BLOOD SILK SYNDICATE

Chapter 5

I couldn’t sleep no matter how hard I tried, I laid on the couch for what felt like forever, staring at the ceiling. The city lights outside the big windows kept the room from being completely dark. They cast long, moving shadows across the walls and ceiling. Every time I closed my eyes, that old photo from the study came back to me. The woman with the sad eyes, the man who looked like a younger Damien. The handwriting on the back that said “For the ones we lost. — E.”

Who were they?

Why did Damien keep that photo hidden in his study?

And why did the woman’s face make something twist painfully inside my chest, like I was supposed to remember her from somewhere?

My body still hurt from everything that happened yesterday. My knees were bruised from crawling on the floor at the restaurant. My palms had small cuts from the glass. My arm stung where I got grazed. But it wasn’t the physical pain keeping me awake, it was the fear. The questions that wouldn’t stop spinning in my head. The heavy feeling that I was trapped in something I would never be able to escape.

I sat up slowly on the couch and pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The apartment was completely quiet. Damien had gone into his room a long time ago and locked the door. I hadn’t heard any movement or his voice since then. Maybe he was sleeping, maybe he left again without telling me. I had no way of knowing.

I stood up. My legs felt weak and unsteady, but sitting still was making everything worse. My mind was racing too fast. I needed to move. I needed to do something, anything, to stop myself from going crazy.

I walked quietly down the short hallway. First I checked the bedroom again. The bed was perfectly made, the closet was full of black shirts and suits, all Damien’s size. Nothing personal. No photos. No clues about who he really was.

I moved to the next door, still locked. I tried the handle again, pulling harder this time, but it didn’t budge. I wondered what was behind that door. Weapons? Secrets? Or something worse?

Then I went back to the study.

The door was still slightly open. I stepped inside and turned on the small lamp on the desk. The soft light felt too bright in the dark apartment. I picked up the framed photo again and stared at it for a long time. The woman’s smile looked forced. Her eyes carried too much weight, too many secrets. I turned it over and read the handwriting once more.

“For the ones we lost. — E.”

Who was E? Was it Damien’s mother? His father? Or someone else entirely?

I put the photo back exactly where I found it, my hands shaking slightly. I opened a few drawers slowly, hoping to find anything that could help me understand what was happening. There were papers with long lists of numbers and names I didn’t recognize. More money transfers. Notes about meetings. Dates. Locations. It all looked important but I couldn’t make sense of any of it.

I was about to close the last drawer when I heard the first sound.

A faint crack, like glass breaking somewhere in the living room.

I froze completely.

My heart started beating faster. I told myself it was nothing. Maybe the wind outside or maybe I was imagining things because I was scared and exhausted.

Then another sound. Footsteps. Heavy ones, it was careful and very sneaky. Not Damien’s calm, confident walk. These were different.

I slowly moved toward the entrance of the living room and peeked out from behind the wall.

Three men were climbing over the balcony railing from outside. All dressed in black from head to toe, wearing masks that covered their faces. Guns already in their hands.

They were inside the apartment.

For a second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing. I just stood there, staring in shock.

Then one of them turned his head and spotted me standing in the hallway.

“There! The girl!” he shouted.

Everything exploded at once. I turned and ran as fast as I could toward Damien’s room. My bare feet slapped hard against the cold floor. A gunshot rang out behind me. The bullet hit the wall right beside my head, plaster exploded and flew into my hair and face.

I screamed.

I dropped to the floor and started crawling desperately behind the big couch, my knees scraping painfully against the hardwood.

More gunshots filled the apartment, the sound was deafening. Men were shouting. Furniture was being knocked over. Glass was shattering everywhere.

“Find her! The boss wants her alive!”

I curled into a tight ball behind the couch, shaking so hard my teeth were chattering. Tears poured down my face without stopping. I covered my head with my arms and tried to make myself as small as possible. I was crying silently, I was terrified.

This was it. They had come for me. The people Damien warned me about were really here to take me or kill me.

I heard a door slam open somewhere in the apartment.

Damien’s voice cut through all the noise like ice.

“Get the f**k away from her!”

Then the real violence started.

Gunshots everywhere. It was loud and deafening, someone screamed in pain. Bodies hitting furniture. Grunting. Fighting. More glass breaking. I could smell gunpowder thick in the air.

I heard someone fall heavily to the floor.

I stayed hidden, sobbing quietly, praying it would stop. It felt like the fight lasted forever even though it was probably only a minute or two.

Then suddenly… everything went quiet.

Heavy footsteps came towards the couch where I was hiding.

I looked up slowly, terrified, expecting to see one of the masked men pointing a gun at my head.

It was Damien.

His white shirt was covered in fresh blood. He was breathing hard, gun still tight in his hand.

He crouched down fast and grabbed my arm, pulling me up from the floor.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

I shook my head, tears still running down my cheeks. I couldn’t speak properly.

He looked around the destroyed living room. Two of the masked men were lying dead on the floor near the balcony. The third one was gone... probably escaped the same way he came in.

Damien’s jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.

“Moretti’s men,” he muttered under his breath, anger clear in his voice.

He reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. The touch was surprisingly gentle for someone who had just killed two people in front of me.

But then his eyes went cold again.

“You need to understand something right now,” he said quietly. “They will keep coming. Again and again. Until they get what they want from you.”

I swallowed hard. My voice came out shaky and small. “And what do they want?”

He stared straight into my eyes for a long second.

“You. They don't want money, they don't want territory, they want you."

Before I could say anything else, his phone started ringing loudly from across the room.

He walked over, picked it up, and answered it. He put it on speaker so I could hear.

A calm, mocking voice came through the line.

"De Luca. You have something that belongs to us. Give us the girl tonight... or we burn everything you own."

There was a short pause... Then the voice added something that made my entire body go cold.

"And tell her... her mother sends her regards."

The call ended.

Silence filled the room, i couldn't breathe.

Slowly, I turned to Damien.

He wasn't looking at me, he was looking at the old photograph lying on the study desk.

And for the first time since I met him...

*Damien De Luca* looked afraid.

My mother?

What the hell did she have to do with any of this?