PROLOGUE
I’ve never believed in omens. However, right now, staring out of the grimy windshield, the sky bleeds red over Bucharest, and even I can’t ignore the way it looks like heaven soaked in blood.
I sit alone in the front of a shitty basic rental car, my laptop open, signal bouncing through three proxies. The last message my hacker sent is still on-screen.
Seems like we’re not the only ones looking.
I’ve been parked near the warehouse that isn’t on any map, running recon for hours. On paper, it’s a shipping depot. But we’re betting the real Blood Vault is beneath it, an underground labyrinth holding dark secrets that could make governments crumble…and men like me disappear into dust.
I light a cigarette and keep the engine cold, scanning the side alley for the third time in ten minutes. The front entrance is locked down with armed guards. Motion-triggered drones circle overhead. No one's getting in, or out, without setting off alarms.
Except for the food truck. It showed up half an hour ago, unloaded fast, and rolled out like it was on a schedule.
Which is why it makes no fucking sense when a dark figure slips past all of it, seemingly trained to be a sneaky fucking ghost. I sit up straighter and watch through the haze of smoke around me.
Oh, this will be fun. That fucker won’t get far. I give them two seconds before they’re surrounded, and depending on the threat, they’ll likely get a bullet to the skull.
I’d guess it’s a woman but it's hard to tell under all that gear. However, the slim build, the gait, the braid creeping down her spine over that tactical vest tells me she isn't an innocent who’s lost her way.
My brows snap together when the drones don’t react and the guards don’t turn. She moves through the blind spots like she knows where they all are.
Either she’s ex-military black ops or something far fucking worse.
While she pauses by a steel door and taps something on a handheld device, I zoom in on her face, snap a photo, and run it through facial recognition on my laptop.
The image sharpens just enough to make out her feminine features.
And fuck me, she’s stunning.
Not in a staged, high-maintenance way either. No. This woman is naturally beautiful with high cheekbones, a cute nose, and full pouty lips set in a no-nonsense line. Her pale complexion is smooth and makeup free, lit faintly by the glow of her device.
Part of me wishes I could see the color of her eyes. I tell myself it's just to read her better. To figure out if she’s calm, focused, assassin cold, or panicking.
But the truth is, I’m a little fucking dumbstruck by how pretty she is.
The facial recognition scan pings back with zero matches.
There’s nothing in any system I have access to. And I have access to all of them.
“Who the fuck are you?” I mutter to myself while taking a sip of cold black coffee.
As soon as she’s out of sight, I shoot my hacker a message, asking him if he knows anything more but his connection has dropped off. Fucking typical.
When she slips inside, the steel door seals behind her and shit starts to happen.
One of the high flight drones changes direction, veering toward the loading bay like it received new orders. On my laptop, the data feed I’ve been watching explodes as encrypted files pour out of the main server. That’s not normal traffic. That’s a fucking breach.
And in the corner of my secondary feed, a maintenance display I hacked hours ago blinks to life with a digital countdown: 03:00… 02:59… 02:58…
Jesus fuck, she’s purging the intel.
My gut turns to stone.
She’s seconds away from wiping everything—or stealing it. And if even one byte of that data ties back to my family, she won’t get the chance to walk away breathing.
I open my mic and speak to the team back in the hotel. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Define problem,” Reign’s voice answers in my ear.
“Unknown female. Tactical. Just entered the warehouse alone. No insignia. No backup. She knew the codes and she’s hacked into the system from the inside.”
“Maybe she’s with the Tribunal?” he asks.
“Don’t think so. Looks like she’s pulling data. I’ve got a feed showing a data hemorrhage. And Reign—” I glance at the corner of my laptop. “There’s a countdown. Two minutes until it’s all in her hands.”
There’s a pause.
“Kingston wants us back stateside,” Reign adds. “Mission over, Bronx. We’ll gather a full team for the job. We’ll bounce back in a week when we’re better equipped to make a move.”
“Yeah.” I flick ash out the cracked window, thinking it through. “We need to know who she is or who sent her. She’s either on our side or needs to be eliminated.”
“Nah, Bronx, pull out.”
The warehouse lights flicker once, then stabilize.
In my mind, I picture Reign lying face down in his own blood while the Tribunal calls it business, Kingston behind bars for treason he didn’t commit.
“Tell K I’ll be at his place in Manhattan for drinks tomorrow.”
I twist the key in the ignition, engine rumbling low beneath me. Just as I shift into gear, Kingston’s voice cuts in over comms.
"Bronx. What the fuck are you doing?" Kingston’s voice comes through, stern and pissed.
01:46…
I keep my eyes on the warehouse. “She got inside like she’d built the damn security system herself. As of now, she’s a threat to us.”
“You’re to stand down. Right now.”
“K—”
“Not negotiable. I’m organizing a team as we speak. They’ll be there in five hours. We’ll have a counter-intrusion running inside in a few minutes to jam the leak.” I hear keys clacking in the background, muffled voices barking orders. “You wait for the team. You don’t move alone.”
“She’ll be long gone in five hours,” I growl.
01:38…
“We track her. Use her to find the rest of whoever the fuck she works for.”
“Not if she wipes our leverage in the next hundred seconds and disappears."
01:31…
“Bronx—” That warning edge is back. “We do this my way, or we risk losing more than data. You go in solo, you trigger a fail-safe, maybe set off whatever explosives they’ve rigged to cover their tracks.”
I exhale smoke, pulse steady. “This is personal now… We can’t let anyone get their—”
“I’m ordering you to wait. That’s final.”
01:23…
I grip the wheel tighter. “It’s too late. She’s downloading everything and wiping evidence. I’m not waiting while someone sells out our bloodline.”
Kingston’s sigh cuts through the line. “I get it. But you’re acting on instinct, not strategy.”
“Instinct’s what’s kept me alive this long.”
01:15…
“Bronx, I’m ordering you to stand down until the team arrives.”
I let that hang in the air, watching the numbers bleed down. “If protecting our family means breaking orders, then consider them broken. I’ll find out who she is and do what’s necessary. You can count on me, Kingston. Like always.”
01:09…
“Don’t do this.”
“I already did.”
I kill the comms, throw open the car door, and step into the night. The blood-red sky turns the warehouse into a silhouette of war. I pull the ski mask down, gun in hand.
By the time this is over… she’ll be on her knees and bleeding answers into my hands.
Continue reading The Mafia Marriage Heist and meet the next Blood Debt Bride.