MARCOI set the phone down slowly, feeling its cold weight in my hand as the call ended. The finality of it pressed down on me like a thick fog—heavy, unnerving. He had confirmed my resignation. He’d told me where to pick Sarah up. But none of it felt right, like waking up from a bad dream only to realize you’re still stuck in it. The silence in the room was too still, too loud, broken only by the steady, muted breaths of Tony and Petrov beside me. They waited, both of them watching me closely, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, to clear the swirl of unease that kept nagging at the back of my mind.Tony was the first to break the silence, leaning back in his chair with that usual smirk—half-reassuring, half-infuriating. “See? I told you this would happen.” He stretched his arms out, almost too casual, too satisfied. “First things first—Sarah is safe, Marco. She’s alive, which is a damn good factor in all this.” He paused, raising a brow. “Now? Now it’s our turn. Time to hit th
MARCOThe room was silent except for the smooth metallic sound of zippers being undone as Dimitri revealed his collection. The bag laid open on the table like a treasure chest—polished steel and black carbon shining under the dim light. Dimitri, ever the perfectionist, straightened the weapons out with precision, each gun lined up like soldiers ready for inspection.“Don Marco,” Dimitri began, his voice low and steady, “everything here is the best of the best. Tuned to your specifications. You know me—I don’t do sloppy.”I stepped forward, running my hand along the cold steel of a semi-automatic. It felt good in my hand, the weight just right, balanced and deadly. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” I said, cocking the gun to feel its mechanism. Smooth. No drag.Dimitri’s lips quirked into the faintest smile. “Try it out. The recoil on that one is practically non-existent. It’s custom-built for speed and precision. The kind of weapon that doesn’t just take a man down—it sends a message.”I r
MARCOThe night air clung to me like a heavy cloak, thick with tension and the metallic scent of salt from the nearby docks. As I stepped out of the car, the first thing I did was adjust the mic in my ear. Petrov’s faint voice buzzed briefly in the connection, a reminder that I wasn’t entirely alone in this. But still, the silence surrounding me felt absolute, broken only by the distant hum of machinery and the soft crunch of gravel under my boots.My hand hovered close to my side, grazing the cold steel of the gun tucked under my jacket. I didn’t draw it, not yet, but the feel of it was a small comfort. The shipyard was a maze of shadows and towering containers, each one a potential hiding place. My eyes darted left, then right, sweeping for movement. Nothing. Not yet.“Marco, can you hear me?” Petrov’s voice crackled in my ear, low but clear.I pressed the mic lightly. “Loud and clear.”“Good,” he replied. “We’ve got eyes on the perimeter. Cameras are feeding us everything in real t
MARCOThe silence inside the narrow hallway was almost unbearable. The dim, flickering light above me buzzed faintly, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. My boots clicked softly on the metal floor as I moved further in, my breaths shallow and controlled. Every step felt heavier than the last, each one carrying me deeper into uncertainty.“Petrov,” I whispered, pressing a finger to the mic in my ear. “Petrov, can you hear me?”Nothing. Just static.I paused, my heart thudding harder as the realization hit me. The connection was dead. Whether it was deliberate or accidental, I was on my own now.“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath, scanning the hallway for any sign of movement. My hand instinctively drifted toward the gun hidden beneath my jacket. I didn’t pull it out yet, but just feeling its presence steadied me a little. Whatever was waiting for me here, I wasn’t about to face it unarmed.The hallway stretched further ahead, leading to an open door on the left. The sh
MARCOThe goons gathered my weapons with smug satisfaction, tossing them onto the floor like trophies. My knife. My Glock. The backup pistol. Each piece felt like a part of me being stripped away. I clenched my jaw as the masked man stooped to pick up my gun. He held it up to the dim light, turning it over in his hand like he’d just found buried treasure.“Nice piece,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he inspected the setup. “Who’s your plug, Marco? This stuff’s top-tier. Custom job? Or do you just know the right people?”I didn’t respond, glaring at him in silence. My hands itched to grab it back, to feel the weight of it in my palm, but my wrists were bound tightly behind my back.“Not much of a talker, are you?” he continued, pacing slowly in front of me. He raised the gun and mimed aiming it, letting out a low whistle. “Damn. This feels good. Might keep it. Hope you don’t mind.”I didn’t take the bait. Instead, I focused on what they hadn’t found—the tiny chip in my boo
MARCO The ropes around my wrists burned as I strained against them, my jaw tight enough to crack a tooth. Danzo paced back and forth like a predator toying with its prey, his smirk wide and arrogant. His voice dripped with satisfaction, every word landing like a calculated blow. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he said, pausing to glance at me. “All this… it’s personal, Marco. You made it personal the moment you threw me to the wolves.” I stared him down, refusing to let the venom in his words show any effect. “You think I’m afraid of you?” “Oh, I don’t need you to be afraid. Not yet, anyway,” he said, laughing softly. “But you should be. You always underestimated me, Marco. Always thought I’d stay in your shadow, didn’t you?” I said nothing, focusing instead on Sarah, who sat just a few feet away, bound and trembling. Her eyes met mine, and the fear in them sliced through me like a blade. Danzo followed my gaze and chuckled darkly. “Ah, yes. The princess. Don’t worry, Ma
