LOGINBROOKLYN Morning came quietly. Not gently—but quietly, like it didn’t want to scare me awake. I opened my eyes to pale light filtering through unfamiliar curtains and for a split second forgot where I was. Then the weight settled back in—safe house three, the night call, Dominic’s voice in my ear, soon pressed into my chest like a promise that could bruise. I lay there listening. No alarms. No rushing footsteps. Just the low, steady hum of security and the distant clink of dishes somewhere downstairs. Relief crept in slowly, cautious as a stray cat. A knock sounded at my door. Soft. Respectful. I sat up immediately. “Yeah?” The door opened just enough for Mr. Alcott to peer in. “Good morning, Mrs. Blackwell. Gerald has arrived.” My heart skipped. “Is everything okay?” “Yes,” he said. And this time—this time—he smiled. Just a little. “Very much so.” That was all it took. I was out of bed in seconds. ⸻ Elliot was already dressed when I reached his room, sitting cross-l
DOMINICHope was a luxury I couldn’t afford.I’d learned that the hard way—through blood, through silence, through promises made in rooms that never saw daylight. Hope made men hesitate. It made them believe tomorrow was guaranteed.Tomorrow wasn’t.The second the call with Brooklyn ended, the quiet closed in again—cold, sharp, unforgiving. Her voice still echoed faintly in my head, steady but strained, like she was holding herself together for my sake. I stared at my phone for half a second longer than necessary, thumb hovering over the screen as if I could pull her back through it.Soon.I meant it. God help me, I did.But soon only mattered if I survived long enough to keep the promise.I locked the phone and slipped it into my pocket, forcing myself to move. Standing still was dangerous. Thinking was worse.The warehouse sat on the edge of the river, abandoned on paper and very much occupied in reality. Its windows were dark, its doors rusted, the kind of place no one noticed unle
BROOKLYNSleep didn’t come.It hovered just out of reach, teasing me with half-dreams and jolting me awake every time the house creaked or the wind pressed too hard against the windows. I lay there staring at the ceiling until my eyes burned, my mind replaying the same images over and over—Dominic’s hand at my neck, his voice saying for always, the way he’d turned away like staying would cost him something he couldn’t afford to lose.At some point, my throat went dry.The kind of dry that made breathing uncomfortable.I pushed myself up slowly, careful not to make noise even though there was no one to disturb. The digital clock on the bedside table glowed 2:17 a.m.Of course it was.I padded out of the room and down the hall, the house hushed in that deep, suspended way only the middle of the night could manage. Even the security hum felt quieter, like it knew better than to intrude.The kitchen light flicked on softly.I poured myself a glass of water, hands shaking just enough that
BROOKLYNThe drive felt longer without him.Not because the road stretched on endlessly — but because every mile put more distance between us and the one person who made this chaos feel controlled.Dominic wasn’t in the car this time.Gerald drove.Mr. Alcott sat in the front passenger seat, posture perfect, eyes constantly scanning mirrors and dark roads.Martha was in the back with Elliot and me, her presence solid and grounding.But Dominic’s absence was loud.Too loud.Elliot leaned against my side, already half-asleep, his fingers still curled around his inhaler even though his breathing had evened out. I kept my arm wrapped around him like if I loosened my grip even slightly, something terrible might slip through the cracks.The car moved silently through winding roads, headlights dimmed, trees blurring past like shadows that didn’t quite exist.I kept checking my phone.No messages.I knew better than to expect one — Dominic wasn’t the kind of man who texted while dealing with
BROOKLYN“Never.”The word left my mouth before I could think about it.Before I could remember that this was supposed to be temporary.Before I could remind myself that this man — this danger — this life — was not meant to swallow me whole.But Dominic’s hand tightened around mine like it was instinct.Like it was survival.Like letting go wasn’t an option for either of us.“Stay here,” he said quickly, already pulling me behind him as footsteps thundered down the hallway. “Do not move unless I tell you to.”“I’m not a child,” I snapped, fear making my voice sharper than I intended.His head turned just enough for me to see his eyes.Steel.Absolute.“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m asking you.”Then he was gone.Gerald rushed past me next, barking orders into his earpiece. Mr. Alcott followed, expression unreadable but deadly calm. Somewhere deeper in the house, alarms began to hum — low, controlled, not the blaring kind you hear in movies.The quiet kind.The kind that meant this
DOMINICShe looked smaller in the hallway.Not physically — Brooklyn never looked small — but emotionally.Like the weight of tonight had finally settled on her shoulders, and she didn’t know where to put it.Her eyes were still wide, still stormy, still full of the moment we’d shared before Gerald barged in.Before everything crashed down again.I walked toward her, each step slower than the last. Not because I hesitated — but because something in her expression made my control slip in ways I wasn’t prepared for.Fear.Curiosity.And something else.Something I shouldn’t crave.“Are you okay?” I asked, voice lower than I meant.She huffed out a weak, humorless sound. “You’re asking me that? After… all of that?”I stopped in front of her — too close, not close enough.Her breath stuttered when she looked up at me. “You left like something was wrong.”“It was,” I said simply. “It is.”She swallowed slowly. “Then tell me.”I didn’t.Not because I didn’t want to — because I shouldn’t.Be







