Kanyan (Gatti Enforcers #1)

5. Lula

5

LULA

T he night air clings to my skin, heavy and damp, as I step farther into the alley. My heels echo against the uneven pavement, each click bouncing off the walls of the buildings hemming me in. The faint buzz of the hotel fades into the background, replaced by the low hum of the city at night—a distant siren, the faint shuffle of footsteps somewhere out of sight.

I shouldn’t be out here. My pulse flutters with unease, but the stifling ballroom with its glittering chandeliers and murmured conversations was worse. Inside, I could feel him—Derin—lurking like a storm cloud, his presence pressing on my chest until I couldn’t breathe.

The thrill of the tightrope performance still lingers, like electricity under my skin, but it’s muted now, overshadowed by the suffocating weight of his shadow. Of all the places, he found me here. Again. The thought cuts through me, sharper than the cool breeze threading its way through the alley.

I glance down at my feet, where the thin strap of one shoe has twisted. The absurdity of it makes me huff out a bitter laugh. All the things I should be worried about—my job, my future, my safety—and here I am, focused on a shoe strap. Maybe it’s easier to think about the little things than the bigger picture. Maybe it’s easier to pretend I don’t already know how this ends.

It ends with me running. Again.

The word pounds through my skull, the same mantra it’s always been. I should leave before he tightens his grip. Before he makes good on the promises he’s hinted at and the threats he’s whispered. I should run. But this gig pays too well. Too well to walk away without a fight—though the truth stings: I don’t know if I have any fight left in me.

A shuffle of footsteps breaks through my thoughts. I freeze, my body going rigid. At first, I think I’m imagining it, but then I hear it again, closer this time. The alley is too dark, the sparse lighting casting long, deceptive shadows. My heart drums against my ribs, and instinctively, I take a step back toward the hotel.

But it’s too late.

“Lula,” a voice rasps, slithering out of the darkness. My stomach twists, my breath hitching. Derin steps into the dim light, his features as familiar as they are terrifying. His lips curl into a mockery of a smile, but his eyes are cold, dangerous.

“You think you can keep hiding?” he says, his voice low but sharp enough to cut. “You think this ends any way other than what I’ve planned for you?”

“I’m not hiding,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel. I square my shoulders, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I’m working. Leave me alone.”

He laughs—a dry, humorless sound that echoes down the alley. “Leave you alone? After everything your father promised me?” He steps closer, and I step back, my pulse hammering. “You’re mine, Lula. You’ve always been mine.”

“He paid you back!” I hiss. “What right do you have to me?”

Before I can respond, he lunges, his hand snatching my wrist in a grip that burns. I try to yank free, but he’s stronger, his fingers digging into my skin like iron claws. “You don’t get to run from me,” he snarls, his face inches from mine. “Not anymore. This is the last time I let you get away from me.”

Panic floods me, my free hand clawing at his arm, but it’s useless. He drags me closer, his grip unyielding, his eyes wild. I want to scream, but the air seems stuck in my throat.

“Not you again,” someone groans.

The voice slices through the night, his tone somewhat bored, and for a moment, everything stops. Derin turns, his grip loosening just enough for me to jerk free and stumble back. Standing at the mouth of the alley is the man from last night—the one who saved me. His broad frame is shadowed against the streetlights, but his presence is undeniable, radiating a quiet menace that even Derin seems to feel as the man steps forward with slow, measured steps.

“She’s outside the hotel,” Derin spits, his posture stiffening. “So this doesn’t concern you.”

“Everything in this city concerns me,” the man replies, stepping forward. His voice is calm, almost casual, but there’s an edge to it, like he could strike at any moment. “The hotel, the city…everything here concerns me. Hell,” he scoffs, “You can’t even take a piss here in this alley without my permission.”

Derin snorts, but it’s forced, his bravado slipping. “You need to stay out of this.”

“No,” the man says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You need to stay out of this city. Go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under and lay there quietly. Make everyone happy.”

Derin’s jaw tightens, working side to side as if he’s weighing his options. But he doesn’t get the chance to act. In an instant, the man steps forward, faster than I can process, and slams Derin against the wall. The impact is brutal—Derin’s face crunches audibly as it meets the brick, and blood spurts from his nose, painting the ground in crimson.

The man holds him there effortlessly, one hand gripping the back of Derin’s shirt like he’s nothing more than a rag doll.

I let out a sharp gasp, my hands flying to my mouth as the scene unfolds. Derin groans, his face twisted in pain, but his eyes dart to me, searching for something—sympathy? Help? I don’t know.

The man, on the other hand, doesn’t even flinch. His gaze flickers to mine, dark and unyielding, before shifting back to Derin. There’s no hesitation in his movements, no sign of regret. It’s as if he’s done this a thousand times before and will do it a thousand times again.

“You come near her again, and you’ll be leaving this city in a body bag.”

Derin struggles, but it’s no use. When the man releases him, he crumples to the ground, clutching his side and coughing. He tries to push himself up, but the man’s boot lands squarely on his chest, forcing him back down. “Stay down,” he says, his voice quieter now, deadlier. “And stay gone.”

Derin mutters something in Albanian, a curse, no doubt. My stomach tightens as the man finally steps back, his gaze flicking to me. He doesn’t say anything at first, just studies me with those sharp, unreadable eyes.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks, his voice softer than I expect.

I shake my head, though my hands are trembling. “Thank you,” I manage, stepping closer, though every instinct screams at me to keep my distance. “But you shouldn’t have done that.”

His brow furrows. “He attacked you. He’s lucky I didn’t do worse.”

I shake my head again, forcing the words out even as my throat tightens. “You don’t understand. Men like Derin...they don’t stop. They don’t forgive. If you hurt him, he’ll come back twice as angry. He won’t just go after me—he’ll go after anyone standing in his way. Including you.”

The man doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink. “Let him try.”

The weight of his confidence is almost unbearable. Doesn’t he see the danger? The inevitability of it? “Please,” I say, my voice cracking. “Just stay out of this. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“I know exactly what men like him are capable of,” the man says, his steady tone edged with something darker. “And I know how to handle them.”

His words hit me harder than they should. For years, I’ve fought to keep people at arm’s length, to protect them from the chaos that follows me like a curse. And yet, here he is, a stranger willing to stand between me and the storm.

For a moment, the air between us is electric, charged with unspoken things. I take a step back, shaking my head. “You don’t even know me,” I say, desperate now. “You think you’re helping, but you’re just putting yourself in his crosshairs. I can’t have that. I can’t have anyone else hurt because of me.”

“What does he want from you?” the man asks.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters enough for him to come back here night after night to harass you,” he points out.

“You don’t get it,” I say, my voice breaking. “Derin doesn’t just ruin lives—he ends them. My father...” I stop, swallowing hard. “He’s dead because of Derin. He wouldn’t let him go. He wouldn’t let me go. And if you keep this up, you’ll be next.”

The man steps closer, his presence overwhelming but not unwelcome. “I’m not your father,” he says quietly.

I search his face, looking for doubt, for hesitation, but there is none. Just quiet resolve. It should comfort me. But instead, it terrifies me.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“Not tonight,” he says simply. Then he turns, leaving Derin groaning in the dirt.

I watch him walk away, his shoulders broad and unyielding, and feel a pang of something I can’t name. Gratitude. Fear. Something heavier.

But as much as I want to believe him, I know better. Men don’t walk away unscathed from Derin’s wrath. And I don’t know if I can survive being the reason that more people forfeit their lives.