Chapter 2 INTO THE LION'S DEN

The world outside Elena Vasquez's apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

She stepped onto the dimly lit street, her pulse hammering in her ears. The docks. The caller hadn't left room for negotiation. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back, to call the police, do anything but walk straight into the unknown.

But she needed answers.

A cab dropped her off a few blocks from the waterfront. The air smelled of salt and gasoline, the distant hum of the city a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the docks. She moved carefully, sticking to the shadows as she approached the meeting spot.

A black SUV sat idling near a loading dock. The moment she stepped into view, the driver's side door opened.

A man stepped out.

Tall. Muscular. A scar cutting across his jaw. His cold, assessing gaze sent a warning through her veins.

"Miss Vasquez," he greeted, voice smooth but devoid of warmth.

She swallowed, keeping her posture stiff. "Who are you?"

"You have something our employer wants."

Her brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

The man didn't answer. Instead, he nodded toward the vehicle.

"Get in."

Elena took a step back. "Like hell I will."

A second man emerged from the shadows.

Panic tightened her chest. She turned to run, but a strong hand grabbed her arm.

"Elena Vasquez," the first man sighed, almost bored. "Don't make this difficult."

A cloth pressed over her nose and mouth. The sharp, chemical scent filled her lungs, and the world spun.

She barely had time to struggle before darkness swallowed her whole.

Elena's head throbbed. Her limbs felt sluggish, her thoughts slow, as if she were wading through water. The faint scent of leather and cologne filled the air, grounding her in reality.

She blinked, her vision sharpening as she took in her surroundings. A dimly lit room. Minimal furnishings. A single window covered by thick curtains.

Panic set in.

She pushed herself upright on the plush armchair, her hands immediately searching her body. No restraints. No injuries. But that didn't mean she wasn't in danger.

The door opened.

Elena's breath caught as a man stepped inside.

Lorenzo De Luca.

Tall, imposing, dressed in a crisp black suit like he owned the world. His dark eyes met hers with quiet calculation, unreadable yet piercing. He moved with controlled precision, as if every action was deliberate.

Elena's fury ignited. She shot to her feet. "What the hell is this?"

Lorenzo arched a brow, unfazed. "A conversation."

"You kidnapped me."

He shrugged. "You wouldn't have come willingly."

She clenched her fists. "What do you want?"

Lorenzo leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. "You were at the docks last night. Meeting with a dead man."

Elena's stomach twisted. "You mean my father."

His gaze didn't waver. "Yes."

A storm of emotions surged through her, grief, anger, fear. But she refused to let him see the cracks.

"You had something to do with it, didn't you?" she accused. "You or your people"

Lorenzo's expression remained unreadable. "Careful, Vasquez."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Why? Because I might say something true?"

Lorenzo pushed off the desk, stepping closer. His presence was suffocating, but she held her ground.

"I don't owe you answers," he said, voice low, controlled. "But I will give you a warning."

He leaned in slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers.

"You're in over your head, Vasquez. If you keep digging, you won't like what you find."

Elena swallowed hard, refusing to look away.

A tense silence settled between them before Lorenzo exhaled, almost bored. He signaled to someone outside.

A moment later, two of his men entered.

"Take her home."

Elena barely had time to process his words before they grabbed her arms, leading her toward the door.

She struggled, throwing a glare over her shoulder. "This isn't over, De Luca."

Lorenzo didn't respond. He simply watched, his expression unreadable, as she was dragged away.

But as the night air hit her skin and the car sped off into the city, one thought burned in her mind.

He wanted her to stop digging.

Which meant there was something to find.

And she wasn't stopping now.