SARAHMarco’s breathing was soft beside me, but it wasn’t peaceful. His jaw stayed tight, and his brow kept twitching like he was fighting someone in his dreams. I lay there curled into him, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his arm across me. Warm, steady, but heavy like everything else about him. The house was quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the sound of him breathing, but my mind was loud. I kept thinking about the way he walked in tonight, smelling like smoke and blood and that sharp scent of gunpowder.Dinner felt like a lifetime ago. The way we laughed while folding baby clothes, how he tried to act like the mob boss folding tiny onesies was beneath him. It had been nice, like a flash of the life we used to have before this war dragged him deeper into the dirt.I couldn’t sleep. I just stared at him. Even now, resting on the couch, with his head tilted back and his hand still half on my belly, he looked like a man ready to wake up swinging. I rubbed my t
SARAHI woke up to the softest light pouring into the room, like the sun was taking its time this morning. The sheets were cold against my skin, the AC turned up too high again. I grumbled quietly, reaching out to switch it off, still half-asleep. But as soon as I opened my eyes, there he was. Marco. Sitting at the edge of the bed, sipping his coffee like he owned the whole world.He didn’t say anything right away. Just stared at me with that usual serious face. The one that always made me wonder if he was solving a problem or planning to break someone’s legs before lunch. But then, just as I was about to tease him, his mouth curled into the smallest, rarest smile.“You sleep like a baby,” he said, voice deep and scratchy from the coffee or maybe just from being Marco.I yawned, still fighting to stay under the covers. “I’m pregnant, I think I’m allowed.”He leaned closer, voice dropping a little as if it was just for me. “No, like a baby baby. Drooling, little pout, the whole thing.”
SARAHMy heart slammed against my ribs as Marco’s words sank in, ringing inside my head over and over. “They found us.” The beach felt like it got smaller, like the whole world shrunk to just the two of us sitting there in the fading light. The soft crash of waves, the breeze off the ocean, the smell of salt in the air—all of it faded behind that one sentence. Marco’s body was already moving, already shifting into that other side of him. The side I hated. The one that made him untouchable and far away, like no matter how close I stood, I could never quite reach him.I just sat there for a second, watching him. The man who had been laughing with me minutes ago, struggling to set up a picnic table like a regular guy, now moved like the man who ran half of New York. His face was stone. Cold. Like every wall I’d been trying to chip away at all these years just slammed back into place. He pulled out his burner phone, barking short, clipped orders to whoever was on the other end. His voic
SARAHMy breath caught in my throat as I spotted him. A man moving slow around the side of the house, gun raised behind Marco’s back. For a second, I couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Just stared at the glint of the barrel. My heart slammed so hard it felt like it might break through my chest. My fingers were sweating, gripping that little pistol Marco gave me like it was glued to my hand. I could barely breathe.Do I shout? Do I shoot?I could hear Marco’s voice from earlier—stay behind me, no matter what. But this guy was right there, ready to pull the trigger on him. And Marco hadn’t even seen him yet.My finger curled around the trigger before my mind even caught up. I squeezed it. The shot cracked so loud it rang through my ears and echoed across the beach. The man dropped fast, hitting the sand like a sack of bricks. Marco spun around fast, eyes wide, then caught sight of the body behind him. His gaze snapped to me, sharp and full of something wild.“You good?” he barked.I nodded,
SARAHWe were still crouched low behind the grass when Marco gave me the signal. His hand brushed against mine and then pointed straight ahead. Through the tall grass, I spotted it too—the Hilux parked with two Rossis pacing around it, just outside the floodlight’s reach. There was a gap, not wide but enough. I could feel Marco watching me, making sure I understood. My pulse was hammering so loud I swore they could hear it.Marco mouthed, “Stay on me,” then started moving. I followed, every inch of me tense as we crept low. The night felt heavier, thicker, like the air itself didn’t want to give us room to breathe.Marco moved like he had done this a hundred times before. His steps were light, careful, and fast. Mine, shaky. I was fighting not to trip on the roots or snap a twig that would give us away.When we got close enough, Marco paused, eyeing the first guard leaning lazily against the truck, rifle slung low. In one motion, Marco slipped behind him, wrapped an arm around the guy
SARAHMarco moved like the world outside didn’t exist. He swung the Hilux door open and was already walking toward the chaos. No hesitation. Just that sharp, cold focus that always made me forget to breathe. He linked up with Tony and Petrov, who flanked him like they’d been waiting for this moment all night.Before I could even think about following, Marco cut me a sharp look. A silent command. Stay down. Stay close.My fingers clenched tighter around the pistol. My heart was thumping hard enough to shake my ribs, but I nodded. I slid back behind the Hilux, knees brushing the dirt as I tried to stay small.Marco’s men were moving like a machine, fast and hard. Tony barked sharp orders to his crew as they fanned out. The Rossis were scrambling, caught off guard by the pushback. Their line was breaking and I could feel it. The tide was turning, but it wasn’t clean. Not yet.From my spot behind the Hilux, I could see Marco weaving through the fight like he belonged in the middle of it.
