Chains and Shadows
1017 Words
The safe house was unnervingly quiet.
Bianca woke to sunlight bleeding through the curtains, but instead of warmth, the air felt… heavy. The events of last night still clung to her like smoke — the gunfire, the warehouse, Lorenzo’s blood on her hands.
She pushed herself up on the couch and glanced around. No sign of him.
Matteo leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, dark circles under his eyes.
“He’s out,” he said when he caught her looking. “Business.”
Business. Right. That could mean anything from signing papers to putting bullets in skulls.
“And him leaving me here is supposed to make me feel safe?” she muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.
Matteo's gaze sharpened.
“Stay inside, Bianca,” he warned.
“Don’t open the door. Don’t talk to anyone but me or Lorenzo.”
“Why?”
He hesitated, as though considering how much to reveal.
“Because someone in this city wants you gone,” he said finally, voice flat. “And I don’t just mean dead.”
Her stomach flipped.
“You could try being less cryptic, Matteo.”
“I could,” he said, heading for the door, “but then you’d start asking questions you don’t want answers to.”
And just like that, he was gone.
Bianca spent the next hour pacing.
Stay inside. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t open the door.
Easy advice to follow… until someone knocked.
“Bianca?” A familiar voice, muffled but urgent.
“It’s Matias, Lorenzo sent me.”
She frowned. Matias. She’d seen him around before — always hovering near Lorenzo, laughing at Matteo's sarcasm, even bringing her food once when Lorenzo locked her in the study.
She cracked the door just enough to see him.
“Lorenzo sent me,” he said again, glancing over his shoulder. “He needs you at the docks. Now.”
Something in her gut whispered wrong.
“Why would he send you instead of Matteo?”
Matias hesitated — just for a heartbeat — and forced a smile.
“Matteo's busy. Come on, Bianca, I don’t have time for this.”
Her instincts screamed at her to slam the door. But she thought of last night — of Lorenzo’s wound, of his cold, commanding voice — and she followed.
The moment she stepped into the hallway, everything went black.
Bianca woke to the smell of mildew and rust.
Her wrists ached — tied tightly behind the back of a chair. The room was dim, shadows clinging to the damp concrete walls. Somewhere nearby, dripping water echoed like a ticking clock.
A man she didn’t recognize leaned against the wall, smoking. When he saw her stir, his grin was shark-like.
“Awake, princess?” he drawled.
“Good. Saves me the trouble of waking you up the hard way.”
She forced steel into her voice despite the terror curling in her gut.
“Where am I?”
“What do you want?”
The man just grin.
Bianca’s throat went dry.
“You won’t get away with this,” she managed, wishing she sounded more convincing.
He laughed, low and cruel.
“You think Lorenzo De Luca is untouchable? You’re going to learn real quick, sweetheart — everyone bleeds.”
Back at the safe house, Matteo stood frozen in the doorway of Lorenzo’s office, chest heaving.
“She’s gone.”
The pen in Lorenzo’s hand snapped clean in half.
“What do you mean, she’s gone?” His voice was quiet. Deadly.
“Matias,” Matteo said, jaw tight.
“We tracked his phone. He sold us out.”
For a moment, Lorenzo said nothing. Just silence — thick and oppressive.
Then he stood, slow and deliberate, rolling his sleeves to the elbows.
“Bring Matias to me.”
Minutes later, they dragged him in — bound, bloodied, but still breathing.
“It wasn’t personal, boss,” Matias gasped.
“They offered money. I—”
Lorenzo’s gun fired once.
Matias slumped.
“Find her,” Lorenzo said, voice icy calm.
“I don’t care who you have to kill. Burn this city if you have to.”
Matteo hesitated.
“Lorenzo, think this through. If you hit the Mancinis this hard—”
“I said find her.”
Bianca had lost track of time. Her arms were numb, her throat raw from yelling.
Then came the shouting. Gunfire. Screams.
The warehouse door exploded inward.
And there he was.
Lorenzo moved like a shadow with teeth — efficient, ruthless, terrifying. Blood spattered his shirt, his jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes…
God, his eyes were lethal.
One Mancini enforcer lunged at him with a knife. Lorenzo caught his wrist, twisted, and slammed the man’s head into the wall with a sickening c***k.
Then silence.
Lorenzo crossed the room, untied her wrists with steady hands, and pulled her up to her feet.
She stumbled into his chest before she could stop herself.
For one suspended heartbeat, he didn’t push her away.
His hand came up — fingertips brushing her cheek, lingering just a little too long.
“Did they hurt you?” His voice was softer than she’d ever heard.
“N-No,” she stammered. “I’m fine.”
His thumb traced a line just below her jaw before he caught himself and dropped his hand abruptly.
“You don’t leave the house without me again,” he growled, the softness gone as quickly as it came.
“Ever.”
“Lorenzo, I—”
“Ever, Bianca.”
There was no room for argument. Not when he said her name like that.
Back at the safe house, Bianca hovered near the hallway, pretending not to eavesdrop.
Matteo's voice was low, sharp.
“This wasn’t Mancini’s move. He doesn’t have the brains for it.”
“Then who?” Lorenzo demanded.
Matteo hesitated.
“Someone else wants the girl. Someone bigger. Someone worse.”
Bianca’s blood went cold.
She’d thought the nightmare began when she met Lorenzo De Luca.
Now she realized… this was only the beginning.
- Writer
