The city was alive with the kind of quiet tension that only came before chaos. Neon lights flickered over the slick streets, reflecting in puddles from the earlier rain. Isabella Romano stood by the window of her family's penthouse, watching the city breathe beneath her. She had no idea that tonight, everything she believed would crumble.
A loud crash from downstairs made her heart skip a beat. She spun around, her hand instinctively reaching for the small dagger she always kept hidden in her bag. Her father's voice roared through the halls, followed by shouts, screams, and then… gunfire.
"Father!" she shouted, bolting toward the staircase.
By the time she reached the lobby, the scene that met her eyes froze her blood. Shadows moved quickly, men in dark suits, guns gleaming in the dim light. Her father, Giovanni Romano, stood defiantly, but there was no denying he was outnumbered.
And then she saw him.
A man tall, dark, impossibly calm, standing just a few steps from her father. His eyes—sharp, calculating, and cold—met hers for a brief moment. Something about him made her chest tighten. He wasn't just another thug. He was… danger.
Before she could react, her world erupted. The room filled with smoke and the sharp smell of gunpowder. Men were thrown across the marble floors. Screams mixed with the deafening crack of firearms. Isabella ducked behind a pillar, clutching her dagger like a lifeline.
The man—Alek Moretti, she would later learn—moved with precision, almost elegance, dispatching threats without hesitation. He wasn't just efficient; he was terrifyingly good. Every calculated move screamed experience, power, and danger.
Her father was hit. She froze, panic surging. But before she could run to him, Alek turned sharply, his gaze locking on hers again. A cold, unreadable look. The kind that said he had judged her, and found her wanting.
Then he was gone, disappearing into the chaos.
The attackers fled as quickly as they had arrived, leaving the lobby in ruins. Smoke hung heavy in the air. Her father lay on the floor, groaning but alive. Isabella ran to his side, her hands shaking.
"Father! Are you—are you okay?"
Giovanni grimaced, waving her away. "Stay back, Isabella. It's over… for now.
Her mind, however, refused to accept "over." That man… the one she had seen, with eyes like knives, was not just another enemy. He was the beginning of everything that would change her life.
And she hated him already.
Because she knew, deep in her bones, that she would see him again.
And when she did, she would make him pay.