Chapter 4 - THE WAREHOUSE AT MIDNIGHT
The black SUV tore through the rain-slicked streets of downtown Chicago at a terrifying speed.
I sat in the backseat, clutching the leather armrest, my heart hammering against my ribs. Enzo had explicitly forbidden me from coming. He had ordered two guards to lock me inside the master suite. But when Marco mentioned that the attack involved documents related to the restaurant district—documents that listed Lumina and its staff—I refused to stay behind.
I picked the lock on the balcony door with a bobby pin, slipped down the external trellis like a desperate cat burglar, and scrambled into the back of the SUV before Enzo's driver even shifted into gear.
When Enzo found me huddled in the footwell of the car five blocks away, his fury had been monumental. He had screamed in Italian, slammed his fist against the reinforced glass, and looked ready to throw me over his shoulder and carry me back himself.
Then he looked into my eyes, saw the stubborn, unyielding defiance burning inside me, and realized he couldn't break it.
Now, we stood together in the cavernous, rain-soaked interior of the abandoned shipping warehouse on 4th Street.
Sirens wailed in the distance, but the police wouldn't dare interfere here—not tonight. This was Valenti territory.
Broken crates, splintered wood, and shattered glass littered the concrete floor. At the far end of the warehouse, spray-painted in dripping crimson paint across a brick wall, were the words:
YOUR SON ESCAPED THE GLASS. NEXT TIME, WE TAKE THE WOMAN.
Enzo stood in front of the message, staring at the crimson letters with a stillness so profound it was terrifying. He didn't blink. He didn't breathe. He simply radiated a cold, lethal aura that made the armed men standing around him step back into the shadows.
I walked slowly across the concrete, my boots clicking softly against the floor, stopping a few feet behind him.
“It’s a warning,” I said quietly.
“It’s a declaration of war,” Enzo corrected, his voice flat, devoid of human emotion.
He slowly turned around. His dark eyes found mine in the dim amber light of the emergency generators.
“They know about you,” Enzo said, stepping closer. “The Moretti syndicate. They watched the security footage from Lumina. They know you took the glass for Leo. They think you are my Achilles' heel.”
“Are I?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability slipping past my defenses.
Enzo stopped inches from me. He reached out, his large hands gently cupping my face, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones. His touch was steady, anchoring me against the rising tide of fear.
“You are my sanctuary, Maya,” he swore, his voice thick with absolute conviction. “Not my weakness. My sanctuary. And anyone who dares to look at you with malice will answer to me.”
Before I could answer, a sudden movement by the loading dock caught my eye.
“Enzo—look out!”
A silenced gunshot cracked through the cavernous space.
A bullet sparked off the concrete floor an inch from my boot.
Chaos erupted in a fraction of a second. Marco and three other guards drew their weapons, shouting commands and opening fire toward the shadows of the upper gantry.
Enzo didn't hesitate. He grabbed my waist, tackling me hard to the concrete floor, shielding my entire body beneath his broad, muscular frame. Glass showered down around us as overhead lights shattered from incoming fire.
“Stay down!” Enzo roared over the deafening roar of gunfire.
“They’re targeting us!” I cried out, my hands gripping the lapels of his shirt as the smell of cordite filled the air.
“Not us,” Enzo snarled, his eyes burning with absolute fury as he drew his own heavy Beretta from a shoulder holster with terrifying speed. “ Him.”
A figure dropped from the rafters, rolling across the concrete toward the exit.
Marco fired twice, clipping the man’s shoulder, but the intruder managed to scramble out into the alleyway, vanishing into the torrential rain.
Enzo helped me to my feet, his hands rapidly scanning my body for injuries. “Are you hit? Maya, talk to me!”
“I’m fine,” I gasped, clutching his arm, my knees shaking so badly I could barely stand. “Enzo... they’re not going to stop, are they? As long as I’m with you, your enemies will keep coming.”
May you like
Enzo gripped my shoulders, his face inches from mine, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that burned away every doubt.
“They would have come anyway, Maya,” he whispered fiercely. “The Moretti family wants my empire. They want my blood. But the moment you stepped in front of that glass, you chose your side. And by God, I will burn this city to ash before I let anyone lay a finger on you.”
