Chapter 1 - The Strike in the Shadows
The sound of teeth sinking into flesh was wet and sudden.
The assassin let out a sharp, choked gasp, his hand reflexively recoiling as Nora’s bite tore into the soft web of skin between his thumb and index finger. The glass syringe, filled with lethal potassium chloride, tumbled from his slick fingers and shattered against the linoleum floor, splashing yellow fluid across the rubber soles of his boots.
In that single heartbeat of chaos, Zeo Rossi moved.
For four days, his body had been frozen in calculated stillness, his muscles coiled like compressed steel springs. The moment the assassin’s focus shifted to Nora, Zeo threw off the thin hospital blanket, swung his bare feet off the bed, and launched himself forward.
He didn't feel the pull of his stitches or the faint burning ache in his chest where two hollow-point bullets had nearly taken his life three days prior. Adrenaline flooded his veins, cold and terrifyingly clear.
Zeo reached the heavy assassin before the man could register that the comatose boss was standing on two feet.
With a brutal, trained efficiency, Zeo wrapped his left arm around the man’s throat, driving his right palm upward into the base of the assassin's jaw. The impact rattled the man’s skull against the concrete wall behind Nora. Before the attacker could draw a weapon from his waistband, Zeo twisted his body, using his momentum to snap the man’s neck with a quick, decisive wrench.
A sickening CRACK echoed through the dimly lit hospital room.
The assassin went limp instantly, collapsing into an awkward pile at Nora’s feet.
Silence rushed back into the room, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic, artificial beep... beep... beep... of the heart monitor that Zeo had left behind.
Zeo stood over the body, his chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths. He was wearing only a thin hospital gown and thin medical trousers, his dark hair messy, his beard dark with four days of stubble. Yet, standing in the amber streetlight filtering through the blinds, he radiated the lethal aura of a king who had stepped out of his grave.
Nora pressed her back against the wall, her chest heaving violently under her faded blue scrub top. Her lips were stained with the assassin’s blood, and her dark hair had fallen out of its neat bun. Her hands trembled, but her eyes—wide, clear hazel eyes—remained fixed on Zeo.
She didn't scream. She didn't faint. She didn't even look toward the door.
Zeo wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead and looked at her. Really looked at her for the first time.
She was smaller than he had realized, her frame slender under the oversized uniform, her skin pale from years of working grueling night shifts beneath artificial lights. Yet there was an extraordinary, unyielding steel in her posture.
"You bit him," Zeo said. His voice was raspy, dry as sand from days without water, but the gravelly edge held absolute authority.
Nora swallowed hard, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "He was going to inject you. I... I didn't have a knife."
A faint, wicked curve touched the corner of Zeo’s mouth. "Practical."
He stepped over the corpse, ignoring the faint sting in his side, and picked up the cheap burner phone Nora had placed beneath his pillow moments earlier. He flipped it open, his thumb moving across the keypad with practiced speed, dialing a number he had memorized fifteen years ago.
The line rang twice before a deep, gruff voice answered on the third ring. "Speak."
"Matteo," Zeo said softly.
A sharp intake of breath came through the receiver. "Boss? Gesù Maria... Is that you? Dr. Aris said—"
"Aris is compromised or dead," Zeo interrupted coldly. "Thomas and Camilla just left my room. They sent an enforcer to put potassium chloride in my IV. His body is currently cooling on the floor of Room 412."
"Thomas?" Matteo’s voice turned into a venomous roar. "That treacherous bastard! I knew he was meeting with the Greeks behind your back! Boss, give me twenty minutes. I’ll bring forty loyal men and wipe out the entire—"
"No," Zeo commanded, his tone instantly freezing his lieutenant’s outburst. "If Thomas realizes I’m awake, he’ll burn down the city and go into hiding before we can recover the offshore keys. We play this my way."
Zeo looked at Nora, who was quietly using a wet paper towel from the sink to clean the shattered glass and chemical fluid off the floor, ensuring no one coming in later would slip or suspect a chemical leak. Her calm efficiency in the face of a murder scene was astounding.
"Bring a clean vehicle to the rear loading dock behind the laundry facilities in ten minutes," Zeo ordered Matteo. "Unmarked. No escort. Just you."
"Understood, Boss. What about the body in your room?"
"Leave him. Let Thomas wonder why his hitman hasn't checked in." Zeo snapped the phone shut and turned back to Nora. "What’s your last name, Nora?"
"Vance," she replied, throwing the soaked paper towels into the biohazard bin. "Nora Vance."
"Get your coat, Nora," Zeo said, pulling a heavy black hoodie and sweatpants—left behind by his loyal guards before the fake coma began—out of the corner cabinet. "You’re coming with me."
Nora paused, holding her mop handle. "Mr. Rossi, I have three more rooms to clean on this floor. If I leave my shift early, the agency will dock my pay—"
Zeo stopped pulling the hoodie over his head and stared at her, utterly incredulous. "Nora, you just witnessed a mafia execution, bit a professional hitman's hand off, and gave me a burner phone. If Thomas’s men find you here after realizing their assassin failed, they won't dock your pay. They will chop you into pieces and throw you into Narragansett Bay."
May you like
Nora blinked, the reality of her situation finally settling into her exhausted mind. Her shoulders slumped slightly. "Right. The ocean."
"Put the mop down," Zeo said gently, stepping closer to her. For the first time, his cold gray eyes held a touch of warmth. "You saved my life tonight, Nora Vance. I don't leave my debts unpaid."
