I was seven months pregnant when my cover was finally blown. The man who once claimed to cherish me—the crown prince of the Moretti Syndicate—didn't hesitate. He shattered my teeth with the butt of his rifle, broke my ribs with his boots, and dragged me into the pits of a black-site dungeon. I miscarried in that cold, dark cell. He took the tiny, lifeless body away, and I never saw him again. Five years later, a little girl crawled into my cage and whispered: "Mommy, Daddy’s drunk. He’s crying, and he says he misses you." 1 Five years ago, Silas Moretti beat me until the world went black, carried away my stillborn child, and vanished from my life. Since then, my world has been four damp walls, a bucket, and the endless dark. On the nights when the silence became a physical weight, I’d catch a rat just to have someone to talk to. It’s a miracle my mind hasn't completely snapped. But my body? My body is a different story. Years without sunlight, the moldy air, the rancid scraps they call food—every joint, every old break, every inch of me screams in perpetual pain. This little girl is the first living soul to speak to me in half a decade. She said: "Mommy, Daddy’s drunk. He’s crying, and he says he misses you." I stared at her, uncomprehending. Why was she calling me Mommy? Who was her father? I tried to answer, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. My vocal cords had withered from years of disuse. Panic flared in my chest, triggering a violent coughing fit. A spray of blood splattered across the girl’s pristine white dress. Terrified, she scrambled back and fled into the shadows. Great, I thought, slumped against the stone. More trouble. Usually, when the guards were bored or frustrated, they’d break in just to use me as a punching bag. They still haven't forgiven me for the intel I leaked five years ago—the bust that crippled their empire, killed their men, and forced Silas to flee across the border with a handful of survivors. When they found out I was the mole, I became the Syndicate’s favorite target. They called me a traitor. I almost want to laugh. I never betrayed my badge. How could I be a traitor? Silas used every torture technique in the book on me. I begged him to kill me. "No," he had growled back then. "I’m keeping your pathetic life. As long as you’re breathing, Leo will come for you." Leo Vance. My husband. He was a detective, my partner, and my soulmate. His head is the only thing Silas Moretti wants more than my suffering. 2 Clang. Clang. The heavy iron gate groaned open. Steady, rhythmic footsteps echoed against the damp stone floor. This wasn't the guard who usually tossed my slop through the slot. I retreated into the furthest corner, my eyes wide with a primal fear. The intruder held a half-empty bottle of bourbon. The sharp, boozy scent instantly filled the cramped cell. He put a cigarette between his lips. The flare of a lighter cut through the dark. The flame illuminated a face of sharp, chiseled angles and eyes that burned with the cold, predatory hunger of a wolf. Five years had passed, but I knew him in a heartbeat. My former "lover." The king of the Moretti Syndicate. Silas. He leaned against the rusted bars, exhaling a cloud of smoke. The only sound was the faint crackle of the tobacco. "Elena. It’s been a while," he rasped, his voice like gravel. I didn't speak. I had forgotten how. "We’re moving," he said, talking more to himself than to me. "The heat is picking up in this sector. We’re heading further out. We’ve made enough money to disappear forever. The men... they want me to leave you behind. They want me to put a bullet in your brain." Do it, I thought. End this misery. "But I want your death to serve a purpose," he continued. He stepped into the cell, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him. His breath reeked of whiskey. The pressure he exerted was suffocating. "I need you to bring Leo Vance to me." I met his gaze with absolute stillness. No anger. No joy. No hope. The void in my eyes infuriated him. He lashed out, his palm cracking against my face. Suddenly, blood began to pour from my nose. He hesitated, his hand hovering. "I didn't even hit you that hard..." He hadn't. The blood wasn't from the blow. It was the sickness. I could feel my body shutting down. Death was already knocking. If I was going to die anyway, why would I ever help this monster hurt my husband? Silas used the sleeve of his expensive white shirt to wipe the blood from my face, then suddenly hauled me into his arms. I tried to struggle, but he held me in a death grip, resting his chin on my matted hair. "Elena, listen to me. Just listen," he whispered, his voice dripping with a lethal kind of persuasion. "Did you see that girl? Her name is Mia. She’s your child. That baby five years ago? She wasn't stillborn. She survived. You help me take down Leo, and I let Mia live. If you don't... I’ll make you watch as I throw her into the sea." I stopped struggling. My heart froze in my chest. 