The street was quiet, almost too quiet for a Friday night.
I should have known better. The city always whispered when it wanted to hide something, and tonight it had secrets.
I had no intention of being part of them. I was just walking home from work, headphones in, mind on my own little world. But life has a way of ignoring intentions.
A black car slid beside me, engine quiet. The window rolled down slowly. Two men in suits, faces like masks.
I froze.
"Clementine Vale," one of them said. His voice was calm, deliberate. Not a question. My heart slammed against my ribs. How did they know my name?
Before I could answer, the street behind me erupted in screams and shouting. A figure fell out of the alley—blood slick on the pavement. I blinked. Then I saw him.
Tall. Dark. Silent. His presence cut through the chaos like a blade. Alessio De Luca.
I had heard the whispers. The heir of one of the most dangerous mafia families in the city. Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable.
And somehow, right now, standing in front of me, he looked… calm. Like he owned the world, and everything in it, including me.
One of the men turned toward him, anger flashing for a moment, then… nothing. Alessio didn't move. He didn't even blink. Just a faint tilt of his head, and the man collapsed.
My legs nearly gave out.
Alessio's eyes found mine. Dark, sharp, assessing. Dangerous. Alive. The kind of look that makes you understand, in a single instant, that your life is no longer your own.
"You saw too much," he said softly. Not a threat. A fact.
I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. But the words stuck in my throat.
"I… I don't—"
"You will come with me," he said, stepping closer. The night air shifted around him, colder somehow, charged with danger.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I was already caught.
And in that instant, I knew something I couldn't explain: my life, the one I had carefully protected, was over.
The world I thought I controlled—was gone.