BLOOD IN THE ALLEY

ELENA'S POV

I stood on the sidewalk outside the penthouse building, staring at my phone like it held answers to questions I didn't know how to ask.

Seven missed calls. All from the same unknown number. I deleted them without listening to the voicemails. Whatever they wanted, I couldn't handle it. Not today.

I just needed to get back home, take a bathe and start looking for a job.

My reflection stared back at me from a shop window as I walked—disheveled hair, yesterday's makeup smudged under my eyes… and my clothes, they smelled like him.

What the hell had I done?

I'd slept with a stranger. A man whose name I didn't even know. A man who'd knocked someone unconscious with a helmet and then taken me to his penthouse like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And I'd let him.

God, I'd more than let him. I'd begged him to kiss me. I'd wrapped myself around him like he was the only thing keeping me from drowning.

My chest tightened. The memory of David's face swam before my eyes again… his cold expression as he told me he couldn't settle for me.

I looked at the sky. “Could this get any worse?”

The tears came without warning. I ducked into an alley, pressing my back against the brick wall, trying to breathe through the pain crushing my chest. It hurt. God, it hurt so much I could barely stand.

I'd lost everything in one night. My job. My fiancé. My dignity.

And then I'd compounded it by sleeping with a stranger.

A car engine cut through my thoughts.

I looked up, wiping my eyes quickly. A black sedan had pulled up at the mouth of the alley, the windows were tinted so dark I couldn't see inside.

I walked towards it, to slip beside it and be on my way.

The doors opened. Three men stepped out, their eyes trained on me.

They were large men.

The one in front had a scar running from his eyebrow to his jaw.

"Elena Marshall?" The one with scar asked, his voice was rough, like gravel grinding together.

I took a step back. “I… I…I,” I stuttered unable to form a sentence because of the way they were sizing me up.

I could be killed in this alley and they would shove me at the back of that car and no one would know that I was gone. And how did they know my name? How did they know me.

"Wrong answer." He started walking toward me, the other two following.

I turned to run but there was nowhere to go. The alley was a dead end, high walls on either side, dumpsters blocking any chance of climbing out. My heart slammed against my ribs as I backed up until my spine hit brick.

They kept coming.

"Where is he?” scar face demanded.

"Where is who?" My voice came out high, thin with panic. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"David Chen. Your fiancé." He stopped right in front of me and I could smell the smoke in his breath as he breathed down my face. "Where the fuck is he?"

"I… I don't know. We broke up. Last night. I don't know where he is." I tried to step away from him but I couldn't.

The man on the left laughed, cold and empty. "She don't know. You hear that, Tony? She don't know."

Tony grabbed my arm and shoved me against the wall. Pain exploded in my shoulder. "Let me make this real simple for you, sweetheart. Your boyfriend owes some very dangerous people a lot of money. Money he borrowed. Money he guaranteed with your name."

"What?" The word barely made it past my lips. "No. No, I never…"

"You signed papers. Your signature. Your ID." His grip tightened until I gasped. "So either you tell us where David is, or you pay what he owes."

"I don't have any money! I just got fired! I didn't sign anything, I…"

He pushed me from the wall, deeper into the alley. I stumbled, my knees hitting the concrete. Sharp pain shot through my palms as I caught myself. One of the other men grabbed my hair, yanking my head back.

"Wrong answer," he growled.

"Please," I sobbed. "Please, I don't know anything. I didn't sign anything. David… I don't know… please, you have to believe me."

"Doesn't matter if you signed it or he did." Tony crouched in front of me. "Your name's on the papers. That makes you responsible. So you got two choices. Tell us where David is, or start paying."

"I don't know where he is! I saw him last night with another woman and…"

The slap rattled my teeth. Blood filled my mouth.

"Lying bitch," the one holding my hair snarled.

Tony stood, reached inside his jacket, and pulled out a gun.

Everything slowed down when he pointed at me.

"Last chance," he said, pointing it at my face. "Where. Is. David."

I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Could only stare at that black hole at the end of the barrel and think, that I was going to die in an alley.

"I said…"

The gunshot was so loud I screamed, and laid flat on the ground, waiting for death.

But I wasn't hit. I lifted my eyes just in time to see Tony staggered sideways, blood soaking on his legs. He howled, the gun clattering from his hand as he went down.

A man stepped out of the shadows at the alley's entrance. He was Tall, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, dark hair slicked back, and a gun in his hand. His eyes were ice-cold and utterly calm.

“Tony,” he called and crouched in front of Tony. “I hate seeing in this position.”

The man holding my hair released me immediately. I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, my palm screaming where glass had cut it earlier.

