Chapter 2 - The Fire That Never Died
The man in the leather jacket—whose name, Leo would later learn, was Silas Vane—struggled to his feet, his face a mask of primal panic. He wasn't looking at Kinsley anymore; he was looking at Leo, his eyes darting toward the dark, narrow mouth of the alley as if calculating the odds of a sprint.
“Moretti,” Silas hissed, the name sounding like a curse he hadn't intended to utter aloud. “You shouldn't be here. This… this is business. It has nothing to do with you.”
Leo didn't stand up. He remained crouched in the mud, his eyes fixed on Kinsley. She was pale, her breath coming in jagged hitches, her eyes wide and reflecting the neon glow of the liquor store sign. When she had whispered those words—He’s the one who set the fire—the world had effectively ceased to exist for Leo.
Five years ago, the Moretti family had been torn apart in a roaring, white-hot inferno that consumed their ancestral estate. His father, the man who had built their empire, had been trapped in the study, his voice lost to the crackle of flame and the collapse of the timber. The investigation had been tidy, cold, and final: Electrical fault.
Leo had never believed it. He had spent years tracing shadows, bribing ghosts, and burying his grief beneath a layer of calculated, cold-blooded violence.
“You say ‘business,’” Leo said, his voice quiet, vibrating with a restrained fury that was far more terrifying than a shout. “I call it an appointment that’s five years overdue.”
Silas took a step back, his boots slipping on the slick pavement. “I was just a cleaner! I didn't hold the matches! I just did what I was paid to do!”
Leo stood up slowly, unfolding his frame like a blade being unsheathed. “Who paid you, Silas?”
“I can’t!” Silas shouted. “They’ll kill me if I talk! They’ll kill us all!”
Kinsley, leaning against the chain-link fence, finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper against the drumming of the rain. “He’s lying, Leo. He wasn't just a cleaner. He kept the logbook. He kept… he kept evidence of everyone who was involved. He told me. He used to brag about it when he was drunk.”
Silas’s face contorted with rage as he turned toward Kinsley, but before he could move, Leo was on him. It wasn't a fight; it was an extraction. Leo’s hand clamped onto Silas’s throat, pinning him against the brick wall with such force that the air escaped Silas’s lungs in a wet gasp.
“Kinsley,” Leo said, not looking away from his prey. “Go to the car. My driver, Marcus, will take you to a safe house. You are under my protection now.”
“No,” she breathed, shaking her head. “I can’t leave you with him.”
“You are not a witness anymore,” Leo said, his voice softening just enough to be heard over the thunder. “You are the key. Go.”
Kinsley hesitated, her eyes flickering between the man who had stalked her for half a decade and the man who had suddenly, inexplicably, become her wall against the world. She nodded once and turned, disappearing into the heavy rain toward the idling black SUV.
May you like
Leo leaned in close to Silas. The man’s face was turning a mottled, desperate purple.
“You have one chance to see another sunrise,” Leo murmured. “The logbook. Where is it?”
