Fire in the Dark

The warehouse was a monster of shadows, a labyrinth of crates and containers that smelled of metal and dust. The only light came from a few hanging bulbs in the ceiling, casting yellowish pools that made every corner look like it was hiding a threat. My heart was pounding so hard I could swear Marco could hear it as he guided me down a narrow corridor, his hand firm on my arm. That touch, though authoritative, carried a warmth that made me aware of every inch of my skin. I didn’t want to admit it, but his closeness disarmed me—even in a place like this, where danger seemed to breathe down my neck.

“Stay behind me,” Marco murmured, his voice low but charged with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. His gray eyes scanned the space, alert, like a predator in his territory. The leather jacket strained over his shoulders, and the way he moved—with a mix of grace and brute strength—reminded me that this man wasn’t just dangerous: he was lethal.

I didn’t know what I expected to find here, but each step made me feel more trapped. The echo of our footsteps bounced around us, and the memory of the transfer to Aurora Holdings kept burning in my mind. That initial, E, was a splinter under my skin, a clue I couldn’t let go of. But now, trapped in this warehouse with Marco, the accounts felt like a distant problem. Here, danger was real, tangible—and he was the only shield between me and whatever lurked ahead.

We reached a steel door at the back of the warehouse. Marco stopped, his body taut, and gently pushed me against the wall, his arm a protective barrier.

“Quiet,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. My pulse skyrocketed, not just from fear, but from the way his nearness ignited something in me I didn’t want to name. His eyes met mine for a second, and I swear I saw something beyond the cold—desire, maybe, or something deeper.

Before I could process it, the door creaked open and three men appeared. Two were thugs, built like Enzo, but the third was different. Slim, with a sharp smile and eyes gleaming with malice, he wore a gray suit that looked absurdly out of place in this den.

“Marco,” he said, his voice syrupy but laced with venom. “I thought you’d come alone.”

“Javier,” Marco replied, his tone icy.

My stomach clenched. Javier Cortez? The name rang like a warning—leader of the rival family Carla had casually mentioned. Marco took a step forward, placing his body firmly between me and them.

“I’m not here for games. Where’s my shipment?”

Javier laughed, a sound that set my nerves on edge.

“Always so direct. But I see you brought company.” His eyes slid over to me, and I felt stripped bare under his gaze. “Who’s the doll? A new acquisition?”

Marco tensed, his grip on my arm tightening.

“She’s none of your business,” he growled, and there was something in his voice—something fiercely protective—that made me shiver. “Talk about my shipment, or this ends now.”

Javier raised his hands, pretending to surrender, but the smile never left his face.

“Relax, Vallardi. Your shipment’s here. But there’s a price.” He gestured, and one of his men dropped a bag on the ground. The metallic sound it made told me this wasn’t just about money.

Suddenly, a figure stepped from the shadows behind Javier. A woman—tall and elegant, with jet-black hair pulled into a flawless bun and a red dress that hugged every curve. Her eyes met Marco’s, and something in her expression put me on alert.

“Marco, I didn’t expect you to be so… accompanied,” she said, her voice soft but dripping with false sweetness. Marco pushed me behind him, his body forming a wall.

“Elena,” he said sharply. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She smiled but didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to Javier, her movements calculated.

“Let’s give him what he came for and be done with it,” she said, though her eyes stayed locked on me, assessing.

The air thickened with tension, more than words could hold. Marco leaned toward me, his voice a whisper.

“Stay close, Sofia. If this goes bad—run.” His hand brushed mine, a fleeting but electric touch, and for a second, I forgot where we were. There was only him—his warmth, his silent promise to protect me.

But things went sideways before I could respond. One of Javier’s men pulled a gun, and in an instant, chaos erupted. Marco shoved me to the ground behind a stack of crates, his body covering mine as gunshots rang out. The smell of gunpowder filled the air, and my heart raced so fast I could barely breathe.

“Stay down!” he growled, his voice rough but steady. He drew a pistol from inside his jacket, and the way he moved—fast, precise—left me breathless. He was a man made for this world. Dangerous. Magnetic. And I was trapped in his orbit.

The gunfire stopped as suddenly as it began. Javier and his men retreated, leaving the bag on the ground. Elena followed, but not before giving me a look that sent ice through my veins. Marco stood and helped me to my feet with a steady hand. His touch was warm, but his eyes burned with fire.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost intimate.

I nodded, though my legs were shaking.

“What was that?” I stammered, my mind spinning. “Who was that woman?”

Marco didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled me closer, his hand on my waist—a gesture as protective as it was possessive.

“Someone you don’t want to cross,” he said, his breath brushing my cheek. The heat of his body against mine was overwhelming, and for a moment, the warehouse faded away. It was just the two of us—danger still pulsing around us—but his presence was an anchor.

“Come on,” he said, guiding me to the car. But before I got in, he stopped, his hand still at my waist.

He looked at me—and I swear I saw something raw in his eyes, something that wasn’t just the mafia boss.

“Don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I don’t like losing what’s mine.”

My breath caught.

His?

I wanted to protest, but the intensity of his gaze, the way his finger traced along my hip, left me speechless. We climbed into the car in silence, the engine roaring as we pulled away from the warehouse. But the danger, the sensuality of that moment, and Elena’s image still burned in my mind.

This game was becoming deadlier by the second—

And I didn’t know if I wanted to escape…

Or surrender.