MARCOThe rest of the ride was dead quiet. The only sound was the hum of the engine and the tires rolling against the road. I kept my hands steady on the wheel, but my eyes kept drifting toward Sarah. She was staring straight ahead, eyes locked on nothing, her body stiff. I could feel it coming off her, that storm brewing inside. She wasn’t like me. She wasn’t meant for this kind of blood and dirt.She killed a man tonight. Pulled the trigger and watched him drop. I could still see it in her face, the way her jaw clenched afterward, how her hands shook when she thought I wasn’t looking. I wondered what was running through her head. Was it guilt? Fear? Shock? Hell, maybe all of it.I tried to tell myself she’d be fine. But deep down, I knew that was bullshit. My world does not leave you fine.As we got closer to the estate, I felt that familiar weight pressing on my chest. The streets were too calm, like they didn’t know the kind of chaos that just happened out there. The city lights w
*********Damien sat in the corner of the safehouse office, dim light hanging above him, casting long shadows across the room. The drink in his hand did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside him. His jaw clenched as he stared at the blank wall ahead, fingers tightening around the glass. He could still hear the gunfire from earlier, see the chaos in his head like it was happening again. The plan was supposed to go clean, fast, efficient. Now, Marco had taken back control.He slammed the glass down on the table, sharp enough that the few men waiting outside the office flinched. He could hear them murmuring beyond the door, probably too scared to step in. He paced the room, every step heavy, every thought sharper than the next. How the hell did Marco’s people turn it around so fast? How did they know? How did this slip through the cracks?Finally, the door creaked open, and two of his men stepped inside, stiff like they were walking into a lion’s den.“Well?” Damien barked, crossing h
MARCOThey dragged me in like a dog. Wrists tied behind the chair, ribs throbbing from the last round of hits. Two of Marcel’s boys kept my arms tight while another threw a punch right into my stomach. I grunted, leaned forward, and caught a second one across my jaw.I didn’t scream or beg.I just looked straight ahead at him.Marcel.Sitting in his chair like some king, legs crossed, drink in his hand. There was a sick grin across his face like he was watching a comedy show.The guards landed another hit. One to my shoulder. One to my gut again. My body was wrecked, but my mind stayed sharp. I kept staring at him. Letting him know I wasn’t broken.When they were done, I coughed and spit a mouthful of blood to the side, then looked right back at him.“You done?” I muttered.He laughed. “You still got that mouth on you.”I didn’t reply. I just kept staring. Waiting. Hoping. Begging for anything — an opening, a mistake. I wasn’t dying in this chair. I’d kill him. Somehow, some way. He w
MARCOSmoke swallowed everything. Thick, sour, crawling down my throat. I couldn’t see five feet in front of me. Couldn’t hear anything but that damn ringing — sharp and endless like it was coming from inside my brain. Felt like the world cracked in half, and I was standing right at the center of it.My knees buckled as I took a few shaky steps. My hand went straight to my head, gripping tight like that’d make the noise stop. But it didn’t. It only got worse. I couldn’t even tell if I was walking forward or in circles.“Gio?” My voice came out broken. Dry. Weak.“Petrov?”Nothing.“Tony?” I tried louder. “Denis!”Still nothing.My heartbeat was the only real sound now. That, and the crunch of debris under my boots as I stumbled ahead. My eyes burned — from smoke, from panic, I didn’t know. I blinked hard, over and over, until the haze started to shift.Then I saw them.My heart dropped. I mean really dropped — like the floor disappeared underneath me.All four of them were down. Flat
MARCOWe moved slow down the corridor, shadows thick around us, every step tight and careful. The walls felt like they were closing in more with every turn. My gun was warm in my hand, not from use, but from how long I’d been gripping it. I didn’t loosen my fingers. Couldn’t. Not now.Denis came up beside me, pressing closer to the wall, breathing heavy but steady. His sleeve was darker than before — the blood still hadn’t stopped. But he kept moving. That’s the kind of man he was.“Its clear now Marcel knows,” Denis said, voice low.“I know that, Marcel right?” I responded, even though I already knew the answer.He nodded. “Maybe he thinks its not you. But he knows someone’s here. He’s spooked. Movement in the north wing, checkpoints locking up tighter.”I looked ahead, eyes narrowing at the half-lit hall we were creeping down. “What where Sarah is being kept?”“That’s the thing,” Denis said. “Still no extra traffic to the east side. Either Damien doesn’t believe it’s you, or he’s wa
MARCOThe door clicked shut behind us as we got into the warehouse, the sound barely louder than a breath, but it made my shoulders tighten anyway. No turning back now.Inside, the hallway stretched ahead, cold and narrow, concrete walls sweating under dim, buzzing lights. Shadows shifted along the floors, long and slow like they were alive. We kept close to the edges, moving low and tight, every step thought out. No wasted moves. No wasted noise.Denis was right behind me, eyes glued to the small handheld device strapped to his wrist. The screen flickered every couple of seconds, showing black and white camera feeds from inside the compound. He tapped the screen twice, then waved me over with a sharp flick of his fingers.“Straight two halls, take a left,” he whispered, voice so low it barely stirred the air. “One guard at the station. He’s sitting, not moving.”I gave a tight nod. Lifted my hand and gave the signal. Two fingers. Tony and Gio caught it instantly, adjusting their posi
