Chapter 1
Karla POV:
Midnight.
The dock warehouse.
Dim light leaked through the gap in the door.
Reid and I paused outside.
He placed a hand on my back and gave it a light pat.
"Something feels off. Stay sharp."
I nodded, preparing to step forward.
He blocked me with an arm.
"I'm going first."
"It's my job."
"I don't give a damn about your job."
He slid his hand to my waist, yanking me behind him.
His arm felt solid and powerful.
Instinct told me to push him away, but my fingertips only brushed against his sleeve.
I froze for a second.
His strength left me momentarily dazed.
My heart skipped a beat.
In the end, I didn't push.
The warmth of his palm lingered on my hip.
Then, the door swung open.
Stacks of cargo filled the warehouse.
Reid and I stood side by side in the open space under the rafters.
The air carried a thick mix of seawater, diesel, and rust.
Opposite us stood six heavy-set men in black, their arms covered in tattoos, guns tucked into their waistbands.
The overhead light flickered, casting harsh, jagged shadows across their faces.
"Well, if it isn't the useless young master of the Greco family. Fetching the cargo yourself?"
The speaker made no effort to hide his contempt.
Reid’s expression remained unchanged.
He maintained his composure, his voice perfectly calm.
"Wasn't the agreement two men from each side? Bringing a crowd to the first deal seems like bad form."
The men looked at each other and burst into roaring laughter, doubling over as if they had just heard the joke of the century.
The sound sent a tight ache through my chest.
I frowned, letting out a sharp breath through my nose.
Reid’s gaze swept slowly toward me. I cut myself off and went still.
"Kid, we have our own way of doing things," the leader said. "After all, you can't get this kind of cargo anywhere else."
Reid tilted his head back and let out a soft laugh.
"Fine. You have the goods, you make the rules."
He placed the briefcase on the table and flicked the latches open with a sharp click.
"Let's check the cash then."
The briefcase was packed tight with stacks of bills.
My hands pressed tight against my thighs, fingers curling slightly.
My eyes tracked their every micro-movement.
The other side dropped their own briefcase on the table, flipping it open.
They grabbed the stacks of bills, flipping through them one by one.
Reid tapped his index finger twice on the wooden tabletop.
It was our signal, honed through years of coordination.
I drew my dual pistols from my hips instantly,
Within a single second, four men dropped to the floor.
The remaining two scrambled for cover.
Reid lunged forward, locking the remaining two into a brutal brawl.
I knew he could handle them.
I moved fast, popping their briefcase open to inspect the product, throwing the cash back into place, and slamming both cases shut.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a sudden movement behind a stack of crates.
I tried to dodge, but I was a second too late.
A wave of agonizing pain shattered across my back.
Splintered pieces of a wooden chair rained down around me.
Stars exploded across my vision.
Damn it.
A seventh man！
He had blindsided me with the chair.
I forced myself to turn around through the pain, but Reid was already there.
He lunged past me and snapped the man's neck with a sharp twist.
The scent of gunpowder, dust, and blood hung heavy in the air.
I uncurled my fists.
The skin on my back felt like it was ripping apart.
I wanted nothing more than to throw myself into his arms and let him hold me.
But a second later, I merely caught my breath and looked at him.
"Thank you."
After all, I was just his shadow.
Reid’s lips
"Fool. So careless."
He surveyed the room quickly, putting a security bullet into each of the seven corpses.
Then, he reached out and pulled me against his shoulder.
"How bad is it?"
The tears threatened to spill over, and I barely held them back.
"I'm fine."
I didn't dare say more; the pain made it impossible to breathe.
I just wanted to lean into him, using his body heat to find a shred of courage.
He paused for a beat, then forced my face around to meet his gaze.
His light blue eyes locked onto mine.
"You're about to pass out from the pain, aren't you?"
A tear escaped, tracking down my cheek.
I nodded.
He always knew everything.
The car tore down the road.
I rolled the window down, letting the cool wind blast my face.
Reid kept his eyes locked on the road ahead.
The flickering streetlights threw passing shadows across the interior, carving his features into sharp, chiseled lines.
I often stole glances at him when he wasn't looking.
Thirteen years, and I still hadn't looked my fill.
The throbbing grew more intense.
I leaned heavily against the door, not daring to let my back touch the seat.
He reached over, his hand finding the back of my neck.
"Hurts, doesn't it?"
"No."
He let out a soft chuckle.
"Liar. You can barely breathe."
He applied a fraction of pressure, his fingers tightening on my neck.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
"Agh—"
"See? Told you."
"You still have the energy to mock me," I replied weakly.
I pressed further against the door.
My eyes closed instinctively, savoring the gentle rub of his fingers against the back of my neck.
His voice dropped an octave, turning serious.
"It shouldn't be anything vital. Let's get home first."
He pulled his hand back and floored the accelerator.
The warmth of his palm still lingered on my skin.
After a few miles of silence, Reid spoke up again.
"Remember the story. There were only four targets, and you took down three by yourself."
I let out a weak laugh.
"How long do you plan on hiding it?"
He shot me a dismissive glance.
"As long as I want."
"Well, I don't like it," I said, turning my eyes to the window. "The assignments Don is giving you are getting more critical by the day. You know what that means. You're supposed to take over. Stop playing these stupid games."
He flashed a mocking smile but offered no reply.
Panic flared in my chest.
"They all think you're a useless trust-fund kid, but I know better..."