3 For the first time in five years, I was dragged out of the pit. The moment the morning sun hit me, I shrieked and scrambled for cover like a blind animal. Silas didn't care. He dragged me by the arm, hauling me into a sprawling, opulent villa. Several women in heavy makeup were lounging on the massive leather sofas in the living room. "Silas..." they cooed, standing to greet him. One of them immediately pressed herself against him, kissing him deeply. Right in front of me, Silas returned the kiss with a savage, performative passion. "Bianca," he said to the woman, "take her upstairs. Clean her up. Get rid of the smell." Bianca shot me a look of pure venom. "Move it, bitch." It took Bianca and two other women an entire afternoon to scrub the filth and the shame off my skin. Hot water hit my skeletal frame, revealing every jutting rib. I looked like a ghost draped in pale skin. Five years of hell had turned Elena Vance—the bright, fierce star of the DEA—into a hollow shell of a woman. Bianca roughly brushed my hair, her voice a low, sharp hiss. "Don't get comfortable. Silas isn't the man he used to be. If you want to survive another day, you stay invisible." "Bianca. Out," Silas’s voice boomed from the door. She gave me one last warning look and scurried out. Silas stood behind me, watching my reflection in the mirror. His long, calloused fingers traced my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. Then they began to slide beneath my collar. I winced, my disgust flashing across my face for a split second. His hand stopped. Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. "Look at you!" he spat. "You’re a walking corpse! No man would even look at you if you were naked!" "Daddy!" a small voice rang out from the hall. Silas’s grip instantly loosened. He let go of my hair. "Daddy! You finally let Mommy out!" Mia ran into the room, looking at me with wide, earnest eyes. "Mommy is so pretty! But she’s too thin. You need to eat more, Mommy." I looked at her, and my vision blurred. Was she truly mine? Could this beautiful, innocent thing have come from my broken body? "Mia, how about Daddy takes us out for steak tonight?" Silas asked, his voice transforming into something terrifyingly tender. "Yay!" Mia cheered, jumping with joy. I couldn't understand how a child could be so pure in a den of vipers. On the drive to the restaurant, she never stopped smiling, her eyes glued to the world passing by the window. Silas spoke to her with a gentleness that seemed impossible for a man who had broken my ribs. I watched them—this "father and daughter"—and my mind drifted back twenty years. To when I was five years old. 4 My father was a cop. He was always on duty, undercover, away from home for two hundred days out of the year. Every time he came home, I was overjoyed, clinging to his leg and peppering him with questions. On my fifth birthday, my parents promised to take me to McDonald's. I was sitting on the back of my father's bicycle, holding a colorful pinwheel. The wind made it spin and spin. The gears of fate began to turn with it. I only remember a series of deafening bangs. I tumbled off the bicycle. The world turned into a blur of blinding red. My parents lay in a pool of blood. I don't know how long it was before a man ran over, scooped me up, and covered my eyes. "Don't worry, sweetie. It's okay. Don't be afraid." ... That man took me home. At first, I didn't eat, didn't speak, and didn't cry. I was an empty shell. The man had a son, Leo. Every day, Leo stayed by my side, talking to me, trying to make me laugh, playing Cops and Robbers with me. Later, we went to school together, did our homework together, and eventually entered the same police academy. After graduation, we joined the same precinct as homicide detectives. We solved major cases together, bled together, and sweated together. One year, I was injured on a mission. Before I was pushed into the operating room, Leo held my hand, crying as he told me he loved me. "Elena, you have to survive. I’m going to marry you." Neither of us had ever dated anyone else. We knew we were waiting for each other. After I recovered, Leo took a day off on Valentine's Day to take me to the St. Jude's botanical gardens to see the winter roses. The snow sat heavy on the red petals. It looked like a classical painting. Under the winter roses, Leo proposed. We held each other and vowed to protect one another forever. 5 As we were leaving the gardens, a young man in a sharp black suit brushed past us. My heart skipped a beat. I pulled on Leo’s sleeve. "Does he look like someone we know?" Leo nodded. "I noticed too. Silas Moretti." The Moretti Syndicate. We had been investigating them for two years, but they were shadows. We could never find a way in. But here was Silas, delivering himself to us. I wasn't letting him go. "You go back," I told Leo. "I’m going to tail him and see what he’s doing here." Leo knew my temper. Once I decided on something, there was no turning back. "I’ll wait at the bottom of the hill. Stay safe. Do not engage." I followed Silas into a small chapel. He knelt before the altar, lighting three candles and whispering a prayer. What, was he trying to seek redemption? Impossible. Silas Moretti was the iron fist of the syndicate. He was cold, ruthless, and psychotic. Heaven doesn't take devils like him. He finished his prayer and left. I couldn't tail him further, so I approached the usher. "Does that handsome guy come here often?" "Yes," the usher replied. "A few times a month." I had a bold idea: I would get close to Silas. I would infiltrate the Moretti Syndicate. Leo was violently opposed. I threatened to call off the wedding if he didn't let me take this shot. "Leo," I said. "This is the last one. Once the Morettis are gone, I’m quitting. I’ll take a desk job, marry you, and have your kids. Deal?" Leo didn't speak. He was still furious. I staked out the garden for two weeks before Silas returned. I stood not far from him while he lit his candles. When he stood up, he turned and locked his piercing gaze onto mine. He walked toward me. Good. You caught his attention. "You've been watching me," he said. "Do I know you?" "Maybe we should get to know each other," I replied confidently. "Why?" "Because... you're very handsome." I made sure to blush as I said it. "Ridiculous," Silas muttered, turning away. But every time he came to the chapel after that, I was there. Finally, one day, he said, "Beautiful, let me buy you dinner." 