Chapter 2 - The Ambush
For three days, the secure apartment Damiano provided was a sanctuary of absolute silence.
But Marcus was a man obsessed with control, and my disappearance was a direct threat to his ego. On the fourth evening, the silence broke. The heavy mahogany door of the apartment rattled.
"I know you're in there," Marcus’s voice hissed through the wood, laced with the familiar, terrifying venom that always preceded a beating. "Did you really think some rich guy from a gala cared about you? He was a prop. You're a stray dog, and you belong to me. Open this door before I have the building manager break it down."
My heart hammered against my ribs. I backed away, my hands shaking as I reached for my phone.
But I didn't need to make a call.
The sound of the elevator chiming at the end of the hall made Marcus pause.
"You don't belong on this floor," a voice echoed through the corridor. It wasn't the building manager. It was a voice that sounded like grinding stone and absolute authority.
I crept toward the security monitor on the wall and pressed the screen.
Marcus was standing in the hallway, his charming businessman facade slipping as he turned around. And standing at the opposite end of the corridor, flanked by four massive men in tactical suits, was Damiano Ricci.
"She's my fiancée, Ricci," Marcus spat, trying to sound brave, though I could see his shoulders tense on the monitor. "This is a domestic issue. You had your fun at the gala, but you need to back off. My firm has politicians in our pocket. You don't want this kind of PR nightmare."
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Damiano didn't raise his voice. He didn't even break his stride as he walked slowly down the hall.
"You don't have a firm anymore, Marcus," Damiano stated lethally.
