Chapter 2 2

The morning came with a gray, reluctant dawn. Rain tapped gently against the bulletproof glass windows of the black SUV as it glided through Lower Manhattan. Inside, the tension was thick.

Sandy Rhune sat beside Tino Knightly, her gaze locked on the screen of her phone. The news cycle hadn't picked up on the attack outside Nocturne, but she knew it wouldn't stay quiet for long. Power like Tino's left ripples in every pond.

"Are you sure this contact of yours will talk?" she asked, eyes flicking toward him.

Tino didn't look at her. His attention was on the passing streets, on the rhythm of the city he ruled like a silent god. "He's a broker. They only talk when they're scared. And right now, he's terrified."

Sandy studied him in profile-the chiseled jaw, the scar at his temple, the perpetual calm behind his storm-colored eyes. She hated herself for noticing.

They turned onto Park Row, near the old court buildings. The driver, a silent man with a neck tattoo of a crowned dagger, pulled into a nondescript parking garage. Tino stepped out first, scanning the structure, then motioned for Sandy to follow.

They climbed to the rooftop.

There, waiting by a blacked-out Lincoln, was a man in a slick gray suit, hands trembling as he lit a cigarette. Gavin Moore, once a Wall Street informant, now reduced to a shadow courier who traded whispers for safety.

"You brought a reporter?" Gavin's voice cracked. "You trying to get us all killed?"

"She's not just a reporter," Tino said. "She's family."

Sandy's heart jumped at the words. Family? That meant something in the underworld. Something dangerous.

"I came here because I need the truth," she said. "Not rumors. Not half-measures."

Gavin blew smoke out of his nose. "Then you better be ready for what you find."

He pulled a flash drive from his coat and tossed it to Tino. "Encrypted files. Names. Drop locations. Communications logs. Some of them trace back to a ghost. Drazen."

Tino's shoulders stiffened.

Sandy frowned. "Victor Drazen?"

"Yeah," Gavin muttered. "And if he's back, that means bodies are going to start piling up."

Tino clenched his jaw. "Why now?"

"Because your empire's grown too big, Knightly. And too clean. That makes you a threat to the chaos he thrives on."

Before Tino could respond, a sharp crack echoed across the rooftop.

Gavin dropped.

Blood sprayed across the concrete.

Sandy screamed as Tino shoved her to the ground and drew his gun in a single, fluid motion. Another shot rang out, sparking against the steel pillar just inches from where Gavin had been standing.

"Sniper!" Tino barked into his comm. "Northeast roofline-glass building, sixth floor. Find him!"

The rooftop erupted into motion. Knightly's men emerged from stairwells, weapons drawn. Sandy crawled toward the Lincoln's rear wheel, her chest heaving.

Tino crouched beside her, grabbing her hand. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," she stammered. "Gavin... he's dead."

"And that's the cleanest ending he could've gotten," Tino growled.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

"Time to move," he muttered, dragging Sandy back toward the garage stairwell. His men fell in behind them, guns raised, as the sniper fire fell silent.

-

Back at the safehouse, the tension boiled.

Tino paced the room like a panther, while Rocca worked on decrypting the flash drive Gavin had handed over seconds before his death.

Sandy sat on the couch, hands still trembling.

"Who the hell is this Drazen?" she finally asked. "Everyone's terrified of him, but I can't find a single photo, not even on the deep web."

Rocca answered without looking up. "That's because he doesn't leave traces. No fingerprints, no paper trails. Just ashes. He used to work with Tino... years ago, when the Syndicate was still crawling. But he wanted to weaponize it. Tino wanted to organize it."

Tino spoke from the shadows. "He wanted chaos. I wanted control. We both got what we wanted-until I tried to cut him out."

"And he retaliated?" Sandy asked.

Tino's eyes met hers. "He disappeared. Until now."

The computer beeped. Rocca leaned forward. "I've got names. One of them is inside our own system."

He paused. "You're not gonna like it."

"Say it," Tino ordered.

"Salvatore Penn. Your logistics captain."

Tino's expression darkened. "He's been with me ten years."

"And he's been leaking routes and ops to Drazen for at least six months."

Sandy stood. "That's your mole."

"And I need him alive," Tino said.

Rocca looked up. "That's gonna be hard. He went off-grid three hours ago. Took a private jet to Milan. I've already pinged Interpol."

Sandy stepped closer to Tino. "So what now?"

He turned to her, jaw set. "Now we hunt."

-

That night, Sandy found herself standing on the terrace of Tino's high-rise penthouse. Below, the city lights flickered like dying stars. Behind her, the glass doors were cracked open. She could hear the soft clink of ice in crystal as Tino poured two drinks.

He joined her, handing her a glass of dark amber.

"Whiskey," he said. "Irish. A favorite of your brother's."

Sandy accepted it silently.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Why are you really helping me?" she asked, not looking at him.

"I owed Cole more than I could ever repay," Tino said quietly. "But I'm also tired, Sandy. Tired of burying people I care about. Tired of pretending the empire I built isn't bleeding from the inside."

"And me?"

Tino turned toward her. "You're not what I expected. You're bold. Sharp. Reckless. But there's something else."

She met his eyes. "What?"

"You remind me of the part of myself I buried to survive."

That confession hung between them, electric and fragile.

"You're not the monster I thought you were," she said, her voice softer now.

"Don't be so sure," he replied, stepping closer. "The monster still lives here."

