Prologue
Leonora Hayes
They say you don’t really understand fear until the man known as Lo Squalo di Veleno looks you in the eye and tells you that you belong to him.
I didn’t know who he was back then. I only knew the panic that roiled inside me as a heavy knock rattled the front door, sharp and urgent in the dead of night.
I froze. No one ever knocked like that. Not at this hour.
"Open up,” a voice barked from outside, low and rough, with that unmistakable Italian edge, something I could barely understand, even though I’d grown up hearing bits of it from my father, a full-blooded Italian who had always worked for men like this.
I peeked through the peephole, but all I saw were shadows moving like predators in the dim porch light.
My father had dealt with a lot of bad men, but none had come here this late at night.
“Who is it?” I asked, trying to steady my voice.
“No one you want to argue with,” came the answer.
“Sorry, but my father’s not here. You can come back in the morning.”
It was true. He hadn’t been home for two days. Usually, it wasn’t a concern because his business often kept him away for a while. But right now, more than ever, I needed him here.
“We’re not here for your father,” another voice said, this time clearer, dripping with that same thick Italian accent. “We’re here for you.”
Before I could respond, the door suddenly swung open, and a tall man stepped inside.
“You’re coming with us,” he said, cold and final.
“What? No! Who the hell are you guys? Let me go!” I yelled, backing away.
But strong hands grabbed me before I could run, pulling me into him. I struggled, but it was useless.
Then, a man walked closer, his silhouette was massive, a shadow taller than the rest, the sharp glint of a silver ring catching the faintest light. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I knew that it was him.
As the darkness crept in, his fingers closed around my jaw, hard and unyielding. He gripped me like I was his to hold, his thumb pressing just beneath my cheekbone, tipping my eyes up to meet his cold, ruthless eyes.
And then, before I could scream again, the back of a gun slammed into my head, blackness swallowing me whole.
