CHAPTER SEVEN
Marco
One Hour Before
I STRIDE DOWN the dimly lit alley, each step heavy with the weight of my thoughts. The safe house was supposed to be impenetrable. How did they find us? It had to be someone on the inside. The realization gnaws at me, making my stomach churn. Betrayal always leaves a bitter taste.
I finally reach the pub, the neon lights flickering above the door like a bad omen. Pushing the door open, I step inside. The familiar scent of stale beer and smoke hits me. Baz is still at the bar, his hulking figure slouched over a pint. He doesn't notice me at first, his attention absorbed by something on his phone.
As I walk over, I see the phone light up. Sasha’s name flashes on the screen. Before Baz can react, I snatch the phone up and swipe to answer.
"Hello?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Marco? Where’s Baz?” Her words are rushed, and I don’t get to answer; like, how the fuck does she have Baz’s number?. “They…they hurt my dad. They said I have to get Lily back, or they’ll kill him. I don’t know what to do. Please, help me.”
My chest tightens hearing her cry. The protectiveness surges through me, overwhelming and fierce. "Where are you?"
“I’m on our driveway,” shesobs.
“Stay there,” I order and end the call.
I hang up and turn to Baz, who’s watching me with a raised eyebrow. “Sasha’s in trouble,” I say, handing the phone back to Baz.
I turn to Lucas, who’s standing behind me, a smirk playing at the corner of my lips. "Do you want to hurt some people?" I ask, feeling the adrenaline start to pump through my veins.
Lucas grins back, eyes gleaming. "Always. I'm in the mood for knocking some teeth out.”
I quickly call two more of my men, instructing them to meet us outside. Baz looks at me, clearly unhappy. “You stay put, Baz,” I say firmly. “This isn’t your fight tonight.”
He scowls but doesn’t argue. He knows better. I head to my car, the engine roaring to life as I pull out of the lot. Lucas follows in his own car, with the other two men falling into line behind us. The city streets blur past, my mind racing.
We arrive at Sasha’s drive, the darkness cloaking us. I see her standing there, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling.
After she gives us details about how many men are in the house, I lead her to my car. “Wait in my car. It’s safe.”
She nods, her eyes wide with fear and relief, and I help her into the passenger seat. I glance back at Lucas and the others, giving them a nod. “No guns,” I say firmly. “We’re not turning this into a bloodbath. Our presence should be enough. But if it comes to it, we use our fists.”
We move silently down the lane, the night air cold and still. My mind is laser-focused. We reach the house, and I kick the door open, storming in. Dave and his men are there, and the sight of us makes them pale. Dave sees Lucas behind me and takes a step back like he’s seeing a ghost, but his gaze finally drifts to me.
“Marco,” Dave stammers, his bravado crumbling. “We didn’t know…”
I cut him off with a cold glare. “You didn’t know what?” I snap. “That I’d find out you’ve been terrorizing this family? You’re going to pay for this.”
My eyes fall on Sasha’s father, bleeding on the floor. The sight fuels my rage. He’s barely conscious, moaning in pain.
“You think you can shit on my doorstep and get away with it?” I growl, stepping closer to Dave.
He backs away, fear etched across his face. My fists are itching to make contact, to release the anger boiling inside me. But I hold back, barely. I’m not here to kill. Not tonight.
“This is your only warning,” I say, my voice low and menacing. “If you ever even look at this family again, and Sasha, I’ll end you.”
I step back, watching Dave and his men cower. But Lucas isn’t satisfied with just words. His eyes are dark with a need for violence. Before I can stop him, he lunges at one of Dave’s men, and with a swift, brutal motion, he breaks the guy’s leg. The sickening crack echoes through the room, followed by a scream of agony.
“Lucas, that’s enough,” I say sharply, trying to keep control of the situation. But I can see the satisfaction in his eyes, the pent-up aggression finally finding an outlet.
I turn to the other two men I brought. “Destroy the lab. Everything. I want these bastards out of business.”
