Lila Moreno had always believed that danger announced itself.She thought it came with warning signs—raised voices,speeding cars,the unmistakable crack of chaos before everything went wrong...Danger,she assumed,gave you time to run,she was wrong.
The night swallowed her quietly.
It began with a missed bus.
Lila stood at the empty stop,her backpack heavy on her shoulder,phone screen glowing weakly as the minutes ticked past midnight.The streetlights flickered above her,casting long shadows across the pavement,her neighborhood was usually loud even at night—music spilling from windows, laughter drifting down the block—but tonight felt different,too still,too watchful.
She checked her phone again...no signal.
"Great," she muttered under her breath.
Her mother had warned her not to stay late at the library....this city doesn't forgive mistakes,she'd said.Lila had rolled her eyes,promising she'd be careful at least she always was,she kept her head down,followed rules,avoided trouble.
But trouble didn't care about rules.
With a sigh,she adjusted her jacket and started walking,the shortcut through the warehouse district would get her home faster,even if it wasn't her favorite route.The buildings there were abandoned,skeletal structures looming like forgotten giants,she told herself it was fine....she'd walked it before and nthing had ever happened.
Her footsteps echoed too loudly as she turned into the narrow street.
That was when she heard it...Voices.
Low,controlled,not drunk,not playful—measured and deliberate,the kind of voices that didn't need to be loud to be obeyed.
Lila slowed instinctively,her body reacting before her mind did,she edged closer to the wall,heart beginning to thud in her chest.The air smelled faintly of oil and rain,meetal and something sharp she couldn't name.
She told herself to turn around but she didn't.
The alley opened up ahead,lit by a single overhead lamp that buzzed softly,black SUVs were parked in a neat line,engines idling.Men stood near them,dressed in dark clothing,their posture alert,purposeful....This wasn't a coincidence.
Lila froze.
Her breath caught as she took a step back,but her heel scraped against the pavement.
The sound was small,Insignificant,but it was enough.
One of the men turned his head slightly,not fully—just enough to show he'd heard something. Lila's pulse exploded in her ears,she ducked behind a dumpster,pressing herself against the cold metal,praying the darkness would swallow her whole.
She squeezed her eyes shut....Please leave,please leave...Footsteps approached slowly,unhurried.
Then a door opened Lila dared to look.
A man stepped forward from the largest SUV,and the world seemed to shift around him,he wasn't loud or aggressive,he didn't need to be power clung to him effortlessly,like a tailored suit.
Roman DeLuca.
She didn't know his name yet,but she would never forget his face.
Dark hair,neatly styled.,a sharp jawline set in calm authority,His eyes—cold, assessing—swept the alley in a single glance.When he spoke,the men around him straightened instantly.
"Finish it," he said.
Two words,no hesitation.
The exchange happened quickly after that—too quickly for her mind to fully process.Abrief argument a flash of fear in another man's eyes. The sound of something heavy hitting the ground.
Lila clamped a hand over her mouth.
Her heart pounded so hard she was sure they could hear it.
She didn't understand the details, but she understood the truth: she was witnessing something she was never meant to see.
Roman turned slightly, his gaze lifting.
And then—
Their eyes met.
Time fractured.
Lila's breath hitched as his stare locked onto her hiding place. It wasn't surprise she saw in his expression. It was calculation. Recognition. The instant understanding that something had gone wrong.
He knew.
She scrambled backward, panic surging through her veins. The dumpster rattled softly as she moved, and that was all it took.
Roman raised a hand.
The alley went silent.
"Stay here," he told the others, his voice dangerously calm.
He walked toward her.
Every instinct screamed at Lila to run, but her legs felt rooted to the ground. Her mind raced, searching desperately for escape routes, excuses, lies—anything.
Roman stopped a few feet away.
"Come out," he said.
It wasn't a command shouted in anger. It was worse than that. It was certain.
Slowly, shaking, Lila stepped into the light.
She expected him to look angry.
He didn't.
He studied her the way one might examine a problem—detached, precise, unreadable.
"How long?" he asked.
"I—I just got here," she said quickly. Her voice trembled despite her effort to steady it. "I didn't see anything. I swear."
Roman tilted his head slightly. His gaze flicked to her backpack, her trembling hands, her wide eyes.
"You're lying," he said calmly.
Tears burned behind her eyes, but she forced herself to meet his stare. "Please," she whispered. "I just want to go home."
For a moment, something flickered across his expression. Not softness—something more dangerous. Curiosity.
"Name," he said.
"Lila."
"Last name?"
She hesitated. Then gave it.
Roman nodded once, as if filing it away.
"You shouldn't walk alone at night," he said.
The words sounded almost normal. Almost kind.
Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"And you shouldn't be in places that don't belong to you."
Fear coiled tightly in her chest. "Are you going to—" Her voice broke. She couldn't finish the sentence.
Roman straightened.
"No," he said after a beat. "Not tonight."
Relief hit her so fast it made her dizzy.
"But," he continued, "you don't get to forget this."
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the street.
"Go home, Lila Moreno."
She didn't wait for permission twice.
Lila ran.
She didn't stop until her lungs burned and her apartment building came into view. She fumbled with her keys, hands shaking so badly she dropped them twice before finally getting the door open.
Inside, she collapsed against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor.
Her body shook violently now, the adrenaline crashing all at once. She pressed her fists to her mouth, stifling a sob.
She was alive.
But she knew—deep in her bones—that survival came with a cost.
Somewhere across the city, Roman DeLuca stood beneath flickering lights, watching the street where she'd disappeared.
He didn't believe in coincidences.
And witnesses?
They never stayed accidental for long