I let a slow, deliberate smirk tug at my lips. “You’re eager,” I said softly, letting the words hang in the air, heavy with warning. “Let’s see if you can survive proving it.”
I drove my boot into Howard’s stomach one last time, for good measure. “You can have her back once you’ve paid off the sixty grand.”
Before she could react, I grabbed Tessa by the arm, my grip firm but controlled. Her eyes widened, a flicker of struggle flashing before she realized resistance was futile. I could feel her heartbeat against my fingers as I led her from the squalor of the apartment, her pulse a steady drumbeat of panic.
The stairwell echoed with the clack of my boots, every step deliberate, commanding. She stayed close, gaze flicking nervously between me and the shadows of the broken hallway.
When we hit the street, I had her sit in the back with Stefano. She hesitated for only a moment before sliding onto the seat, eyes darting between us, wary but restrained. Stefano gave her a tight-lipped glance, silent and alert, as if daring her to move.
I circled to the driver’s side and slid into the seat, gripping the wheel with calm authority. The engine hummed low, a steady promise of speed and control. I let my gaze flick to her through the rearview mirror. Fear danced in her eyes, but alongside it burned a spark of defiance, stubborn and unbroken.
Good. That made this interesting.
“Sit still,” I murmured, voice low, deliberate. The words were both a warning and a challenge. I didn’t need to see her hands clenching the seat edges to know they were tight.
As the car pulled away from the South Bronx, the city lights stretched into long streaks, and I felt that familiar thrill—thekind that came when everything was under my control. Except, perhaps, her.
Chapter 3
Tessa
All of my nights previous complaints now paled in comparison to what had just happened. I would have rather dealt with an endless loop of the stale smell of the restaurant, Larry Johnston, and my father screaming at me in a drunken rage than this.
I wasn’t even sure whatthiswas. Clearly, my father owed a lot of money to the wrong people. But who the hell were they? Specifically, who the hell was this guy?
I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. His eyes were fixed on the road, dark and sharp, every line of his face etched with control. There was a steadiness in the way he gripped the wheel, the kind of confidence that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.
He should have terrified me more than he did. And yet, something about him drew me in. The curve of his mouth, the quiet command in his presence, the way even silence seemed to obey him.
Who was he, this man who had turned my world upside down in a single night?
As if sensing my thoughts, his gaze lifted to the rearview mirror and caught mine. His eyes carried a dangerous allure, steady and unreadable, and something deep inside me stirred before I could stop it. The instinct to be afraid was clear, yet beneath it, an inexplicable pull whispered at the edges of my mind, tempting me before I even realized it was there.
I tore my gaze from his, the weight of his stare too much to bear. My chest tightened, as if even acknowledging it gave him too much power. Instead, I fixed my eyes on the blur of headlights and buildings rushing past the window, clinging to the fleeting normalcy outside. I wondered where he was taking me, the question looping in my mind like a warning bell.
Men like him didn’t take girls like me anywhere safe. My stomach twisted at the possibilities—dark alleys, locked rooms, being sold off to whoever would pay the highest price. Human trafficking. The word alone made my skin crawl, and I hugged my arms around myself as if I could shield my body from the future I was being driven toward.
I wondered if it paid better than my father organs.
It felt like both an eternity and too soon as we pulled up to an unmarked building in the middle of nowhere. I was frozen inside of the car. That building held my uncertain future, but one thing I was certain of is that it wasn’t a good one. The man who had taken me opened the car door and guided me out. I stumbled slightly on the asphalt, but he steadied me effortlessly, his presence commanding even as his hold remained careful.
I should have put on some fucking shoes before I left. The asphalt cut into the soles of my feet, sharp and burning with every step. I flinched, trying to pull back, but his hand stayed lightly on my arm, guiding me forward with an ease that left no room to argue.
My gaze drifted upward, almost against my will, and I found myself looking at him again. The curve of his jaw, the sharp line of his shoulders under the dark jacket, the calm command in his stance—it drew my eyes like a magnet. A part of me, small and traitorous, was taking him in, noticing him in ways I knew I shouldn’t, even as fear screamed for me to look away.
One of his cronies held the door open for him and the two of us walked in together. He led me down the hallways, knowing exactly which turns to take, each step purposeful and precise. I stumbled slightly on the uneven floor, my bare feet aching against the rough surface.
“Keep up,” he said tersely over his shoulder. “I don’t have time to wait for you.”
“My feet are cut open,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Immediately, I wished I hadn’t spoken. I was the most foolish girl in the world, talking back to a man who could probably break my neck with three of his fingers.
A slow, dark chuckle rumbled from him. “Is that so?” he murmured, eyes glinting with amusement. “Move faster, or the pain in your feet will seem like a blessing.”
I followed his command, forcing my aching feet to keep pace. At last, we reached an office, and the moment he opened the door, a wave of dread washed over me. I had to be in a horror movie.
A mirror copy of him sat at a desk, the same scowl etched on his face. This man had a twin.
