Chapter 4 - Marked

Elena’s POV

The first sign comes the next morning.

It’s small. Almost nothing.

A black rose left on the hood of my car.

No note. No message. Just the flower, dark and deliberate against the dull paint, its stem trimmed cleanly like it was prepared with care.

I stand there longer than I should, keys clenched in my fist, scanning the street out of instinct even though I already know better. Whoever left it didn’t want to be seen. They wanted it found.

I don’t touch the rose.

I leave it where it is and drive to work with my heart beating too loudly in my chest.

By the time I reach The Black Halo that night, the city feels wrong. Not louder. Quieter. Like it’s listening.

Security is doubled again. New faces at the doors. Men I haven’t seen before positioned near the bar, near the stairwell, near the staff hallway. They don’t look at me openly, but I feel the weight of their awareness like pressure against my back.

Carlo doesn’t smile when he hands me my apron.

“Straight to VIP,” he says. “And you don’t leave the building alone.”

I don’t ask why.

I already know.

⸻

The rivals don’t come back in a group.

They don’t need to.

Two men arrive separately, spaced an hour apart. Different suits. Different accents. Same eyes. Calculating. Patient.

They don’t sit together.

They watch.

I feel it every time I cross the floor. Every time I lean down to place a glass or collect an empty. Their attention follows me like a slow drag of fingers I can’t shake.

One of them smiles when our eyes meet.

That’s worse than a threat.

“You’ve been busy,” a voice says quietly behind me.

I don’t turn.

I don’t need to.

“I’m working,” I reply evenly.

“You always say that,” the man murmurs.

I glance sideways just enough to see him leaning against the bar, relaxed, amused. He’s younger than the others. Too calm. The kind who enjoys watching people realise they’re already in trouble.

“You left something on my car,” I say.

His smile widens. “You found it.”

“I didn’t take it.”

“Good,” he says. “That would have been rude.”

I straighten and face him fully. “What do you want?”

“To say hello,” he replies. “And to let you know you made an impression.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s what makes it interesting.”

He steps closer. Not touching. Not crowding. Just enough to test the space.

“You stand like someone who isn’t used to asking permission,” he continues. “That tends to attract attention.”

“I’m not interested,” I say.

“Of course you are,” he replies lightly. “You just don’t know what you’re interested in yet.”

A presence settles beside us.

“Problem?” Matteo asks.

The shift in the man’s posture is immediate. Not fear. Respect.

“Just conversation,” the rival replies. “You run a tight place, De Luca.”

“I run a predictable one,” Matteo says. “That keeps misunderstandings to a minimum.”

The man chuckles. “She doesn’t look predictable.”

Matteo’s gaze doesn’t leave him. “She’s not part of the discussion.”

“Everyone’s part of the discussion,” the man replies. “Some people just don’t know it yet.”

Matteo leans in slightly. Not threatening. Not loud.

“You’re done here,” he says. “Tonight.”

The man lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Of course. No offence intended.”

“Rarely is,” Matteo replies.

The man turns to me before leaving.

“Enjoy your shift,” he says. “We’ll talk again.”

They escort him out.

My hands don’t shake.

But something cold settles behind my ribs.

⸻

Matteo’s POV

They left a mark.

That’s what the rose was. A signal. Not just to Elena, but to me. They want me to know they noticed her. That they’re willing to use her to apply pressure.

It’s clumsy.

Which makes it dangerous.

I don’t confront them immediately. I don’t react publicly. Reaction is what they want.

Instead, I adjust the board.

I bring in additional security. I rotate routes. I change schedules. Elena never leaves alone, even when she doesn’t realise she’s being followed.

She notices anyway.

She always does.

“You’ve doubled my shadow,” she says later, as I walk her to the staff exit.

“You’re observant,” I reply.

“You’ve tripled it,” she adds. “And changed the faces.”

“They noticed you,” I say.

Her jaw tightens. “I noticed them first.”

“That doesn’t change the outcome.”

“No,” she agrees. “It just means I’m not surprised.”

I stop near the door. “You don’t leave the club alone. Not until this settles.”

“And if it doesn’t?” she asks.

“Then we adapt.”

Her eyes narrow. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one that works.”

She studies me for a moment. “You’re protecting me.”

“I’m managing a risk,” I reply.

She smiles faintly. “You always say that.”

Because it’s true.

And because saying anything else would give her power she didn’t ask for but would absolutely use.

⸻

Elena

The call comes two nights later.

Unknown number.

I shouldn’t answer.

I do anyway.

“You left your lights on,” a man says softly.

My blood runs cold.

“I don’t own a car,” I reply.

A pause. Then a chuckle. “Still careful. I like that.”

“Stop calling me.”

“I’m not calling you,” he says. “I’m reminding you.”

“Of what?”

“That you’re visible.”

The line goes dead.

I stand frozen in my kitchen, phone pressed to my ear long after the call ends.

Someone knocks.

I spin, heart slamming.

It’s one of Matteo’s men.

“You’re coming with me,” he says calmly. “Now.”

⸻

Matteo

They crossed the line.

Calling her outside the club means they’re escalating. That’s no longer curiosity. That’s intent.

I move her that night.

Not dramatically. Not forcefully. I don’t cage her.

I relocate her.

A secure apartment. Neutral territory. No connection to me on paper. Guards she won’t see unless she looks for them.

She doesn’t thank me.

Good.

“This isn’t my life,” she says as she takes in the space.

“No,” I agree. “It’s temporary.”

“And my choice?” she asks.

“You have one,” I reply. “You can leave the city.”

She laughs softly. “And abandon the job? The investigation?”

I don’t answer.

We both know she won’t.

“They marked me,” she says quietly.

“Yes.”

“Because of you.”

“No,” I correct. “Because of you.”

She meets my gaze. “You could end this.”

“So could you,” I say. “By walking away.”

She doesn’t.

That tells me everything.

⸻

Elena

Living under protection is suffocating.

Even when it’s invisible.

I feel eyes everywhere. Not watching me — waiting for me. Matteo’s people don’t interfere. They don’t instruct. They simply exist.

I hate how safe it feels.

I hate how part of me relaxes into it.

The rivals don’t disappear.

They circle.

A note slipped into my locker.

A drink left untouched with my name written in condensation on the glass.

A message delivered through someone else’s mouth.

You’re interesting.

You shouldn’t hide.

You deserve better than standing in someone else’s shadow.

I report none of it.

That’s when I know I’m compromised.

⸻

Matteo

They want her to choose.

That’s their mistake.

Because she already has.

They think marking her makes her vulnerable. They don’t understand that pressure reveals structure. And structure is my domain.

I arrange a meeting.

Not to negotiate.

To end it.

⸻

Elena’s POV

He tells me after.

Not before.

“You’re not working tonight,” Matteo says.

“Why?”

“Because this ends now.”

I search his face. “How?”

He doesn’t answer.

Later, the city exhales again. Quiet. Final.

The calls stop. The notes disappear. The attention lifts like a fog burning off in sunlight.

I don’t ask what he did.

I don’t need to.

“You’re clear,” he says simply.

“For how long?” I ask.

“For as long as you stay where I can see you.”

The words should feel like a cage.

They don’t.

They feel like a line drawn in the dark —

and a warning to anyone who thinks I’m unclaimed territory.