Chapter 1 – The Alleyway
*~ New York City ~*
The glow of streetlights shimmered across the wet pavement as Christina tightened her scarf and checked her phone for the time. 12:37 AM. Too late, again. The library had been nearly empty, and the coffee in her thermos long cold — but she had stayed. She always stayed too long.
She shoved her phone into her pocket and picked up the pace. Her sneakers splashed through a shallow puddle as she turned onto 11th Street. It was quieter than usual. No taxis. No drunken college kids. Just the hum of distant traffic and the whisper of wind between the buildings.
Her shortcut — a narrow alley she had used dozens of times — lay ahead. She hesitated at the mouth of it. Normally, she wouldn’t think twice, but tonight something felt… off.
Then she heard it. Voices. Male. Not friendly.
She flattened herself against the cold brick wall, heart pounding. Her breath misted in the air. Slowly, she peeked around the corner.
Three men.
One was kneeling on the ground, bleeding from the mouth. Another was standing beside him with a gun. The third stood apart — tall, powerful, calm like a man in charge. He wore a dark wool coat that caught the dim light just enough to make him look untouchable.
His voice was low. Controlled.
“You don’t steal from me, coglione. Not unless you want to spend your next life in pieces.”
Then—bang.
The sound cracked the night open like thunder.
Christina gasped.
Too loud.
The tall man turned sharply. His eyes found hers. Dark, alert, dangerous.
She ran.
“Grab her!” he barked.
Footsteps. Heavy. Gaining on her.
Christina sprinted, lungs burning, panic in her throat. Her backpack bounced against her spine as she bolted for the end of the alley—
A hand caught her wrist. She screamed and twisted, but it was no use. Whoever grabbed her was strong. Too strong.
“Let me go!” she shouted, kicking and flailing.
She was spun around — and suddenly, he was there. Him.
Up close, he was even more intimidating. Early-to-mid-thirties. Chiseled jaw, sharp cheekbones, dark hair swept back with careless precision. His eyes were colder than winter — and yet, oddly curious.
“What did you see?” he asked.
“I—I didn’t mean to. I was just walking home.”
He stepped closer. “You expect me to believe that?”
“I swear! I’m a student, not—whatever this is!”
He paused. “Name?”
“Christina.”
His head tilted slightly. “Greek?”
She nodded. “My parents are from Thessaloniki.”
Something flickered across his face. Almost… recognition?
He turned to the man holding her. “Let her go.”
“But—”
“I said let her go.”
The grip on her arms loosened. She stumbled back, clutching her backpack like a shield.
Dante studied her for another moment. Then, just before turning away, he said calmly:
“If I find out you talked about this night — even whispered it — there won’t be a second warning.”
And with that, he disappeared into the shadows.
Christina stood there frozen in her place trying to process what just happened. She didn’t feel cold or anything,she was just numb.
After a few minutes she regained her senses and started walking again.
