Different how? Victor asked, his eyes lighting up. As if she matters to him, the man said. Matters in a way no one except his daughter has ever mattered. Victor smiled, the smile of a fox who had found the door to the henhouse. Keep watching, he ordered. Learn everything about her, her schedule, her habits, her weaknesses, and keep it quiet.

It is not time to act yet. But Victor underestimated Vincent Moretti’s information network. Only 2 weeks later Marco placed another set of photographs on Vincent’s desk, covert shots of strange men watching Nora. Boss, Marco said tensely, someone is watching Miss Hayes, Kozlov’s people. Vincent studied the photos, and Marco saw his jaw tighten.

How long have they been watching her? At least 2 weeks that we know of, Marco answered. Maybe longer. They are professionals. They know how to stay hidden. If it were not for a source inside Kozlov, we might not even know. Vincent was silent for a long moment, looking at pictures of Nora smiling, walking, living her life unaware that someone was stalking her in the shadows.

Increase her protection, Vincent ordered. Two men, 24/7, but keep distance. I do not want her to know. She will worry. Yes, boss. Marco nodded. And Kozlov? Not yet. Vincent stood and went to the window looking out at the city. We wait, see what they want. They will not attack directly. They are looking for leverage. We will not give them the chance.

Kozlov’s message came 3 days later. A black envelope delivered to Vincent’s office with a handwritten note inside. We want half of Chicago, the northern territory, the transport routes, and 20% of the casino revenue. In return, we will leave alone what you value most. If not, we will take it. There was no signature, but both sides knew who it was from.

Vincent burned the letter, watched the flames consume each word, then called his most trusted associates. War was coming, and he needed to prepare. In the days that followed, Nora sensed something was wrong. Vincent was more tense than usual. There were more secret meetings, more dangerous men coming and going.

He often stared out the window with distant eyes, and sometimes she caught him looking at her with a gaze she could not read. What is wrong? Nora asked one evening when they were working late. You seem worried these days. Vincent looked at her, and for a moment she saw something in his eyes. Fear. No, not fear for himself, but for someone else.

It is nothing, he said calmly, though she knew he was lying. Just business. You should stay inside for the next few days. Do not go anywhere alone. Nora wanted to ask more, but Vincent’s eyes told her this was not the time. She nodded, not knowing that outside in the darkness eyes were still following her every step.

Nora tried to listen to Vincent. She truly did. But when Lily called with her voice breaking, saying, “Sister, I miss you. I want to see you. Today is Mom’s anniversary, and I do not want to be alone.” Nora could not refuse. It was the day of their mother’s death. The day every year Nora lit a candle by her grave, even when all she had was a wild flower picked from the roadside.

And Lily, now 13 and living in foster care, needed her sister with her on that day. Nora told herself it would be quick, just a few hours. Visit Lily, light the candle, then go straight back. Vincent would not know. She would be safe. She was wrong. She left the apartment at 2 in the afternoon, while Vincent was in an important meeting, and no one noticed. Took a taxi to St.

Mary’s, spent 3 hours with Lily lighting a candle and talking about their mother. And when she left at 5, the sky was already darkening. She walked toward the main road to catch a taxi home, and that was when everything collapsed. A black SUV pulled up hard beside her. The door flew open, and before Nora could react, two men grabbed her, dragged her inside, pressed a cloth soaked with anesthetic over her mouth, and the world [clears throat] blurred and went black.

When she woke, she was sitting on a metal chair with her wrists tied tight to the sides and her legs bound to the legs of the chair in an abandoned warehouse with stained brick walls and the smell of damp and rust. A single bulb overhead shining down on her like a circle of interrogation light in endless darkness. She was not alone.

Three men stood around her with guns and cold faces and opposite her on an elegant chair that did not belong in this place, sat an old man with silver hair and eyes like a snake’s. “You are awake,” he said with a faint Russian accent. “Good. I hate waiting. Who are you?” Nora asked more calmly than she expected.

She had been in worse places before, locked in a container waiting to die. Compared to that, this was just another bad day. “Victor Kozlov,” the man replied with a polite smile, as if at a cocktail party. “And you are Nora Hayes, the woman who makes Vincent Moretti weak.” “I do not know what you are talking about,” Nora said.

“I am only his assistant, nothing more.” Victor laughed softly, a laugh that never reached his eyes. “You lie very badly, Miss Hayes, but that is all right. We will soon know the truth.” He nodded, and one of the men stepped forward and punched Nora in the face. She tasted blood. Her head swam, but she did not cry, did not beg.

She had endured worse with Ray Hayes. She had learned how to become stone, how to retreat inside and wait for the storm to pass. Half an hour later, with her face swollen and blood at the corner of her mouth, Victor took out his phone and called, putting it on speaker so Nora could hear. Vincent answered on the second ring. “Hello, Mr.

Moretti,” Victor said sweetly, like honey mixed with poison. “I have something that belongs to you.” Silence on the other end. “A woman,” Victor continued, “brown hair, brown eyes, a few scars on her wrists. She is quite stubborn, I must say, not very cooperative.” Nora heard Vincent’s breathing change. Heavier, slower, like someone holding back a volcano.

“What do you want?” Vincent said, and Nora had never heard his voice like that. Not cold, but glacial. Cold enough to freeze hell itself. “Half of Chicago,” Victor replied. “The northern territory, the transport routes, 20% of the casino revenue. One woman for half a city. Fair? Yes.” Silence. Then Vincent spoke slowly and clearly. “If you touch a single hair on her head, I will kill you.