6 I became Silas Moretti's "girlfriend." He brought me into hidden clubs and underground casinos. I fed every scrap of intel to the precinct. My superiors were terrified. They wanted me out. Silas was too dangerous. But three days later, Silas was taking me to a high-level meeting. It was the jackpot. I promised my captain that after this, I was done. I got the intel. I witnessed a massive illegal arms deal with an international cartel. After the deal, Silas was riding high. He had been drinking. He looked at me, a dark fire in his eyes. "Elena. You have an incredible body." I felt a cold chill. In the two months we’d been together, he hadn't touched me. He didn't fully trust me. But today, he had let me into his inner circle. He trusted me now. And I had to prove my "loyalty." He pulled me onto his lap and started unbuttoning my shirt. I grabbed his hand. His eyes narrowed. He picked up the gun on the table and pressed the barrel against my forehead. "Strip." ... I walked home in the light rain, my coat wrapped tightly around me. Leo had called eight times. I finally answered. "Leo... we need to break up." I turned over all the evidence on the Morettis, filed my resignation, and disappeared. Seven months later, when Leo finally found me, my stomach was heavy. I was seven months pregnant. He held me tight. "Elena, the Morettis are gone. You're safe. Marry me. Let me take care of you forever." We chose a small restaurant in a neighboring town for a quiet wedding. Mostly Leo’s family and friends. His captain officiated. The weather was terrible. Dark clouds gathered in the afternoon, and by evening, a storm was raging. "Leo Vance, do you take Elena More—Elena Vance to be your wife? To love and protect her, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?" "I do." 7 The memories faded as the car continued to move. The scenery outside grew more desolate. This didn't look like a place to get steak. Finally, the car stopped in front of an abandoned factory. Silas told his men to watch Mia, then dragged me inside. "Before dinner, we have a little business," he told me. "The cops caught my brother. I agreed to a prisoner exchange. You for him." He turned on his radio. "Snipers in position. Once the exchange is made, the moment the cops try to take Elena away, open fire. Leave no survivors." He grabbed my hair. "Tell me, do you think Leo Vance is the one coming for you? Your precious Leo?" I smiled. "You better pray he isn't. He’ll bury you." My smile enraged him. "You goddamn traitor!" Traitor? I never betrayed my faith. Twenty minutes later, the radio crackled. "Boss, they're here!" Silas and his men racked their guns. The factory door opened. Three men walked in. The man in the middle was Silas's brother, Marco. The other two? I didn't recognize them. But they had the look of my former colleagues. Silas narrowed his eyes. "Where is Leo? Why didn't he come?" "Silas Moretti! We brought your man!" the plainclothes officer shouted. "Let's make the trade!" "I said Leo Vance personally! Are you screwing with me?" Silas roared, cocking his pistol. The tension was a physical weight. "Si... Silas." It was the first time I had spoken in five years. "K-keep Marco. Let the two officers... go." He shot me an icy look. "Why the hell would I do that?" "I’m not leaving. I’m staying with you." He ignored me. I slowly dropped to my knees, begging. "Don't make me go. I want you. I want Mia. Let the three of us go... far away. Please?" His cold expression cracked just a fraction. He finally lowered his gun. "Leave Marco. You two cops, get the hell out!" On the drive back, Silas sat in a stony, dark silence. Mia was quiet too, playing with her toy. It was a realistic-looking toy gun. Back at the villa, Silas barked, "Bianca, take Mia upstairs!" As soon as they were gone, Silas spun around and slapped me across the face. "You think you deserve to be Mia's mother?" He squeezed my throat. "If Leo doesn't show his face, I’m going to kill you myself, you demon!" I just laughed. Blood poured from my nose into my mouth, staining my teeth. I probably did look like a demon. Silas let go in disgust, and I collapsed. I was dragged back to the hole. Familiar dark. Familiar damp. Familiar silence. I almost felt safe here. I curled into the corner, staring. I had learned how to zone out over the last five years. When I did, the memories would float and shift. Leo, Silas, my parents, my adoptive family. They were all so real. Clang. Clang. The iron gate again. It wasn't mealtime. A flashlight beam cut through the dark. Behind it was a woman. It was Bianca. "Elena. Come here." She gestured to the bars. She shoved a plastic bag into my hand. "Painkillers. They might help." I didn't understand why she was suddenly kind. Before she left, I asked her to leave the flashlight. I pulled a photo from under my pillow. By the light of the flash, I looked at the man in the picture. The only photo I had left of him. A handsome face in a police uniform. Bright eyes. A sunny smile. Leo, it's been a long time. My mind drifted back five years.
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