MARCOThe sound of gunfire outside was getting closer, louder. Each shot echoed like a drumbeat of inevitability, and I could see the panic setting in on Danzo’s face. His eyes darted around the room as though searching for an escape that wasn’t there.“You hear that, Danzo?” I said, leaning back in my chair. My wrists were still tied, but my voice was steady. “That’s the sound of your grand plan crumbling. Everything you set up here? It’s falling apart. And you’re dying here today.”Danzo’s head snapped toward me, his jaw tightening. For a second, he looked like he was going to lunge at me, but he held back. Instead, he pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt, his fingers gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.“Status!” he barked into the device, pacing in tight circles like a cornered animal. “What’s going on out there?”There was a pause on the other end, filled with static and the faint sound of chaos—shouting, gunfire, something heavy crashing to the ground. Finally, a vo
MARCOThe air in the room crackled with tension as I leveled the gun at Danzo, my finger firm against the trigger. He took a step back, his eyes darting between me and the scattered bodies of his men. For a second, I thought I saw fear, but it vanished just as quickly, replaced by that damn smirk he always wore, like he still had the upper hand.“It’s over for you, Danzo,” I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through me. “You might want to think twice before doing anything stupid.”He scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. His hand twitched near his side, hovering too close to the gun strapped there.“I mean it!” I barked, raising my voice. “You even so much as look at that gun, and you’ll die here, right now. No last words. No bargaining. Just done.”Danzo froze for a heartbeat, his hand still dangerously close to his weapon. “You don’t have it in you, Marco,” he sneered. “You think you’re the tough one, don’t you? You think you’re the hero in all of this?”“Shut up.” My
SARAHI had just finished setting out a few ideas for Marco’s party when my phone buzzed on the counter. Tony’s name lit up on the screen. My stomach tightened as I grabbed the phone, knowing this wasn’t a casual call.“Tony?” I answered, trying to sound composed.“Sarah,” he said, his voice low but edged with a hint of urgency. “We’ve got everything we need.”My heart skipped. “Everything? You mean—?”“We’ve got all the proof,” he cut in. “Enough to bury Isabella for good. Her lies, her schemes and the voice record properly aligned. all of it. It’s airtight.”I sat down slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. “You sure?”“Is is now clear as day,” Tony said firmly. “I’ve been over it twice. Her tracks aren’t just messy—they’re a disaster. And the best part? There’s no way she can talk her way out of this. We’ve got her, Sarah.”A slow smile crept across my face. “So that’s it, then? It’s finally over?”“Not yet,” Tony said, a slight warning in his tone. “We’ve got the information,
SARAHMarco’s gaze held mine, steady and unyielding, as he stood by the kitchen door. For a moment, the world around me seemed to fade. The clinking of utensils, the hum of the stove—it all melted into the background.He tilted his head slightly, motioning for me to follow him out. His presence filled the space, leaving no room for hesitation.I nodded at Martha, who gave me a look that was equal parts curiosity and encouragement. “I’ll be back,” I told her softly, setting down the knife.I followed Marco out into the hallway. My heart raced, the weight of everything I wanted to say pressing down on me. This was it—the moment I’d decided I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. No more avoiding the truth. No more brushing past the lies.When we reached the living room, he stopped and turned to face me. His expression was unreadable, his jaw tight.“Sarah,” he started, his voice low and careful, like he was trying to pick the right words.Before he could continue, I blurted out, “Marco, I
SARAHI lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, a small, satisfied smile tugging at my lips. Tomorrow was the day—finally. The day I’d show everyone, including Marco, the truth about Isabella. No more lies, no more manipulation. Her smugness, her arrogance, her calculated schemes—they were all about to crumble. And I would be the one to light the match.The thought kept me awake, my mind running wild with anticipation. I replayed the steps over and over, imagining her face when the truth came crashing down. She wouldn’t see it coming. The mighty Isabella, so proud and untouchable in her delusions, was about to fall.It was a satisfying thought—so satisfying, in fact, that I didn’t notice how long I lay there. When sleep finally crept in, it felt like the sweet calm before a storm I had waited too long to unleash.The next morning, sunlight filtered softly through my curtains, bathing my room in a warm glow. I stretched, the tension in my body melting away as a rush of energy surged thr
