POV: Emilia Conti
The darkness felt thick. Not just the absence of light, but the presence of something else—intent.
My breath came shallow as I forced myself to stay still. Every instinct screamed to move, to run, to do something, but I knew better. Sudden motion got people killed. I'd seen it too many times on operating tables, the panic that made wounds worse instead of better.
"Who are you?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
The answer didn't come right away. Somewhere to my left, a footstep shifted. Slow. Unhurried. Whoever stood in the dark wasn't afraid.
"That's not important," the man replied. His voice was calm, almost conversational. "What matters is that you listen."
A hand brushed my arm.
I flinched despite myself.
"Don't touch me," I said.
He chuckled softly. "See? You're already learning."
Before I could react, another presence moved beside me—solid, familiar. Alessio. I hadn't heard him approach, but I could feel him there, tension coiled tight beneath the stillness.
"You've made your point," Alessio said evenly. "Leave."
A beat of silence.
"I don't think so," the man replied. "Not yet."
The lights snapped back on.
I blinked against the sudden brightness, heart slamming as my eyes adjusted. The man stood several feet away, hands empty, posture relaxed. Mid-thirties, maybe. Well dressed. Too ordinary for the threat he represented.
Two guards lay slumped on the floor behind him.
Alive, I realized with a jolt. Breathing.
Sedated.
"You breached a secured floor," Alessio said. "That took planning."
The man smiled. "It took access."
My stomach tightened.
"You wanted to be seen," I said quietly.
His gaze slid to me. Sharp. Assessing. "I wanted you to understand."
"Understand what?" I asked.
"That your protection has limits."
Alessio shifted slightly, placing himself between us without looking back. "You're testing the wrong boundary."
"No," the man replied. "I'm testing the right one."
He reached into his jacket slowly. Every guard tensed.
He pulled out a phone.
"This," he continued, holding it up, "is leverage."
He tapped the screen, then turned it toward me.
Images filled the display.
My apartment building. The front entrance. The street corner where I bought coffee every morning.
Then my car.
My throat closed.
"You've been busy," Alessio said coldly.
"Efficient," the man corrected. "We prefer efficiency."
I took a step forward before I could stop myself. "What do you want?"
The man's smile widened. "You."
Alessio's response was immediate. "No."
"That wasn't directed at you," the man said lightly. "You're incidental."
My pulse roared in my ears. "If you think I'm bargaining currency—"
"You already are," he interrupted. "You just didn't set the price."
Alessio's hand moved subtly. A warning. A promise.
The man noticed—and raised his hands slightly in mock surrender. "Relax. I'm not here to collect."
"Then why are you here?" I demanded.
"To renegotiate," he said. "Your presence has changed the board."
I swallowed. "How?"
"By forcing visibility," he replied. "You've made him predictable."
Alessio laughed softly. "You don't know me."
"Oh, I do," the man said. "You don't like uncertainty. You close ranks. You protect publicly. That puts you under pressure."
I felt a twist of guilt, sharp and unwelcome.
The man turned fully toward me. "And you, Doctor—you don't belong in this world."
"No," I agreed. "I don't."
"But you're adaptable," he continued. "You assess. You stabilize. You intervene."
My stomach dropped. "You've been watching me."
"Since the operating room," he said. "You chose to save a man you didn't understand."
"That's my job."
"And now," he added, "it's your problem."
Alessio took a step forward. "You're done."
The man's smile faded just slightly. "You don't get to decide that."
Before anyone could react, he moved.
Not toward me.
Toward the control panel.
The screens flared back to life behind us—feeds from multiple floors lighting up at once.
"Your lockdown is impressive," he said calmly. "But it's not airtight."
On one screen, a figure appeared in the garage. Another in the lobby. Another near the service stairs.
My heart stuttered. "There's more than one of you."
"Of course," he replied. "Did you think I'd come alone?"
Alessio's jaw tightened. "You won't get out."
The man shrugged. "I don't need to."
He turned to me one last time. "This was a courtesy visit."
"A threat," I said.
"An introduction," he corrected. "We wanted you to know the cost of staying."
"And if I leave?" I asked.
His gaze sharpened. "Then we stop knocking."
The room went quiet.
Alessio spoke without looking at me. "You're not leaving."
The man smiled again. "That's between the two of you."
He stepped back, raising his hands slowly.
Alarms blared suddenly—loud, piercing. The guards surged forward.
In the chaos, the man leaned closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
"Everyone bleeds, Doctor," he said. "Some of us just decide when."
Then he was gone—swallowed by motion, confusion, noise.
Minutes later, the building was secured again. Screens cleared. Guards repositioned. The world reasserted its order like it hadn't almost shattered.
I stood frozen, chest tight, hands shaking now that the danger had passed.
Alessio turned to me slowly.
"You shouldn't have heard that," he said.
"I should have," I replied hoarsely. "You don't get to decide this alone anymore."
His gaze searched my face. "This isn't your fight."
"It became my fight the moment he said my name."
Silence stretched between us.
"You heard him," I continued. "They'll stop if I leave."
"They're lying."
"Or you are," I snapped.
He stiffened. "I don't lie to you."
"You withhold," I said. "There's a difference."
His expression darkened. "You don't understand what you're asking."
"Then explain it," I said. "All of it."
A long pause.
Finally, he spoke. "If you leave, they won't stop. They'll follow. And when they can't reach me, they'll hurt you to make a point."
I swallowed. "So I'm trapped."
"No," he said quietly. "You're targeted."
The word hit harder than captivity ever had.
"And your solution," I asked, "is to keep me here."
"Yes."
"Because you can protect me."
"I can try."
I let out a shaky breath. "That's not enough."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "It has to be."
I looked at him then—not the power, not the control—but the strain beneath it. The cost.
"They won't stop," I said slowly. "Not now."
"No," he agreed.
"And I can't disappear quietly anymore."
"No."
I straightened, forcing my spine to lock into place. "Then I need to know everything."
His eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because if I'm the price," I said, "I want to know what I'm being bought for."
He studied me for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
"Very well," he said. "But understand this—once you know, there's no going back."
I met his gaze without flinching.
"I already crossed that line."