Chapter 2 Blood in the Rain

"Leave me! Let me go, you monsters!"

I slammed my fists repeatedly against the guard’s broad back, but it was like beating on solid stone. He carried me effortlessly over his massive shoulder, walking down the dim subterranean hallway of the auction house as if I weighed nothing more than a ragdoll.

Desperate, I kicked my legs wildly, trying to land a blow against his ribs or throat. "Put me down!"

A sharp spike of pain shot through my knuckles. My hands were swollen and throbbing, but the guard didn’t even flinch. He didn’t groan, didn’t slow down, didn’t acknowledge my frantic struggles in the slightest.

Exhaustion pulled at my limbs. Panting, I let my bruised hands fall against his heavy leather jacket.

He pushed through a heavy steel exit door, emerging into a private underground garage lined with black armored SUVs. Without a word, he opened the rear door of the central vehicle and tossed me unceremoniously onto the leather seat.

Scrambling across the upholstery, I lunged for the door frame before it could shut. "No—"

Slam!

The heavy door snapped shut in my face with a deafening metallic thud.

"Let me go!" I shrieked, pounding my chained fists against the bulletproof tinted glass. "Let me out! Please!"

The locks clicked into place with finality.

I slumped against the window, warm tears tracking through the grime and dried blood on my cheeks. My entire body shook with violent tremors. My parents... What were they doing right now? My dad had probably called the garage, worried sick. My mother was probably crying at the kitchen table, wondering why her only daughter hadn’t come home.

Why did I ever agree to take that shift? Why did I step into that VVIP room?

I pulled my knees against my chest, closing my eyes tight, the memory of that fateful night clawing its way back to the surface.

Two nights ago, after my shift at The Obsidian Lounge finally ended, the city streets had been quiet and drenched in a light drizzle.

I walked briskly down the dim alley toward the bus stop, my coat pulled tight against the damp air. My mind was still spinning from the encounter in the private chamber. Those piercing, molten-gold eyes. That deep, terrifying voice telling me that nothing was going to be alright.

I was so consumed by the memory that I didn’t hear the approaching vehicle until its high beams blinded me.

Tires screeched. A sleek black sedan swung around the corner, blocking the exit of the alley.

Four heavily built men stepped out immediately, their expressions predatory and cold.

"There she is," one of them rasped, moving to flank me. "Grab her."

Panic exploded in my veins. "Stay back!"

Before the first man could reach for my collar, I reached into my coat pocket, whipped out my keychain pepper spray, and aimed directly for his eyes.

A sharp hiss of pressurized aerosol cut through the alley. The man screamed, clutching his face and stumbling backward.

The second man lunged. Driven purely by adrenaline, I drove my heel hard into his knee, snapping his balance, then swung my heavy leather tote bag right into the third man's nose with a sickening crunch.

I scrambled backward toward the main road, gasping for air, fighting with everything I had.

Then the sedan’s rear door opened.

A younger man in a designer Italian suit stepped out, stepping over his blinded goon with sheer irritation. Luca Romano.

"Useless idiots," he sneered. "Can't even handle one little waitress."

Before I could turn to run, the two remaining men grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms violently behind my back. I thrashed, trying to kick free, but their grips were vice-like.

Luca strolled toward me, his lips curling into an arrogant smirk. "You put up a nice fight, sweet cheeks."

Without warning, his hand snapped across my face.

The force of the slap whipped my head sideways, splitting my lip and sending stars bursting across my vision.

"Listen to me carefully," Luca whispered, stepping close enough that I could smell the stale alcohol on his breath. "You're coming with us. I'll pay you handsomely for your time, and maybe if you behave, I'll let you go by morning."

Disgust burned through the pain in my cheek. I spit the blood out onto the toe of his leather shoe and stared straight into his eyes. "I'd rather rot in hell than let your filthy hands touch me."

His expression twisted with pure rage. "You little bitch—"

He raised his hand to strike me again.

Crack!

A single, suppressed gunshot echoed sharply down the alley.

A red bloom erupted in the center of Luca’s forehead. His eyes froze, his smirk instantly dying as his knees buckled. He collapsed forward onto the wet asphalt, lifeless.

The two men holding me froze in shock. "Mr. Romano...!"

Out from the deep shadows of the alley, slow, deliberate footsteps approached.

A towering silhouette emerged under the flickering streetlamp, holding a silenced pistol with steady, terrifying precision.

My breath caught in my throat.

The man from the VVIP lounge.

His golden eyes burned with lethal calm in the darkness, fixed directly on the men holding me.

One of the guards went pale, his voice trembling with sheer terror. "M-Mr. Blackthorn...!"

Before either of them could pull a weapon or turn to flee, Zayden Blackthorn raised his arm.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Three precise shots. Three bodies dropped to the wet concrete within seconds.

The sudden violence, the metallic stench of fresh blood, the terrifying efficiency with which four lives were snuffed out in front of me—it shattered whatever composure I had left. A piercing scream ripped from my throat.

Zayden lowered his gun, his piercing gaze locking onto my trembling form as he took a step forward.

"Serena—" he started, his voice low and commanding.

I didn't wait for him to finish.

Terror took over. I spun around, scrambled over the wet pavement, and ran for my life into the night.

I had recognized the whispers from the underground. The rumors that terrified the city. He wasn't just a wealthy customer. He was Zayden Blackthorn—the ruthless Mafia boss who ruled the shadows.

The vibration of the SUV’s engine starting jerked me violently back to reality.

I looked out through the dark window. The auction house was disappearing behind us as the vehicle accelerated up a private ramp and into the night.

I had run with everything I had that night, yet here I was—locked inside his vehicle, bound in heavy chains, purchased for ten million dollars.

The partition between the front and rear seats lowered silently.

Sitting in the adjacent seat in the shadows, his presence overwhelming the entire space, was Zayden Blackthorn.

His golden eyes glowed in the dim interior light as he leaned slightly forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

"You should have known," he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers straight down my spine. "No one escapes me twice."