MARCELI kicked back in my chair, boots up on the desk, glass of whiskey hanging loose in my hand. The oak groaned under me, but I didn’t give a damn. I earned this seat. I earned everything. Sarah was mine now. Marco? That bastard was a ghost, a scared little whisper hiding in the dark, too broken to come for her.I took a slow sip, letting the burn roll down my throat, and smiled to myself. All the noise, all the fight she had when we first grabbed her… it was fading. Day by day. I saw it in her eyes. Less spark. Less bite. She was still holding on to Marco, sure. But that wouldn’t last. It never did. Not when you had no one left to believe in. Not when all the walls closed in.All I needed was time. Time and a little patience. Women like her, they didn’t fall easy — but when they did, they fell hard. I’d treat her good once she saw it. Once she stopped looking at me like I was the enemy. She didn’t get it yet, but she would. I’d give her everything. New clothes, good food, no more
MARCOAs we moved closer to the warehouse, the world around us shifted. No more breathing room. No more second chances. I lifted my hand, fingers moving in sharp signals the team knew by heart. Petrov and Gio broke off fast, slipping into the tree line to handle the chaos. Their job was simple: create enough noise, enough blood, to keep Marcel’s eyes off me. My job was simpler. Get to Sarah. Bring her home.I moved ahead, leading my half of the team. Tony and Denis stayed tight behind me, heading toward the wing where Denis swore they kept her. The woods around us swallowed the sound of our boots, every step careful, every move sharp. The cold night clung to my skin, biting a little, but I welcomed it. It kept me awake. It kept me locked in.Up ahead, a small light flickered behind a tree line. I crouched low, holding my fist up to stop the others. Two guards patrolled near the inner fence, walking lazy, rifles slung low, no care in their step.I looked at Tony and jerked my chin towa
MARCOThe safehouse stank of sweat and gun oil. It had been a day now. One long, heavy day. I stood over the table, arms braced against the wood, staring down at the maps, the grainy photos, the scribbled notes we had piled together. Every street, every guard rotation, every weak spot Marcel thought he hid. It was all laid out in front of me like a body waiting for burial.The guys were scattered around the room, geared up. Tony sat sharpening a knife that didn’t need sharpening. Gio leaned against the wall, checking his pistol again and again. Petrov stood by the window, looking out like he expected hell to pull up in a car. Denis was at the far end of the table, hands flat, answering the last of our questions like a man who knew his life depended on it. It did.“Alright,” I said, my voice steady even if everything inside me was screaming. “One more time.”I tapped the map with the tip of my finger. “We roll in here. Two SUVs. No fancy shit. We stay fast, clean. Denis says the east f
ISABELLAI sat near the window with a half-full glass of wine, legs crossed, posture easy. Outside, the yard stretched quiet under soft light, the fences glowing under the dim wash of security lamps. The wind barely moved. Even the trees felt too still. It looked like peace, but it wasn’t. It was something else. Something pretending to be calm.Behind me, Marcel was laughing, his voice bouncing off the walls like this place was some damn hotel and not the cage it really was. Two of his men stood with him, drinking, cracking jokes like they didn’t have a care in the world. That’s what bothered me. They weren’t tense like they used to be. There was no edge in the air. No clipped words or extra rounds being loaded. Just pride. Stupid, loud pride.Marcel turned a bit, speaking louder now, wanting me to hear. “You know what I think?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He never does. “I think Marco’s done. Crawled into whatever hole he came out of, dragging his tail behind him. Wallowing in that
SARAHThe cold woke me before the pain did. My body was already curled tight, but it didn’t help. The chill still found its way into my bones, into my stomach, into everything. I tried to stretch, just a little, but my back screamed and my legs cramped. My head throbbed with that dull pressure that never really left. I didn’t even open my eyes right away. I just laid there, breathing through it, waiting for the nausea to pass.I was starving. And still, the idea of food made my stomach twist. It wasn’t just the baby. It was the food they brought. Cold, bland, rough like they’d scraped it off the bottom of a pan and tossed it at me out of pity. Or worse, duty. I’d thrown it up more than once. Now I just took small bites and held it down as long as I could. My throat stayed dry. My mouth too. I’d started cutting what little food I got into pieces, counting the bites like that somehow helped. It didn’t. But it gave me something to do, something to control.I turned onto my side slowly. T