Sirens wailed louder in the distance, cutting through the night like hungry wolves closing in.
“Move!” Doc Reyes snapped, grabbing a black duffel bag and shoving medical supplies into it. “Back exit. Now. If the cops find two dead Rossi men in my clinic, I’m as good as dead.”
I pushed myself off the table, biting back a groan as fresh pain tore through my stitched wounds. Blood seeped through the bandages again, warm and sticky against my skin. My legs felt like lead, but rage kept me upright.
“I’m not leaving empty-handed,” I growled, bending down to snatch Tony’s shotgun and the dead guy’s pistol. The movement made the room spin, but I forced it down.
Doc didn’t argue. She threw a dark hoodie at me. “Put this on. Try not to bleed out on my floor.”
We slipped out the back door into a narrow, garbage-strewn alley just as flashing red and blue lights flooded the front of the building. My breathing was ragged. Every step sent fire through my gut, but I kept moving, one hand pressed against my side, the other gripping the shotgun.
We ducked behind a dumpster as two patrol cars screeched to a stop outside the clinic. Doc pulled out her phone, fingers flying across the screen.
“I’ve got a bolt hole two blocks from here,” she whispered. “Old warehouse my cousin used for smuggling. You can lie low there tonight.”
I leaned against the brick wall, sweat mixing with the dried blood on my face. “Why are you still helping me? This isn’t your fight.”
She shot me a sharp look. “Because if the Rossis think I let you die, they’ll come for me anyway. Better to bet on the devil I just stitched up than the ones who sent those two assholes.”
We moved again, sticking to shadows, slipping through back alleys until we reached an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the industrial district. Doc picked the lock with practiced ease and we slipped inside. The place smelled of dust and old oil, but it was dry and hidden.
I collapsed onto a dusty couch in the corner office, chest heaving. Doc immediately started checking my bandages, muttering curses.
“You tore a stitch. Hold still.”
While she worked, my mind drifted. The pain pulled memories to the surface whether I wanted them or not.
Two years ago.
The Rossi mansion garden was lit up with strings of lights. Laughter and music floated through the warm night air. I stood near the fountain in a tailored black suit, watching Isabella dance with some low-level politician’s son.
She looked like sin in a red dress that hugged every curve. When our eyes met across the crowd, she smiled — that private, wicked smile meant only for me. She excused herself mid-dance and walked straight over, grabbing my hand without a word.
“Come with me,” she whispered, pulling me behind a tall hedge.
As soon as we were hidden, she pushed me against a tree and kissed me hard, her hands already working on my belt.
“Someone might see,” I murmured against her lips, even as I lifted her dress.
“Let them,” she breathed, wrapping her legs around me. “I want them to know you’re mine, Damien. Only mine.”
I fucked her right there against the tree, deep and desperate, her moans muffled against my neck. She came hard, nails digging into my shoulders, whispering how no one else made her feel this alive. How she’d choose me over the family if it ever came down to it.
I believed every word.
Afterward, she fixed my tie with gentle fingers, looking up at me with those big dark eyes. “One day, when Daddy steps down, it’ll be you and me running everything. Together.”
I kissed her forehead, heart full in a way it had never been before. “I’d kill for you, Isabella. I’d die for you.”
She smiled sweetly. “I know.”
The memory shattered as Doc tightened a fresh bandage, bringing me back to the present with a sharp sting.
“Stay with me, Vale,” she said. “You zoned out hard there.”
I clenched my jaw. “Just thinking about how fucking stupid I was.”
She didn’t push. Instead, she handed me a burner phone from her bag. “Make your call. But keep it short. These things get traced.”
I dialed the only number I still trusted. It rang twice before a familiar rough voice answered.
“Who the fuck is this?”
“Rook. It’s me.”
A long pause. Then Marcus “Rook” Torres let out a low whistle. “Damien? Jesus Christ, brother. The streets are saying you’re dead. Isabella put two in you herself. You sound like shit — you actually alive?”
“Barely,” I said, voice low. “I’m hurt bad, but breathing. I need you, man. Can’t trust anyone else right now.”
Rook’s voice dropped. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”
I gave him the warehouse address. “Come alone. Watch your back. Rossi’s got eyes everywhere.”
“On my way. And Damien… I’m sorry about Isabella. That bitch played us all.”
The call ended. I handed the phone back to Doc.
“He’ll be here soon,” I muttered.
Doc sat on the edge of a crate, watching me carefully. “You got a plan? Or are you just running on hate right now?”
“Hate’s enough for tonight.” I stared at the cracked ceiling. “But yeah… I’ve got plans. First, I heal. Then I start taking pieces from them. Their money. Their territory. Their pride.” My voice hardened. “And eventually, I’m going to make Isabella look me in the eyes while I destroy everything she loves.”
Doc shook her head. “You’re playing a dangerous game. The Rossis don’t just let people come back from the dead.”
Before I could reply, the warehouse door creaked open. Heavy footsteps echoed. I grabbed the shotgun, aiming toward the entrance despite the pain.
“Easy, it’s me!” Rook called out, hands raised. He stepped into the dim light — tall, muscular, with a scar running down his left cheek. His eyes widened when he saw the state I was in. “Fuck, man… you look like death warmed over.”
He crossed the room quickly and pulled me into a careful hug, slapping my back gently. “Glad you’re not fish food. What do you need?”
“Safe place to recover. Weapons. Intel on what the Rossis are doing now that they think I’m gone.”
Rook nodded. “I can get all that. But word on the street is Enzo’s already moving in on your old territory. Isabella’s been quiet… almost like she’s waiting for something.”
That twisted something ugly in my chest.
Doc stood up. “I’ll leave you two to catch up. But Damien — you owe me. Don’t forget that.”
As she headed for the door, my vision blurred slightly from the pain and blood loss. Rook helped me lie back down.
“Rest, brother. We’ll start hitting back soon.”
I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come easy. Isabella’s face kept flashing behind my eyelids — first smiling with love, then cold as she pulled the trigger.
She thought she’d ended me.
Instead, she’d created a monster.
My eyes snapped open when I heard Rook on the phone in the next room, voice low.
“Yeah… he’s alive. No, don’t tell anyone yet. But get the word out quietly to the right people. The old crew that still hates the Rossis. Tell them Damien Vale is coming back.”
A small, vicious smile tugged at my lips despite the pain.
Let the games begin.
But as Rook finished the call, his phone buzzed again. He frowned at the screen, then looked over at me with a tense expression.
“Shit. We’ve got a problem. One of my contacts just said Isabella put out a private bounty. Ten million alive. Twenty million dead. And she specifically wants your head as proof.”
The warehouse suddenly felt a lot less safe.