All I saw was chaos and red. Blood smeared across the ground, the air thick with violence. My mind raced, trying to piece together who could've orchestrated such a calculated strike. As the head of the most feared Mafia family, we lived by a code, one that avoided open conflict with other powerful families. It was an unspoken rule, one that kept the balance intact.
Whoever broke that rule was either dangerously bold… or recklessly stupid.
The one who sent these men knew me, of that I was certain. This wasn't some random ambush. No! this person understood me, knew my strategies, and was well aware that my men were highly trained. He sent a force that could match us blow for blow. Now, the aftermath speaks volumes. Most of my men were either injured or dead, and the enemy had taken almost equal damage.
Then something changed...
The enemy started retreating.
That couldn't happen. Not without answers. I needed to know who was behind this. I scanned the chaos for Enzo but he was nowhere in sight. Without a second thought, I took off after the fleeing men. They veered off the main street of Venice, slipping into a narrow alley. I pushed myself to move faster, determined not to lose them. But just as I rounded the corner, they were gone.
Silence. Heavy, unnatural silence.
Something's wrong, I thought. And I was right.
I felt it, the presence behind me. My instincts kicked in. I twisted just in time to dodge the ambush and landed a solid punch on the attacker, knocking him out.
But it was a setup.
Five more men emerged from the shadows, surrounding me. A trap. They knew I'd come after them, and they were ready.
They charged, but I was ready too. I met them head on. They underestimated the wrong man. They underestimated me.
After taking down all six, I walked over to one of them, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him to his feet.
"Who sent you?" I demanded, my voice low and sharp. "Who's behind this?"
He hesitated, eyes flickering with something between fear and defiance. But before he could speak, pain exploded through my back. One of the men I'd thought was down had risen and driven a knife into me.
I staggered, momentarily stunned.
Taking advantage of the distraction, the one I held reached behind him, grabbed a rock, and smashed it against the side of my head. Everything spun. My grip loosened.
And just like that, they all scattered, vanishing into the shadows like ghosts, leaving me bleeding and half-conscious in the alley.
I tried to stand, but my legs gave out beneath me. Gritting my teeth, I dragged myself to a corner of the alley, blood soaking through my clothes. I leaned against the cold wall, praying someone would find me before I bled out.
Then, I heard footsteps...
Faint,
Cautious
Through my blurred vision, I saw her. But as soon as she noticed some men approaching, she hid in a concealing corner.
"So weak," I muttered with a scoff, then turned my gaze to the new threat. Not all of them had run. A few had circled back. Clearly to finish what they started.
"Bastards," I smirked, tasting blood on my tongue.
One of them grabbed me by the collar and hauled me up, delivering a brutal punch to my face. He drew back for another hit, but then a voice rang out, soft and desperate.
"Please, stop! Don't kill him!"
Everything froze. The men paused, turning toward the sound. That one-second hesitation was all I needed.
Fueled by sheer will, I struck, quick, brutal, and precise. Despite the injury, I took them down one by one, each hit landing with purpose. The look in their eyes shifted from aggression to fear, stunned by how I was still able to fight.
They panicked and bolted in different directions.
But I wasn't done.
I forced myself forward, chasing after them. I only needed to catch one. One man to give me a name.
But then, a sharp, burning pain ripped through my side, the same spot I'd been stabbed.
I stumbled, gasping, clutching my wound.
"Son of a bitch," I hissed, leaning hard against the wall for support, the alley spinning around me.
I heard more voices echoing down the alley. More of them were coming. My body tensed, but I knew I couldn't take another fight. Not like this.
Then something I never expected happened.
She ran to me.
Her tiny hands gripped my arm with surprising strength, urgency flashing in her wide eyes. She leaned close, her voice barely a whisper, "Come on… you need to survive".
For a moment, I couldn't move. Her words pulled me into a trance, her presence disarming me in a way no enemy ever had. I just stared at her, dazed. Not from blood loss, but from her.
Then she tugged at me again, snapping me back to reality.
She guided me, carefully, toward a corner and helped me down behind a dumpster, her movements fast but gentle. Her eyes darted around the alley, scanning for the approaching threat. She was clearly on the edge, her breathing quick and shallow.
Then, her gaze locked with mine.
And that was when I truly saw her.
Even in the chaos, in the middle of blood and shadows, her beauty was undeniable. She looked exhausted, like she'd seen too much, but there was something captivating in that. Under the soft glow of the moon, her brown skin shimmered with warmth, and her honey-brown eyes…
they held something I couldn't quite name. Something that pulled me in.
She was chaos and calm all at once, and in that fleeting moment, I forgot the pain.
Her expression shifted from worry to fear in an instant. Her eyes dropped to the wound in my abdomen, and I saw the panic rise in her. Without wasting a second, she rummaged through her bag with trembling hands and pulled out a handkerchief. She pressed it firmly against the bleeding, desperation etched across her face.
But it was barely enough.
The blood kept coming, warm and relentless. I could feel my strength slipping, my vision beginning to blur at the edges.
Loud footsteps echoed around us, the sharp thud of heavy boots hitting concrete. Voices followed.
My enemies.
"Where is he?"
Silence.
Then a voice responded, "He's gone!"
"She must have helped him", someone snapped.
"Who?"
"I told you! There was a woman".
"You let a woman..."
"I didn't let her do anything."
A tense silence followed, heavy with blame.
Then another voice cut through.
"So… Don. How bad was he hit?"
"He's as good as dead", came a cold reply.
Their footsteps soon began to fade, swallowed by the distance. They were gone.
I shifted slightly and looked at her.
She was still beside me, eyes wide and fearful. She was trembling, though trying hard to hide it. Brave, but shaken. "Poor girl", I thought.
I could feel the blood soaking through everything now. Time wasn't on my side. I had to move.
With a sharp breath, I tried to lift myself. Every muscle screamed in protest, pain flaring through my side. She moved instantly, her small hands gripping my wrist tightly.
Her eyes locked on mine, pleading, desperate and silently urging me to stay still. I tried to pull away, but there was something in her stare. Something stubborn. Something scared.
With a heavy exhale, I gave in and sat back down. Truth was, I didn't have the strength to keep fighting her or the bleeding.
She knelt beside me and gently helped me slip off my blood soaked jacket. Without hesitation, she pressed it firmly against the wound. I flinched, the sting cutting through me like a blade, but she didn't even blink.
There was a resolve in her. Nerve. Kindness too.
As I leaned back against the wall, struggling to stay conscious, questions flooded my mind.
Who was she?, Why would she risk her life for a man she didn't know?
I had no answers.But one thing was certain. Whoever she was, she had just saved my life.