Chapter 2 Strange attraction

Hailey couldn't shake the chill left behind by her father's words.

The Russos are dangerous, Hailey. Stay away from them.

He hadn't elaborated. Just that-an order cloaked as fatherly concern. She had nodded, played the obedient daughter, but inside, questions clawed at her like sharp fingernails on skin.

That night, she lay in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. But her mind wasn't on her father. It was on Christian.

The way his touch had lingered just a second too long on her hand. The intense way he'd looked at her, like he already owned her secrets, her soul. It was stupid. It was reckless. But still, her pulse had quickened. Her skin still remembered.

Despite her father's warning-or maybe because of it-she wanted to see him again. She had to see him again.

The next morning, fueled by equal parts curiosity and defiance, Hailey began digging. She texted a few friends, asking casually about Christian Russo. Most hadn't even heard of him. One had heard rumors, vague and contradictory-something about family money, maybe some criminal ties, but nothing concrete.

Frustrated, Hailey dove into internet research. She sifted through news articles, blogs, anything with the Russo name. Nothing useful. It was like the family had erased their own history.

Determined, she made her way to the town's library. It smelled of old paper and forgotten secrets, and that felt fitting. She spent hours leafing through archived newspapers, scanning every mention of the Russos.

Then, finally, something.

A yellowed article from nearly twenty years ago. A feud. The Russos vs. the Stevens. Her family. Her father.

Hailey's blood ran cold as she read.

The article mentioned a land dispute. A failed business deal. Accusations of betrayal. Vandalism. Then it trailed off, citing "an unresolved incident" that left the feud buried in silence. No follow-up articles. Just a single cryptic line: "The town remembers, even when the families pretend to forget."

Why had her father never told her any of this?

She left the library as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in bruised purples and reds. But she barely noticed the beauty. Her mind was on the past-on secrets. On Christian.

Across the street, hidden behind the tinted window of a parked black car, Christian watched her.

He had followed her from the moment she left her house that morning. She was careful, clever, too curious for her own good. And far too stubborn to scare off with a warning. Just like he remembered.

He'd hoped she would leave it alone. But the moment she stepped into that library, he knew she wouldn't.

Still, Christian couldn't walk away.

As Hailey stepped onto the sidewalk, he saw the resolve in her eyes. She looked beautiful in the dying light-serious, determined, dangerous.

He was drawn to her like gravity.

I warned her, he thought, jaw tightening. But she's not afraid of monsters. She wants to kiss them.

Later that night, Hailey thought she was alone as she walked home, but something made her glance behind her shoulder. No one was there.

She quickened her pace.

When she reached her house, she locked the door behind her, leaning against it as her heart raced. Then she made her way upstairs, barely able to breathe.

She had to see him again.

The next morning, her father was waiting in the kitchen, sipping his usual black coffee. He looked up as she entered, eyes narrowing.

"You've been quiet," he said. "You alright?"

Hailey gave him her most convincing smile. "Just tired."

He stared at her for a moment longer, then nodded. "You know what I said yesterday still stands."

"I know."

His gaze lingered. "Good. I just want what's best for you."

She nodded, playing the good daughter again, but behind her eyes, something had shifted. The spark of defiance had become a flame.

That night, she slipped out of the house. She told her father she was going to a friend's. He didn't question it.

She texted Christian only one word: Where?

The reply came instantly: Old warehouse. 10 PM.

As she drove to the outskirts of town, Hailey's heart pounded so loud she could barely hear the engine.

The warehouse loomed in the darkness like a forgotten ruin. One single light glowed inside, spilling from a broken window.

She stepped through the rusted metal door, and there he was-leaning against a concrete pillar, dressed in black, eyes fixed on her.

"Welcome, Hailey," he said, voice low, dangerous. "I see you're eager to learn."

She crossed the distance between them slowly, unable to look away from him.

"I want the truth," she said. "Everything."

Christian walked toward her, closing the space until they were almost touching. He smelled like spice and smoke and sin.

"Truth," he echoed. "That's a dangerous thing to want."

"I don't care."

"You should."

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her cheek. Her breath caught.

"I warned you," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "But you keep walking into the dark."

Hailey's skin tingled. "I'm not afraid of you."

Christian smiled, slow and wicked. "Liar."

Before she could answer, he turned and walked deeper into the shadows. She followed him through a metal door, down a narrow hallway that reeked of oil and dust.

Inside a smaller room, a table waited. Stacks of old files. Newspaper clippings. Photographs. Documents.

Hailey's heart stopped.

"These are your answers," Christian said.

She stepped forward, her eyes scanning everything. Her family's name on legal forms she'd never seen. Land deeds. Police reports. One document had her father's signature on it-next to that of Luciano Russo.

"My grandfather," Christian said. "And your father's worst mistake."

"What happened between them?" Hailey whispered.

Christian paused. "My grandfather died because of a deal your father made. Or broke. Depends who you ask."

Hailey felt sick.

"You think you know your family, Hailey. But you only know the version they let you see."

She looked up at him. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Because you deserve to know what you're walking into." His eyes darkened. "And because I want you to choose. Before someone else chooses for you."

Suddenly, the door behind them slammed shut.

Hailey jumped. Christian's jaw clenched.

"What was that?" she asked.

"We're not alone," he said.

A sound echoed-footsteps.

Christian grabbed her arm and yanked her into the shadows behind a metal shelving unit just as the door creaked open again.

Three men stepped inside. One was tall and broad, wearing a leather jacket. The second had a scar down his cheek. The third-Hailey recognized him.

Vincent Russo. Christian's cousin.

She turned to Christian. His face was stone.

"They followed you," he whispered. "I told you not to come here."

The men spoke in low voices. Christian strained to hear.

"...boss says she's digging," Scarface muttered.

"Girl's got nerve," Vincent replied. "Too much of it. Like her old man."

The words made Hailey go cold.

Christian's hand tightened on her wrist. "We need to go. Now."

But it was too late.

"Christian," Vincent called out, voice oily. "We know you're here."

Christian stood slowly, pulling Hailey behind him. "Back off, Vincent."

Vincent laughed. "I was hoping you'd make this messy."

Hailey's stomach twisted. Christian's hand slipped into his jacket. She realized-he was armed.

"You're going to protect her?" Vincent sneered. "After what her family did?"

Christian didn't flinch. "She's not her father."

Scarface moved suddenly-reaching for something.

A flash of movement.

A gun cocking.

Christian shoved Hailey behind him just as a shot rang out-