But when he leaned in, the moment shifted. It wasn't violence or intimidation in his gaze.

It was want.

And to Sandy's surprise, it echoed in her own chest.

She stepped back, pulse racing. "I should go to bed."

He nodded, but the tension lingered.

As she turned away, Tino looked out over the city again.

Tomorrow, they would chase the ghost.

But tonight, he let himself wonder:

Was he protecting Sandy Rhune because she was Cole's sister...

...or because she was waking up something in him that no empire ever could?

Sleep didn't come easily. Not for Sandy. She lay in the guest room of Tino's penthouse, staring at the ceiling, the city's lights cutting faint patterns across the walls. The events of the last twenty-four hours raced through her mind-the ambush, Gavin's death, Tino's revelations, and the way his eyes lingered when he thought she wasn't looking.

She hated the war happening in her chest. This wasn't supposed to be personal. She'd come for justice, not... complications.

But somehow, Tino Knightly had slipped through the cracks in her armor. Not completely, not yet. But enough to make her question how far she'd be willing to go for the truth-and what it might cost her if she started to care.

A soft knock on the door broke her thoughts.

She sat up. "Yes?"

It creaked open slightly. Tino stood in the doorway, not in his usual suit but in a black T-shirt and dark slacks. Even relaxed, he radiated the kind of power that filled the room like smoke.

"Couldn't sleep," he said simply.

"Me neither."

He stepped in, carefully. "I thought you might want to see this."

He handed her a tablet.

On the screen was surveillance footage-grainy but clear enough. A private hangar. A man boarding a jet. Salvatore Penn.

"He was smiling," Sandy murmured, rewinding the clip. "He's not running scared. He's running confident."

"Which means Drazen gave him protection. Or a promise," Tino said. "Either way, he won't stay hidden forever."

Sandy handed it back. "And when you find him?"

"I'll let you ask your questions," Tino said, voice low. "Then I'll handle him my way."

She studied him. "That doesn't sound like justice."

He met her gaze. "That sounds like survival."

She understood then- Tino's world didn't operate by laws or ideals. It lived and died by rules of blood, loyalty, and consequence. It was savage, but it was honest.

"Was there ever a time," she asked softly, "when you thought you could get out of this life?"

He gave a small, almost bitter smile. "There was a girl, once. I was eighteen. Her name was Lucia. She worked in a bookstore, used to give me novels to read. Said they'd remind me that there was more to life than shadows."

Sandy blinked. "What happened to her?"

"She died," Tino said quietly. "A message from my father's enemies. I stopped reading after that."

Sandy's throat tightened. "I'm sorry."

Tino shrugged, though the movement looked forced. "It's the price of the throne. Everyone I love ends up dead, or damaged."

He turned to leave, but paused at the door. "But you... you're different."

"How?"

"You don't need saving." He looked at her, really looked. "You're dangerous in your own way."

She felt it too- that crackling line between them, like a live wire stretching thinner by the moment.

"Tino..." she said, unsure if she was warning him or herself.

He gave her a faint nod. "Goodnight, Sandy."

And then he was gone.

---

The next morning arrived with a storm. Rain slashed against the penthouse windows as Sandy joined Tino in the kitchen, where he stood in front of a massive digital map sprawled across one wall. Red pins blinked along European cities. Milan. Naples. Prague. The Syndicate's hidden arteries.

"We got a ping," Rocca said from across the room. "Penn's burner phone connected to a tower in Zurich six hours ago. Interpol is slow-walking it. I've got one of our units in Switzerland already tracking down the landing spot."

"Zurich?" Sandy asked, sipping the black coffee Tino had handed her. "What's there?"

Tino's eyes narrowed. "A safehouse used only for high-level cleanings. Usually before full identity wipes."

"Meaning Penn plans to disappear," Sandy said.

"Meaning we have less than 48 hours to stop him."

Tino turned to Rocca. "Get the jet ready. We're wheels up in an hour."

Rocca nodded and vanished.

Sandy hesitated. "You're taking me with you?"

"I'm not leaving you behind. Not with Drazen still gunning for you."

"And you trust me?" she asked.

"No," he said honestly. "But I respect you. That's more dangerous."

She stared at him, pulse tapping under her skin. "What happens when this is over?"

Tino paused. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

She nodded, setting down the coffee. "Then let's finish what we started."

---

The jet was sleek, silent, and armed with more surveillance equipment than a government bunker. Tino sat across from Sandy as they flew over the Atlantic, files spread between them, every piece of intel pointing to a wider network of corruption.

Sandy noticed a photo- a woman in her mid-forties, elegant, sharp-eyed.

"Who's she?"

Tino didn't answer immediately. "Evelyn Drazen. Victor's sister. Runs a pharmaceutical front in Liechtenstein. But rumor has it she launders money for mercenaries across Europe."

"She's the gatekeeper."

"She's the queen," he corrected. "And Victor is her knight."

Sandy frowned. "So we take them both down?"

Tino leaned forward. "We don't 'take down' people like them, Sandy. We dismantle them, piece by piece, until they've got nowhere left to run. It's a long game."

She exhaled, eyes heavy. "I'm in."

He reached out, fingers grazing hers for just a second-enough to ground her. Enough to confuse everything inside her.

"Get some sleep," he said.

She nodded. But neither of them slept.

They just stared into the dark, flying straight toward the storm.