I will kill your entire family. I will erase the Kozlov bloodline from the earth, and I will make it slow.” Victor laughed. “You have 24 hours. After that, I will send her back to you in pieces.” The call ended. Victor stood and looked at Nora with interest. “He really cares about you. I was right.

” Nora said nothing, only stared at him with empty eyes. She had learned long ago how to hide fear. At Moretti Tower, Marco stood frozen. In 20 years, he had never seen this. Vincent stood in the middle of the office with his desk overturned. Papers everywhere. The laptop shattered on the floor. His hand bleeding from broken glass, but he did not notice.

His eyes burned like hellfire. And when he roared, the entire floor fell silent. “Find her,” he shouted. “Mobilize everyone. Call every contact. Find where the Kozlov are holding her now.” “Boss, we need to stay calm and plan.” “Now, Marco,” Vincent cut in, and something in his voice made Marco step back. “And when you find them, I want everyone who touched her dead. All of them.

” Marco nodded and turned to give orders, but before leaving, he looked back at Vincent standing in the wreckage of himself, and a thought crossed his mind. He loves her. Truly loves her. Not concern. Not gratitude. Love. 15 minutes later, when a source reported Nora’s location, Vincent already had a gun and was heading out.

“Boss, wait for the team,” Marco said. “It is a trap. You cannot go alone.” Vincent did not turn back. “She is there alone,” he said. “She is waiting for me.” And then he disappeared into the night, and Marco could only run after him praying they were not too late. Nora had lost all sense of time. She did not know how long she had been in that warehouse, only that her face was swollen and aching.

Her lips were cracked and bleeding, and her body had gone numb from sitting too long on the cold metal chair. Victor had left after his call with Vincent, leaving three men to guard her. They did not speak to her. They only stood there like stone statues with cold eyes and hands never leaving their guns.

Nora forced her mind to stay awake. She thought of Lily, of her sister’s smile blowing out birthday candles months earlier, of her promise to bring her home. She thought of Isabella, the 17-year-old girl who treated her like a sister and had hugged her and thanked her for saving her. She thought of Vincent, of the gray eyes that looked at her with a tenderness he tried to hide, of the awkward hand on her back the night she cried, of the cups of hot tea that appeared on her desk every late night.

If she died here, at least Lily had her surgery. At least her sister would live and be healthy and have a future. That was what mattered most. Victor returned after a few hours, and he was not alone. Five more armed men with the eyes of killers. “Moretti is not responding,” Victor said with irritation. “It seems he needs more motivation.

” He nodded to one of the men, and Nora knew what was coming. She clenched her teeth and prepared for pain, but it never came. Instead, the lights went out, and darkness swallowed everything in an instant. There were shouts and gunshots and bodies hitting concrete and sounds of violence exploding around her.

Nora could not see, only hear. Then the lights came back, and she saw hell. Men lay scattered on the floor, some unmoving, some groaning in their own blood. And standing among them like an angel of death was Vincent Moretti. His black suit stained, hair fallen over his forehead, gun smoking in his hand, gray eyes burning with something wild and primal she had never seen before.

He looked like a monster from a nightmare and the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. “You came alone,” Victor screamed in panic. Vincent did not answer, and only walked forward slowly, saying he did not want anyone to steal his right to kill them. Victor fired, and Nora cried out when Vincent staggered, clutching his shoulder bleeding, but he did not fall or stop.

He kept coming until he reached Victor, disarmed him, and struck him again and again until Marco and his team pulled him back. Vincent stopped breathing hard with blood on his hands. Then he turned and saw Nora, still tied, bruised, but staring at him as if for the first time. He knelt and cut her free with shaking hands warm against her wrists.

She whispered that he had been shot and needed a hospital, but he cut her off, asking if she was hurt. She said only a few punches and she was fine, but he was not. He said he was fine, and then collapsed forward, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Nora froze, then wrapped her arms around him, feeling his hot breath on her neck. “Never do that again,” he whispered.

“Never disappear like that again. I thought I lost you. I thought I was too late.” Tears ran down her face, and she held him tighter, saying she was here. She was still here. And he held her as if he would never let go. His blood soaking into her clothes, neither of them noticing, only knowing they were alive.

They were together, and that was enough. Nora woke in the familiar hospital room, soft light through the window telling her it was daytime, though she did not know which day. Her body ached, her face felt tight from bruises, but she was alive. She was still here, and she was not alone. Vincent sat in the chair beside her bed with his head bowed closed.

His right shoulder heavily bandaged, his arm in a sling, his face gaunt with stubble and dark circles under his closed eyes as if he had not slept for days. He looked like hell and he looked like home. Nora shifted slightly, and the small sound was enough to wake him. Gray eyes opened, and when they met hers, something lit in them.

Relief, gratitude, and something deeper she did not dare name. “You are awake,” Vincent said hoarsely. “You slept for 2 days. 2 days.” Nora tried to sit up, but had to lie back. “How long have you been here?” The door opened, and Marco came in with a coffee and stopped when he saw Nora awake.

“Miss Hayes, are you all right?” he asked, then looked at Vincent with a look Nora did not understand. “The boss has been here since you were brought in. 2 days. Would not leave.” Nora looked at Vincent, and he looked away as if caught doing something embarrassing. “Go outside, Marco.” Vincent said, not as an order, but almost a request.

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