I spoke too fast, the effort tugging at the torn muscles in my back, sending a flash of white-hot pain through my spine.
He slammed on the brakes.
The car jerked to a halt, and he leaned in close, his face inches from mine.
"Karla, just do as I say, alright?"
In the dim light of the dashboard, his pale blue eyes burned with a mix of harsh authority and a faint, hidden tenderness.
I lowered my head, biting my lip.
"Defiant now?"
He pinched my cheek, his eyes locking onto mine, refusing to let me look away.
My heart skipped a beat.
I let out a defeated sigh, giving in reluctantly.
"Fine."
I never said no to Reid.
We had been together for thirteen years, living under the same roof, sharing every hour of the day.
We knew each other too well.
A single glance, a shift in his breathing, and I knew exactly what he required of me.
We had played this tedious game a thousand times before.
I lived in the Greco estate, in the room right next to his, though I was no Greco daughter.
I was Reid’s shadow.
Thirteen years ago, his father—our Don—pulled me from the wreckage of an operation and brought me back here.
The estate was dead silent by the time we returned, the massive house resembling a sleeping beast.
The family portraits on the walls stared down at us.
Long corridors were swallowed by thick carpeting, and we moved like cats, leaving no sound behind.
As always, we walked side by side in the quiet until we reached my door.
I stopped and turned to face him.
"Goodnight." I paused. "Thanks for saving me."
Every time I said goodnight, I wanted to stretch the seconds just to look at him a little longer.
As I reached for the handle, he grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him.
"Let me see the injury."
His voice was a low vibration that rattled through my chest.
My breathing hitched.
The sudden movement aggravated my back, shattering my breathing rhythm.
"I'm fine. It's nothing."
"I don't believe you."
He locked his fingers around my wrist, pulling me a step closer.
His sharp gaze cut right through the lie.
I tried to pull back, but his grip only tightened.
He slid his hand behind my back, tracing his fingers slowly down from my shoulder.
The heat of his palm made me shudder.
I fought to suppress the tears welling in my eyes.
"Here? Does it hurt?"
"No."
"How about here?"
I gritted my teeth, inhaling sharply through my nose.
"I'm fine..."
For him, physical pain meant nothing.
But the agony tearing through my heart was becoming impossible to bear.
I took a step back, my spine hitting the wooden door.
He planted one hand flat against the wood beside my head, his other hand maintaining its grip on my arm.
He leaned in.
"Are you avoiding me, Karla?"
I lowered my eyes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"No."
"Still stubborn. It's swollen straight through your shirt.
“Inside. Let me look at it."
We stood too close.
The heat radiating from beneath his button-down flushed across my face.
He genuinely cared about my injuries.
He always did.
Every single time.
A lump formed in my throat.
I wanted nothing more than to curl into his chest like I used to years ago and tell him how much it hurt.
Tell him it was unbearable.
But our dynamics had shifted.
I dug my fingernails deep into my palms, forcing a brittle smile.
"Do you think we're still kids? You can't just look at my body anymore."
I used the momentum to push him back, twisting the doorknob.
I needed to escape into my room before his tenderness swallowed me whole.
"I'm going to sleep."
He caught my arm again, yanking me tightly into his chest.
"Kid or not, you are always the priority."
His chin brushed against my hair.
"When you get hurt, it cuts me.
“Always."
A burning warmth surged behind my eyes, my breathing turning into a ragged tremor.
It's impossible. Don't overthink this, I told myself.
Stop reading into it.
I broke free from his arms and shoved him lightly toward his own room.
"Go to sleep. I'm exhausted. I could drop right now, seriously."
He didn't budge an inch.
His eyes remained locked on mine, stripping away every defense I had left.
My voice was barely a whisper. "It really doesn't hurt..."
"Are you sure about that?"
His tone was dead serious, more intense than I had ever heard it.
I slowly lifted my head to look at him, my heart slamming wildly against my ribs.
But my hand shifted direction mid-air.
Ultimately, I merely brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
I forced a casual smile.
"I... I should take a shower first..."
I felt his eyes lingering on my face.
A few agonizing seconds passed before he spoke.
"Fine. Twenty minutes. I'm coming back in."
I shut the door and leaned my back against it.
Inside my chest, my heart thudded so hard it was painful.
Years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated.
I was ten when I came to his family; he was thirteen.
From that moment on, we were attached at the hip.
We went to school together, trained in hand-to-hand combat together, and learned weapons together.
After grueling sessions, we shouted conversations over the bathroom dividers, competing over who could sing louder.
We rubbed ointment into each other's bruises and worked out the knots in each other's muscles.
He had seen every scar on my body.
I had touched nearly every muscle on his.
Usually, I draped myself over his back, rested my head on his shoulder.
I sprawled across the couch with him to play video games, or buried myself under the same blanket to watch movies.
For six years, I went from a stray cat to the happiest person alive.
But everything changed on my seventeenth birthday.
Fear crept in.
I became terrified that I would take things seriously.
Terrified that I was falling too deep.
After that, I changed.
I started saying the opposite of what I felt. I wanted to be close to him, yet the proximity terrified me.
I checked the time and walked straight into the bathroom.
Nineteen minutes left.
In nineteen minutes, Reid would knock on my door. And I had no idea how to face him.
💥 💥 💥
What the hell did he plan to do?
Karla was nervous -- and she has every reason to be. 👀
