Chapter 3 - The Underworld's Debt
The sound of silenced weapons popping in the morning air was sickeningly quiet. The two thugs behind Yuri dropped instantly, crimson blooming on their tactical vests. Yuri dropped his knife, falling to his knees, his hands raised in surrender.
"Please," Yuri begged, the Russian accent thick and trembling. "Moretti, we didn't know. The boss said—"
Lucian didn't even look at him. He didn't issue an order. One of his men, a giant with a scarred face, simply stepped forward and struck Yuri across the temple with the butt of a rifle. Yuri collapsed into the dirt, unconscious.
Lucian's attention was entirely on the little girl in the pink dress. He dropped to his knees, disregarding the blood and dirt, and opened his arms.
"Daddy!" Lily screamed, bursting out from behind Sienna and throwing herself into Lucian's chest. She sobbed violently, clutching her teddy bear and her father's expensive shirt at the same time.
Lucian buried his face in her hair, his shoulders shaking. "I've got you, principessa. I've got you. You're safe." He held her like she was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.
Sienna stood there, the wooden bat still gripped tightly in her bleeding hands. Her ribs screamed in agony. The adrenaline was fading, leaving nothing but cold, brutal pain in its wake. She swayed, her vision narrowing to a tunnel. She had done it. The kid was safe.
She took a step backward, intending to fade back into the shadows where she belonged. But as she moved, her knee buckled. She hit the ground, the bat rolling away.
Lucian looked up over his daughter's shoulder. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto Sienna. He took in the yellow jacket, the dirt-stained jeans, the brutal slash on her arm, and the blood dripping from her chin. He looked at the rusted metal rod on the ground, then the wooden bat, and finally back to her face.
"Who are you?" Lucian asked, his voice rough.
"Nobody," Sienna gasped out, pressing a hand to her bleeding ribs. "Just... nobody."
"She saved me, Daddy," Lily whimpered, turning her tear-streaked face to look at Sienna. "The bad men were taking me, and she hit them. She stepped in front of the knife."
Lucian's expression shifted. The hardened mafia boss melted away, replaced by a man looking at the person who had just preserved his soul. He stood up, lifting Lily into the arms of his closest guard. He walked over to Sienna, looking down at her.
"No one touches my family and lives," Lucian said softly. "And no one saves my family without a debt being owed." He turned to his men. "Get the car. We're taking her with us."
"Wait, no," Sienna panicked, trying to crawl backward. "I don't want any trouble. I don't go to hospitals. I don't go to cops. Just leave me here."
"I am neither a hospital nor the police," Lucian said, reaching down and effortlessly scooping Sienna into his arms. She cried out in pain, but he held her firmly. "You're bleeding out on the street because you saved my daughter. You're coming with me."
Sienna tried to fight, but the darkness was already pulling her under. The last thing she remembered was the smell of expensive cologne and gunpowder, and the strange, unfamiliar sensation of being safe.
When she woke up, it wasn't on cold concrete. She was lying on a bed softer than a cloud, surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and fresh linens. She snapped her eyes open, her survival instinct flaring. She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in her ribs forced her back down.
"I wouldn't do that," a deep voice said from the corner of the room.
Sienna turned her head. Lucian Moretti was sitting in a leather wingback chair, nursing a glass of amber liquid. He had changed into a fresh suit, looking every bit the lethal kingpin the city whispered about.
"Where am I?" Sienna demanded, her voice hoarse.
"My home. The secure wing," Lucian replied, taking a sip of his drink. "My personal physician has stitched your arm, taped your ribs, and treated your concussion. You've been out for twelve hours."
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"I need to go," Sienna said, forcing herself to sit up despite the agony. "I can't be here."
Lucian stood, walking slowly to the edge of the bed. "Sienna Hayes. Age thirty-two. Former combat medic, honorably discharged after a tour in Afghanistan. Disappeared off the grid seven years ago." He tilted his head. "Why does a decorated veteran choose to sleep under bridges?"
