Chapter 1: The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time
The streets of New York City buzzed with life, but beneath its lights lived darkness few ever saw.
It was nearly midnight when Elena Rivera stepped out of the back door of Luna Café, rubbing her arms against the icy wind. Her shift had been long, and she was exhausted. Her legs ached, her apron smelled like coffee, and her mind was filled with nothing but the thought of her warm bed waiting at home.
She looked up at the sky. Rain was falling again, soft and cold. The kind of rain that made the city feel lonely.
She tugged her coat tighter and pulled her phone from her bag. No missed calls. No messages. Just silence — the same silence that followed her ever since her mother passed away two years ago. With no family left in the city, Elena lived alone in a small studio apartment on the east side. She worked part-time, studied in the mornings, and did everything she could to keep her world in one piece.
But tonight, everything would change.
The main street was unusually empty. She usually took the subway home, but yellow tape now wrapped around the entrance.
Police lights. An accident, maybe. Or worse.
She sighed and checked her phone again. Dead. No signal. Typical.
"I'll take the alley," she whispered, glancing toward the narrow passage that cut behind the buildings. She had never taken it before, but it would save her fifteen minutes.
The alley was dim and damp, the only light coming from a flickering streetlamp at the end. Trash bins lined the wall, and water puddles shimmered beneath her steps.
Halfway through, she heard it.
A voice.
Low. Sharp. Cold like steel.
"You had one job. One chance to prove your loyalty."
Elena stopped in her tracks.
She pressed her back to the brick wall and held her breath. Carefully, she peeked around the corner.
Three men stood under the light. One was on his knees, beaten, face bloodied. Two others held him there.
And then she saw him.
Tall. Dressed in black from head to toe. His presence filled the alley with a silence more terrifying than any scream.
Adrian Knight.
His name was whispered in the underworld. A mafia boss. The kind of man people never met unless it was the last face they would ever see.
His voice was calm — too calm.
"You stole from me."
He raised a pistol, sleek and silver, and placed it against the man's forehead.
"You know what happens now."
Elena gasped.
Too loud.
Adrian's eyes shot toward her hiding place. Their eyes met. Piercing blue locked onto wide brown.
In that frozen moment, Elena felt her blood turn to ice.
Adrian didn't speak at first. He just stared, analyzing her. His expression unreadable, but his eyes burned with something fierce — danger, calculation... and curiosity.
Then he raised a hand.
"Get her."
Her heart exploded in her chest.
She turned and ran. Fast. Faster than she had ever run in her life. The sound of footsteps thundered behind her. Voices shouted. She slipped on the wet ground, scraped her knee, but didn't stop.
Elena didn't know who he was — not really — but she knew the look in his eyes.
He was a man who didn't let witnesses live.
She pushed through the end of the alley, ran across the street, and disappeared into the chaos of the city.
---
But Adrian Knight didn't forget faces.
And he would never forget her.
The girl with the frightened eyes and trembling lips.
The girl who didn't belong in his world — but had just stepped right into it.