"Dante Moretti," the third man breathed, and I heard genuine fear in his voice.

The man smiled.

"You know who I am," he said pleasantly. "Then you know what happens next."

They ran.

Tony, despite his bleeding leg, lurched to his feet and stumbled after the other two. They threw themselves into the car.

“You would regret this, you and that bitch!!!” Tony growled as the sped off.

Dante lowered his gun, tucked it back inside his jacket, and turned to look at me.

I was shaking so hard I couldn't stand. Blood dripped from my palm. My whole body felt like it might fly apart.

"You're bleeding," he observed.

"I…" My voice broke. "Who are you?"

"Someone who just saved your life." He walked toward me slowly. "Can you stand?"

I tried. My legs gave out. He caught me before I hit the ground, one arm around my waist, steady and strong.

“What were you doing in an alley with men like that?”

"I don't understand." Tears streamed down my face. "I don't understand what's happening. What did they want? What papers? I never signed anything, I swear I…"

"Shh, I'd know,” he said.

“I need to go home,” I replied.

“No, you can't, they would know your house, and you'd be dead by evening,” he whispered. “You're coming with me.”

We reached his car and a huge man was standing in front of the car. When the man saw us, he opened the door for me.

“I can't follow you,” I said again. “How do I know you're not one of them?”

“You don't,” he replied and shoved his hands in his pocket as I leaned in the car.

Saved by two strangers in a space of twenty four hours, strangers that were madly rich and wanted me to come to their house.

I didn't know why I believed him. Maybe because he'd just shot someone to protect me. Maybe because the alternative was collapsing in this alley and waiting for Tony and his friends to come back.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"My place. You need medical attention and answers. You'll get both."

"I don't even know you."

He glanced at me, and something flickered in those cold eyes.

"Dante Moretti," he said. "And you're Elena Marshall. Twenty-four years old. Worked at Viv's House Restaurant until last night. Lives alone in a studio apartment in Queens. Has a bastard ex-fiancé named David Chen who apparently sold you out to cover his own debts."

My blood ran cold. "How do you know all that?"

He didn't reply.

"What are you talking about? Who were those men?"

"Debt collectors for the Kozlov family. Russian organized crime. Your ex-fiancé borrowed two hundred thousand dollars from them six months ago. He put your name down as guarantor." Dante's jaw tightened. "They came to collect."

Two hundred thousand dollars. The number was so absurd I almost laughed.

"That's impossible,” I laughed. “David wouldn't…"

“Cheat on you?” He asked and I fell silent.

I didn't even know David.

"Why?" The question burst out of me. "Why would you help me? You don't know me. I'm nobody. I'm—"

"You're not nobody." His voice was sharp, almost angry. "Don't ever say that again."

I stared at him. At his profile, strong jaw, straight nose,

"Who are you really?" I whispered.

We pulled into an underground garage. Parked in a spot marked RESERVED – Dante. Killed the engine.

Then he turned to look at me, and the expression on his face made my breath catch.

"I'm the man who's going to keep you alive," Dante said softly. "Even if I have to burn down half the city to do it."

He got out of the car, came around to my side, opened the door. Helped me out like I was made of glass.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get you cleaned up. Then we'll talk."

I followed him to the elevator, my mind spinning. Less than 48 hours ago, my biggest problems were an aching back and helping David achieve his dreams.

Now I'd lost my job, my fiancé, slept with a stranger, and apparently had Russian mobsters hunting me for a debt I didn't even know existed.

And I was following another stranger, this one who shot people without hesitation, up to his house because I had literally nowhere else to go?

The elevator doors closed. Dante pressed the button for the top floor. In the mirrored walls, I caught our reflection—me looking like I'd been dragged through hell, him looking like sin in an expensive suit.

"Elena," he said quietly, not looking at me. "There's something you should know."

"What?"

The elevator climbed higher. His reflection's eyes met mine in the mirror.

"Those men aren't going to stop. The Kozlovs don't forgive debts. They'll come for you again, and next time they won't ask questions first." He turned to face me. "You can't go back to your apartment. You can't go back to your life. Everything you knew is over."

"What are you saying?"

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open to reveal a hallway with a single door at the end.

"I'm saying you belong to me now," Dante said. And the way he said it—like it was already decided, like I had no choice, like some part of him had already claimed me—sent a shiver down my spine that was equal parts fear and something I didn't want to examine.

"You're going to stay here. Under my protection. Until I figure out how to fix this."

"I can't just—"

"You can. You will." He stepped out of the elevator, held his hand out to me. "Because the alternative is dying in an alley when they find you again."