Salvatore paced back and forth in his opulent living room, the soles of his leather shoes brushing against the Persian carpet in endless repetition. The amber light of the chandelier above him gleamed off the gold trim of the whiskey tumbler sitting untouched on the coffee table. He was restless. Anxious. Frustrated.
Lorenzo had given him a task that was damn near impossible.
Rose was living under Nikolai's roof, a fortress guarded tighter than a military base. Cameras. Armed men. Eyes everywhere. Worse, the only person she was truly friends with was Alejandro—the one man who hated Salvatore's guts more than anyone else on earth. There was no way in hell he could just walk up to Alejandro and suggest a "day out" for Rose. Alejandro would either laugh in his face or break his jaw.
Salvatore groaned and raked a hand through his hair.
"What the hell am I supposed to do?" he muttered to himself, flopping onto the black velvet couch. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His leg bounced rapidly, a tell-tale sign of his nerves, betraying the mask of control he always wore in public.
He stood up again, pacing.
The silence in the room was deafening, and his thoughts echoed like thunder.
Alejandro would never trust him. Rose probably hated him by now too. And approaching either of them directly was out of the question. There had to be a way… a loophole. A situation that wouldn't look suspicious. A place where people wouldn't raise questions if someone just… disappeared.
His eyes wandered restlessly across the room. And then—his gaze landed on something.
A framed photo on the dark oak side table.
He walked over and picked it up.
It was a picture. Faded around the edges, taken during last year's Halloween carnival. Rose was smiling, her face painted with glittering cobwebs. Alejandro stood beside her, his arm draped protectively over her shoulders. They were surrounded by masks, glowing lanterns, and the vibrant chaos of the festival.
Memories flickered through Salvatore's mind—Rose laughing in the distance, Alejandro's idiotic friends teaching her how to cheat at ring toss and card games, the way she clung to her candied apple like it was the rarest treasure in the world.
Salvatore blinked slowly.
And then his brow lifted.
That's it.
The idea slammed into him like a freight train.
He didn't have to convince Alejandro. Hell, he didn't even have to talk to him.
He just had to create the perfect setting.
No one would question a Halloween carnival. Especially not one that Rose had attended every single year without fail. What if it came early this year? A special "Pre-Halloween Festival" for the city's elite? Rose would hear about it. She would go. Alejandro wouldn't say no—it was tradition.
It would be crowded. Chaotic. Filled with masks and shadows.
A perfect storm for someone to vanish in.
He smiled, sharp and cold.
"All I need now… is a little cooperation."
---
Two hours later, Salvatore's sleek black Maserati rolled through the rusting gates of an industrial warehouse on the outskirts of town. The evening sun dipped below the skyline, casting orange light across the peeling metal walls and graffiti-tagged shipping containers.
This was where Marius Leone ran his business.
Marius, the infamous owner and operator of the city's most spectacular carnivals and underground masquerade events. A man with a flair for theatrics and a reputation that reeked of secrecy.
Salvatore stepped out, adjusting the collar of his designer coat. His presence turned heads—two guards near the loading dock stiffened at the sight of him and wordlessly opened the side door.
He stepped into the dim warehouse. The air smelled of sawdust, paint, and engine oil. Carnival equipment lay scattered across the vast space—disassembled rides, boxes of masks, animatronic creatures half-wrapped in tarps.
Marius was waiting for him.
The man was in his fifties, balding at the top, but still sharp-eyed and lean. He wore a red scarf, sunglasses despite the darkness, and had the aura of someone who spent his life walking the edge of legality.
"Salvatore," Marius greeted with a lazy smile. "What brings the devil to my humble domain?"
"I need a favor," Salvatore said bluntly.
Marius chuckled. "Everyone needs a favor. Some need magic tricks. Others need disappearing acts."
"I need both."
Marius arched a brow. "Interesting. But the Halloween Carnival is still two and a half months away. We're prepping for it as we speak. Don't tell me you want an early ticket?"
"I want you to throw the carnival early," Salvatore said. "In two weeks."
Marius laughed, then stopped when he saw Salvatore's face. "You're serious?"
"Very."
"You want me to organize a massive city-wide event in two weeks?" he scoffed. "The permits, the marketing, the performers, the—"
"You'll be compensated," Salvatore said smoothly, pulling a folded check from his coat pocket and placing it on the nearby table.
Marius unfolded it.
His eyes bulged.
Ten million dollars.
"You're crazy."
"Ten million reasons to agree. I want one girl to disappear in that festival."
Marius swallowed, shaking his head. "Even for this much, I have to ask: Why? Why the hell would I move an entire carnival forward just so some girl can get lost?"
Salvatore's smile faded.
"Because I know what you've been doing at your events."
The words dropped like stones into the room.
Marius stiffened.
Salvatore stepped forward, voice low. "I know about the missing girls. The ones you sell to private buyers under the cover of lights and masks. The families who never find them. The police reports that magically disappear. I know every detail."
Marius went pale. His bravado evaporated instantly. "You… you can't prove anything."
"I don't need to," Salvatore replied. "All I need is to speak. One word in the right ear, and your entire carnival empire goes up in flames. Every secret you've buried… will rise."
Silence.
Then—
"What do you want?" Marius asked tightly.
Salvatore leaned in. "Throw the carnival. Two weeks. Go public by tomorrow morning—say it's a Special Pre-Halloween Experience. Use your usual locations. Make it grand. Make it irresistible."
"And the girl?"
"Her name is Rose Woods," Salvatore said. "She'll be there. I want your people on the inside. Masked performers. Dancers. Clowns. Doesn't matter. When she arrives, find a way to separate her from the boy she's with. Create a distraction. A blackout, a firework malfunction, a staged panic. Whatever it takes. Just make sure she's alone. Then you walk away. My people will handle the rest."
Marius exhaled slowly, rubbing his jaw.
"And if I say no?"
Salvatore didn't blink.
"Then I start making calls. And your carnival will be the biggest crime scene the city's ever seen."
A long pause.
Then Marius reached for the check.
"Two weeks," he said.
"Good man," Salvatore murmured.
---
That night, back in his mansion,Salvatore stood by the window overlooking the glittering skyline. A storm was rolling in. Lightning cracked in the distance, illuminating the city below.
He held a second glass of whiskey in hand now—this time, it wasn't untouched.
He sipped slowly, letting the fire burn down his throat.
The trap was set.
Soon, Rose Woods would be right where he needed her.
She wouldn't escape.