Chasing The Story

Her Messages

Demitri POV

I pull out my burner phone, punch in her number from the file, and type a message.

You want to shadow someone? Meet me tomorrow at 6 a.m. I’ll send the location. We’re practically neighbors, Alissia.

I hit send, not entirely relaxing. This is going to be interesting.

I send another message before she can respond.

And delete that post before you end up in your own story.

I lean back, waiting. A moment later, my phone vibrates.

Who is this?

I laugh under my breath. Bold.

You don’t get to ask questions. Not until I know you’re not setting me up.

Her reply comes almost instantly.

So, I’m supposed to meet you without even knowing your name? You’re funny. It's fine, I know a hacker, I'm sure I can find out who you are.

I smirk. She’s got some fire in her, I’ll give her that.

Please go ahead, you can tell me all about how you failed when I see you tomorrow.

Failed? Oh, you're sweet, you think I'm stupid, don't you?

Didn’t your parents ever teach you it’s dangerous to talk to strangers? Especially on the internet?

🙄 Yeah, they did. I should probably be quaking in my bed right now, right? Because you’ve got my number?

I can’t help but laugh. She’s quick, I’ll give her that.

I have more than your number, Alissia. I’ll see you tomorrow. This should be fun.

I’m glad you think it will be fun😘 Goodbye, stranger, until tomorrow.

I send one last message.

Remove that f*****g post. It better be gone by morning.

A moment passes, and the post is still there. I check again. Still up.

Her next message pops up.

Worried for me, Mr. Stranger? How sweet. 😍

I shake my head, grinning. Either she’s delusional, or she really has no sense of danger.

Are you flirting with me?

You’ll never know…

I laugh, loud enough for Axel to raise an eyebrow. He’s been reading using the linked phone, and now he’s smirking like he’s got something on me.

“I think you’ve met your match, boss,” Axel says, his grin widening.

I glance at the phone, shaking my head with a smirk of my own. “Yeah, I think you’re f*****g right.”

Sitting here, I stare at my phone, still half-expecting some sign of fear from Alissia, but there’s nothing. She isn’t scared, or maybe she just masks it well. Most people would’ve backed off by now, deleted the post, and cut all ties. But she keeps pushing, engaging, like this is some game. I open her file again and begin to go over every bit of information I have on her.

Her parents are still alive but separated—and not even in the same country? Interesting. I read deeper, trying to figure out whether they moved away or if she did. As I near the end, I see that she moved here. She grew up in the UK and only came to the States after she graduated. But the file doesn’t say why.

I lean back, letting the pieces settle. Why would she uproot herself like that? A mystery I’ll need to dig deeper into—or better yet, ask her directly when the time is right.

The car stops, and I step out, walking into the building. The men are scattered, some of the capos nodding as I pass, but I don’t acknowledge them. My mind is too tangled with thoughts of Alissia to bother with pleasantries. I push through the office doors, where the inner circle is waiting.

The room is dimly lit, with a large wooden table in the center. The men sit around it, cigars hanging from lips, the strong scent of smoke mixing with expensive cologne. At the head of the table sits Luca, my capo for the diamond operations, his fingers tapping on a briefcase. To his left, Marco, my top enforcer, leans back in his chair, arms crossed. Vincenzo, one of my best smugglers, sits quietly, scribbling something down in his notebook.

“Boss,” Luca says as I take my seat, “we’ve secured the shipment out of Angola. Diamonds, clean-cut, and ready for the usual route.”

“Good,” I say, nodding. “What’s the weight?”

“Eighty carats total,” Luca replies, sliding a document across the table. “We’ll split them through the European market first, then bring the rest into the States under cover of the shipments Marco has coming through the docks.”

Marco grunts his approval, his eyes never leaving me. “Security’s tight on the docks, no one’s going to sniff out our cut.”

“See that they don’t,” I reply, skimming the document briefly. “And I want no interruptions this time. Last time, the Feds got too close.”

Vincenzo clears his throat. “I’ve got a new team handling the transfers. No names, no trails. We’re good.”

We spend the next hour hammering out details of shipments, ensuring everyone has their part locked in. As the meeting wraps up, I push back from the table, barely hearing the last few details. My focus is elsewhere.

Alissia.

By the time I get back to my penthouse, it’s late, but sleep feels impossible. I toss my phone on the bed and begin to undress, but even as I lie down, my mind is buzzing. I can’t stop thinking about her. Those few messages earlier have wormed their way into me, latched on hard, and now I’m restless. I grab my phone again, checking to see if her post is gone.

It’s still there.

I grit my teeth, staring at the screen. The thought of her walking blindly into this world, with no idea what she’s inviting, keeps turning over in my head. I check again. Still there. She’s stubborn, I’ll give her that.

Sleep evades me, and my thoughts keep circling back to her—what she’s after, why she’s not afraid. I’m supposed to be working, dealing with business. But I can’t get her out of my damn mind.

And that post—it’s still f*****g there.