ISABELLA The crisp afternoon air greeted me as I stepped out of the café, my heels clicking confidently against the pavement. I felt invincible. Sarah’s defeated expression was seared into my memory, fueling the satisfaction coursing through me. “Too easy,” I muttered to myself, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. The sun was warm on my skin, and everything seemed brighter, as if the universe itself was congratulating me. Sarah was finally stepping aside, and soon, Marco would be all mine—just as it should have been from the start. I hailed a cab, deciding on a whim that I deserved something better than my usual routine. Somewhere upscale, somewhere that matched the victorious glow I carried. I gave the driver the name of a ritzy hotel bar I’d been to once before, a place where the drinks were overpriced and the atmosphere exuded exclusivity. As we weaved through the streets, I allowed myself a moment to revel in my triumph. Marco would be waiting for me, clueless as eve
SARAHI signaled the waiter for another cup of coffee, trying to steady my nerves. As I waited, I leaned back in my chair, letting the warmth of the café seep into my skin. Isabella’s smug face was still etched in my mind. She had strutted out of here as if she’d won the lottery, completely oblivious to the trap she had just walked into.The waiter approached, a young man with a polite smile. “Another coffee for you, ma’am?”“Yes, please,” I replied, offering him a quick smile. “Make it strong.”He nodded and walked off to the counter, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My fingers drummed on the table as I tried to process what had just happened. Isabella was so proud, so loud with her lies, it was almost laughable.She really thinks she’s won. I shook my head, a quiet chuckle escaping my lips. That arrogance of hers—how she gloated, how she leaned back in her chair like she was untouchable. She has no idea.The waiter returned with my coffee, setting it down gently in front of me. “H
SARAHAs I sipped my coffee, I tried to calm my thoughts, reminding myself of everything at stake. Marco. My marriage. My dignity. I wasn’t just doing this for myself; I was doing it to protect what we had built before Isabella decided to slither into our lives.“Stay calm, Sarah,” I whispered to myself. “You’ve got this.”I practiced steadying my breathing, rehearsing the conversation in my head. Isabella was going to walk in here, cocky and overconfident, convinced that she had already won. My job was to play the part—defeated, vulnerable, and willing to give up.But I wouldn’t give up. Not until she admitted everything.I didn’t have to wait long. Isabella arrived right on time, sauntering through the door like she owned the place. She was dressed to kill, as usual—a tailored blazer, high heels, and just enough makeup to make her look effortless. She spotted me almost immediately, and a smirk curled on her lips.I held my ground, keeping my expression neutral as she approached. Ins
SARAHThe cab rolled to a stop in front of my house, and I hesitated for a moment before climbing in. I slid into the back seat, pulling the door shut behind me, and gave the driver the address Tony had sent me. The café wasn’t far, but the drive felt like an eternity as I sat there, staring out the window, my mind spinning.This was happening. It was all in motion now. There was no turning back.The driver didn’t say much, which I appreciated. The last thing I needed was idle chatter. My thoughts were loud enough. As the city blurred past the window, I tried to focus, to steady my breathing, to keep my hands from trembling. I needed to be calm, collected, ready for whatever came next.I glanced at my phone, the screen lighting up with the address again. The weight of what I was about to do pressed down on me, but it wasn’t fear. No, it was something else. Determination. Resolve. The knowledge that this was the only way to end it.The driver finally spoke, breaking the silence. “We’re
SARAHI sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall in front of me, a small smile playing on my lips. Finally. After all the waiting, all the stress, and all the games, I was about to get the upper hand. Isabella thought she could slither her way into our lives, into Marco’s life, and get away with it. But she was wrong. Dead wrong.I couldn’t stop replaying the plan Tony and I had devised. Every detail, every angle—it was perfect. We had covered everything. And soon, her lies, her manipulations, and her smug little smirk would come crashing down. I could already taste the victory, and it was sweet.“She doesn’t even see it coming,” I muttered to myself, the thought giving me a jolt of satisfaction.I stretched, letting out a sigh. For now, I needed to keep up appearances. Pretend like nothing had changed. No suspicion, no slip-ups. The last thing I wanted was to tip her off.I got up, grabbed my laundry basket, and headed for the door. As I reached the hallway, I gave myself a qui
SARAHI paced around my room, the frustration boiling in my chest like a kettle about to scream. “I can’t do this anymore, Tony,” I said, my voice sharp and shaking as I turned to face him. He leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, his expression calm but wary. “I’m done snooping. We have enough. More than enough. She’s not slipping through this time.”Tony raised a brow, his jaw tightening. “You’re sure? What if we’re wrong? What if she’s got more dirt we don’t know about? Isabella’s crafty—she doesn’t make stupid mistakes.”“Crafty?” I scoffed, throwing my hands in the air. “That’s a polite way of saying she’s manipulative and dangerous, Tony. You’ve seen the files, the emails, the fake documents. Hell, you’ve seen the way she slithers around Marco, poisoning everything she touches. What more do you need?”“I’m just saying,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “If we act too soon, she might wiggle out of this. She’s good at covering her tracks, Sarah. We can’t risk l