Bound to the syndicate boss

Chapter two

Chapter 2

POV - Lumiere

The scent of cardamom and vanilla, usually my comfort against the biting Helsinki winter, suddenly felt suffocating. The heavy oak door had barely clicked shut behind the stranger when the atmosphere in the bakery changed. What had been peaceful only moments ago now felt filled with dread.

I turned around, wiping my flour-covered hands down the front of my canvas apron, and froze.

Jarkko Ronkainen stood by the pastry counter, leaning against the glass display case with an ease that felt completely out of place. Jarkko wasn't just a customer, he was a senior municipal zoning inspector whose signature could shut down my bakery over a made-up health violation before the week was over.

He wore a charcoal wool overcoat that smelled faintly of cheap cigars and wet asphalt. His thin, greasy brown hair was plastered across his forehead from the sleet outside, and his small eyes moved over my face with a familiarity that made my stomach turn.

"Evening, Lumiere," Jarkko said, his voice thick in the quiet shop. "Working late, aren't we? Dedication is admirable, sweetheart. But dedication doesn't stop municipal inspectors from noticing code violations in century-old timber buildings."

I gripped the edge of the wooden counter, my knuckles turning white. I had seen him twice before, and each visit had ended with him demanding money disguised as a "consultation fee."

"My kitchen passes every health and safety standard in Finland, Jarkko," I replied, keeping my voice steady even though my heart was pounding. "If you have a formal notice, file it through the city office. Otherwise, the shop is closed."

Jarkko chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound that made my skin crawl. He slowly stepped around the counter, moving into my space on purpose. His fingers reached for my wrist, cold against my skin.

"Forms are for amateurs, Lumiere. You and I, we can handle this quietly," he murmured, his thumb brushing over my pulse. "Five thousand euros by Friday, or I personally condemn this building. You'll be out on the snow-covered streets by morning, with nowhere to go and no one to protect you. You're all alone in this city. Everyone knows it."

All alone.

Matti the postman's words from earlier that afternoon came rushing back, mixing with the panic rising in my chest. A cold sweat broke out across my back. Five thousand euros was more than I made in two months. I was trapped, with no way to fight a system that could take away everything I'd worked for with a single signature.

The thought of losing the bakery made my stomach twist. This place wasn't just a business to me. It was the one thing in my life that felt steady, the one place I had managed to make mine.

"I don't have that kind of money," I whispered, pulling my hand away as a tear of frustration threatened to fall.

"Then we can negotiate alternative arrangements," Jarkko sneered.

His hand suddenly grabbed a handful of my dyed raven-black hair and pulled my head back.

"You've got a pretty face, girl. We could…"

As he was about to finish what he was saying the temperature in the room dropped instantly. It felt as if the cold outside had somehow followed someone inside.

Jarkko froze, his hand still tangled in my hair. His eyes widened as he stared past my shoulder toward the dark corner near the industrial flour bins.

"Who the hell..." Jarkko choked out, his grip loosening.

From the shadows of the back hallway, a place I had cleaned myself less than an hour ago, a tall figure stepped forward.

Mikael Koskivirta.

He moved quietly, with the calm confidence of someone who already knew exactly what he was going to do. The pale winter light from the street caught the sharp line of his jaw, the silver-blond strands of his hair, and the cold grey of his eyes. He wore a tailored black wool coat and heavy leather gloves, his footsteps almost silent against the hardwood floor.

I couldn't breathe.

I had never seen this man in my life, yet something about his presence made the entire room feel smaller. I couldn't explain why. There was something about the way he stood, the way he looked at Jarkko, that made every warning instinct inside me come alive.

Jarkko opened his mouth to shout, but no words came.

Mikael didn't speak. He didn't waste time with warnings or negotiations. In one quick movement, he crossed the distance between us and grabbed the back of Jarkko's heavy coat, pulling him away from me with enough force to lift him from the floor.

"Please…wait…I'm an official of the city…" Jarkko gasped.

"You are nothing," Mikael said.

His voice was low and rough, sending a chill down my spine.

Before I could react, Mikael reached beneath his coat and pulled out a firearm. There was no hesitation in his expression.

A muffled shot echoed through the bakery, Jarkko went still. Mikael released him, and he collapsed onto the flour-dusted floor.

I stumbled backward, my back hitting the metal racks of cooling trays. Pans rattled and fell around my feet. My chest rose and fell as I struggled to breathe.

The quiet bakery I knew suddenly felt like a completely different place.

I stared at Jarkko, unable to process what had just happened. My hands were shaking, and I could barely feel my fingers anymore. The familiar smell of freshly baked bread and vanilla had disappeared beneath the shock of the moment.

I had lived a quiet, peaceful life. I had baked bread, smiled at customers, and tried to forget the parts of my past I couldn't remember. In less than ten seconds, everything had changed because of a man who had just killed someone without blinking.

Slowly, Mikael raised his head.

The space between us felt enormous, yet his ice-grey eyes held mine as if there were nothing else in the room. He stepped forward and came toward me with steady, deliberate steps.

My knees shook so badly I thought I might collapse. I pressed myself against the metal shelving, every instinct telling me to run, even though I had nowhere to go.

Mikael stopped inches from me.

He reached toward my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself, but his fingers only brushed against a loose strand of raven hair, tucking it behind my ear with an unsettling gentleness.

"Found you," he whispered, the words made my heart stop for a second.

Before I could understand what he meant, the heavy front door chimed again. Armed men stepped into the bakery from the snow.