Chapter 5 NOT ACCORDING TO PLAN

RENZO'S POV

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Pain has a twisted sense of humor. It likes to show up when you've got nothing left to laugh with.

Like now.

I was flat on my back in a half-rotted shed, ribs howling, side bleeding, and face covered in dirt. Not the poetic kind either the gritty, wet kind that makes you question all your life choices.

Somewhere back there, gunfire had cut through the night like a bad breakup text. But now, all I could hear was my own breathing and the steady, stupid beat of my heart reminding me that I'd lived.

Barely.

And this? This was not how it was supposed to go.

Ariana should've been gone by now. Out. Safe. Racing toward some distant skyline. Not dragged off while I bled into the pavement.

But plans are funny things. They never survive contact with real life.

---

Nevio's downfall hadn't been fate or misfortune.

I made it happen.

Fed him sugar-coated loans and too-good-to-be-true deals until he was in deep enough to drown. Every contract, every handshake, carefully arranged like dominos.

And when the final one fell?

He offered his daughter.

No hesitation. No shame. Just a shrug and a signature.

Ariana became the debt.

And Leone? He took the bait just as I knew he would.

Men like him don't say no to beauty. Especially not when it comes gift-wrapped in desperation.

I played the long game. I waited, watched, and delivered her right into the lion's den. And while she was catching her breath and wondering why life hated her, I was already cracking open Leone's world from the inside.

But then she looked at me like I was more than a monster. Like I might be a way out.

And that's when I stopped thinking straight.

---

She trusted me. Ran to me. Held onto my sleeve like I was her whole escape plan.

And I let her.

Because deep down, I wanted to be that guy. Just for her.

But the streets don't care about your inner softness. They care about control.

Someone had watched me set the table, and just when I lifted the lid for the main course they flipped the whole damn table over.

Three men. Guns. Boots. Loud, reckless, stupid.

And wrong tattoos and outfit

They weren't Leone's. Not a chance.

Leone's men? They're clean-cut assassins. They don't yell. They don't shoot unless it's necessary. They slip in, get it done, and vanish like polite nightmares.

These guys? They kicked doors. Shouted names. Nearly tripped over each other. One of them shouted Ariana's name so loud he probably startled the moon.

And yet... they knew her.

They came for her.

That made them dangerous. Not because they were skilled. But because they were intentional.

---

I barely escaped with my life. A slice across my ribs, a cracked phone, and about two-thirds of my pride left somewhere in that alley.

The old maintenance shed near the orchard had been forgotten by everyone except me. I collapsed inside, fumbled for the go-bag, and bandaged myself with one hand while the other gripped the table leg just to stay upright.

There was vodka in the bag. Bless that bottle. It burned like betrayal.

Ariana probably thinks I sold her out.

Honestly? I deserved that look she gave me before the chaos swallowed her up.

But I hadn't sold her. Not this time.

I was trying to save her. For real. Not because it helped my plan, but because she was starting to matter more than the mission.

And that's when things usually start to go wrong.

---

The burner phone I kept for emergencies buzzed.

I glanced down. One new message. No contact ID.

> "You're not the only one who wants her."

I froze.

Not because it was threatening. But because it was true.

Someone else was playing the game.

And I hadn't seen them coming.

Whoever sent that knew exactly what Ariana meant. Not just to me, but to Leone. And maybe to something bigger.

They were watching. Close enough to know when to strike. Smart enough to send amateurs in fast and loud so it couldn't be traced.

And bold enough to message me.

No name, no clue, just a gut-punch of a sentence.

"You're not the only one who wants her."

And maybe worse? They were right.

---

I leaned back, ribs wrapped tight in blood-soaked bandages, and let my head fall against the shed wall.

Somewhere out there, Ariana was back in Leone's grip.

She wouldn't know that the ambush wasn't his doing.

She wouldn't know that I took a blade for her. That I killed one of those bastards before they dragged her away.

She probably thought I vanished like every other liar in her life.

But this wasn't over.

Not for her. Not for me.

Someone else wanted her.

That meant she was more than leverage.

She was valuable.

And I hate it when I don't know why.

Morning light trickled through the cracks in the wood. The orchard outside rustled quietly. I forced myself to stand, groaning like an old man.

I stuffed the burner into my coat and slung the bag over my shoulder.

I had a war to finish.

And it was no longer just personal revenge.

Someone had turned Ariana into a prize.

Now it was my turn to find out who they were.

And what they'd started.