingers white-knuckled around the checkered grip of the silver pistol. The metal was burning cold against my skin, but it was the only thing keeping my mind from completely fracturing. I wasn't a soldier. I was a girl who used to balance cafeteri
The old canal office smelled like salted cod, wet rot, and the grease they used to line the massive iron water gates.Marco had kicked the rotted pine door inward with a single thud, clearing a path through a mountain of discarded plastic crates and rusted netting. We laid Lorenzo down on a grease-stained leather bench in the back corner of the room. A cracked window pane looked out over the black, stagnant water of the canal slip, where the morning mist was rolling in thick and sour off the industrial flats."The bleeding is getting sticky again," I said, dropping the metal water bucket onto the scuffed floorboards with a sharp splash.My hands were filthy, caked in a mixture of gray marsh mud and the dark purple crimson that had dried under my fingernails since the shipyard blast. The faded green t-shirt I was wearing was nothing but a rag now, the bottom half completely shredded into bandages that were already turning the color of rust against Lorenzo’s chest."Don't look... at the
The river didn’t care that the De Luca empire was burning. It just churned beneath the hull of the launch boat, a black, oily expanse slick with diesel and choked by the storm.Marco slammed the throttle forward, and the twin fiberglass engines let out a violent, screaming whine that tore through the midnight air. The boat lurched, its bow slamming hard against the crest of a dark river wave, sending a sheet of freezing spray straight over the windshield. It hit my face like crushed glass, instantly washing away the fresh plaster dust and the bitter tang of gun smoke that had settled in my throat.I sat flat on the deck plates in the stern, my oversized grey sweatpants soaked through, plastering heavy and cold against my shins.Lorenzo was leaned back against the iron battery locker right beside me. He looked entirely hollowed out, the stark white surgical bandages across his chest now completely grey, dripping a sluggish, dark crimson onto the wet fiberglass between his boots. The fi
The world didn’t just explode; it came apart in sheets of iron and fire.My father didn't wait for a response. He didn't wait for Matteo Rossi to adjust his aim or for Lorenzo to pull the trigger from the crane tower. He just raised his rifle and fired a short, three-round burst straight at the concrete deck between my feet.BANG. BANG. BANG.Concrete chips flew into the air, slicing across the fabric of my grey sweatpants and drawing thin lines of hot blood on my shins."Alina, run!" Lorenzo roared from the scaffolding.The standoff shattered into pure chaos. The two Rossi shooters opened fire blindly into the smoke screen, their muzzle flashes illuminating the heavy downpour in stuttering, violent orange strobes. Marco dived behind a stack of rusted oil drums near the pier edge, his silver pistol barking in rapid succession as he took out the first shooter before the man could even turn his rifle line.THWIP. THWIP. THWIP."You bastard!" Matteo screamed, scrambling backward toward t