Dave starts to beg, desperation in his voice. “Please, Marco. We’ll leave, but we need our stuff. You can’t just—”
I cut him off with a swift punch to his face, breaking his nose. Blood spurts, and he falls to the ground, clutching his face. “I said, you’re out of business,” I snarl. “And you don’t get to make demands.”
My phone rings, and I glance at the screen. My father’s number flashes across the screen, a reminder of the urgency of this situation. I need to end this and call him back. Of course, he would call me when I’m in the middle of something, not when I was sitting in my office, waiting for him.
“Get Sasha’s father out of here,” I order two of my men. They lift him carefully, carrying him toward the door. “He needs a hospital.”
I lean down, grabbing Dave by the collar. “If you ever come near Sasha again, it’ll put a bullet in your brain. Understand?”
He nods frantically, fear and pain etched into his features. I release him, wiping my hands as if ridding myself of his filth.
“Let’s go,” I say to Lucas, who reluctantly follows me out, still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. We walk back to the car where Sasha is waiting, eyes wide and scared.
As I turn to the car, Sasha suddenly jumps out, racing toward her father. Panic flashes across her face, but the two men load him carefully into their vehicle.
"He’s going to the hospital," I say gently. "I can take you there."
She nods reluctantly, her eyes fixed on the car as it pulls away. Lucas climbs into his own car, giving me a nod before driving off. I guide Sasha back to my car, settling her in the passenger seat.
"Everything has been taken care of," I tell her, trying to infuse my voice with calm and confidence.
"Thank you, Marco," she says, her voice small. But I can see the unease in her eyes, the way she fidgets in the seat.
As we drive, I notice her glancing back, her brow furrowing when she realizes we’re not following the car that has her father. "Where are we going?" she asks, her voice tinged with suspicion.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. "There’s nothing you can do for him at the hospital right now. I think you should stay at my place until things settle down."
"I’m fine to go to the hospital," she insists, her tone growing firmer. "I need to be with my dad."
"No," I say, more forcefully than I intended. "They might attack again, and I don’t have time to come back and save you."
She flinches at my words, and I immediately feel a pang of regret. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. But the thought of her getting hurt twists something deep inside me.
"Please, Marco," she says quietly, almost pleading. "I just want to be with my dad."
I shake my head, my jaw set. "It’s too risky.”
She falls silent, staring out the window.
We drive on in silence, the city lights blurring past.
We arrive at my home, a place I’ve never brought anyone before. The house looms ahead, a fortress of security. Its size and grandeur are impressive, but I see Sasha’s eyes widen with something akin to fear. When the car comes to a stop inside the garage, she doesn’t move until I walk around and open the door for her.I don’t stand back, and when she gets out, we are almost chest to chest; a blush creeps up her cheeks, and when she looks up at me with wide green eyes, she quickly ducks under my arm. I hide a grin at her reaction to my closeness. I close the car door. She stands close to the entryway of the house, but she won’t meet my gaze.
Once we are in the kitchen, she folds her arms across her chest, her gaze darting around the large open space. The interior is stunning, every detail meticulously designed, and I like watching her take in my home. I turn away and drop my keys and phone on the counter beforeI take off my coat. I notice Sasha’s eyes fixate on my shoulder. I glance down to see blood staining the fabric. Using my fist during the fight must have pulled some of my stitches, but it was worth it to break Dave’s nose.
"Come on," I say, leading her down a long hallway. "You can stay here tonight."
She follows, her steps hesitant. I push open the door to a spacious guest room. All she wants is to be with her dad, but that can’t happen.
“If you need anything, just let me know,” I say, trying to sound reassuring as I think of my father’s missed call.
“And tomorrow, I can go home?” Sasha asks, her voice small and hopeful.
I meet her gaze, but I can’t give her the answer she wants. There’s something in my eyes that must betray my thoughts. I can see the disappointment in her face.
“Get some rest,” I say instead, turning to leave. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
As I walk out, closing the door behind me, I feel a pang of guilt. I’m doing this to protect her, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I head to the kitchen and pick up my phone, hitting the dial button.
“Hi, Dad,” I say.
“Danny’s dead.” His words almost take me to my knees.