First message
At 11:37 p.m., your phone rang.
“We caught someone snooping around one of the warehouses.”
You barely looked up. “Who?”
“Won’t say.”
A pause.
“He was taking pictures.”
That got your attention.
“Keep him there. I’m coming.”
By midnight, your heels echoed through the warehouse. Your men were waiting, unusually quiet.
“He put up a fight,” one warned.
You walked past him without answering. Whoever had broken into your warehouse knew the risks.
Then you saw the man tied to a chair.
His head hung forward, blood running from his split lip. One eye was already bruising, his shirt stained red at the collar. His breathing was rough.
You stopped a few feet away.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, he raised his head.
Your blood ran cold.
Nico.
The man you loved. The man you had spent months protecting from this part of your life.
“What…what are you doing here?”
One of your men placed a gun, a camera, and finally a badge on the table.
“Detective Nico Moretti.”
Nico watched your expression change.
He had known exactly who you were.
And you had never known him at all.
“Boss,” one of your men asked, “what do you want us to do with him?”
Nico’s swollen eyes stayed on yours.
“Baby…”
His voice was hoarse.
“Before you decide—let me explain.”