Chapter 3 Three

Alexa's POV

By the time I walk back into the dining room, Mom and Jackson are still seated at the long table, leaning toward each other, laughing like they're the only two people in the world.

Their smiles are so wide, so easy, it almost hurts to look at them. For a second, I hesitate at the doorway. If I stand here any longer, I might actually choke on all the happiness floating around this room.

I clear my throat and step forward. "Mom," I say carefully, "I need to head out for a bit. I left some of my books with Rodney."

Mom's brows pull together, worry flickering across her face, but before she can say anything, Jackson is already responding. "I'll send one of my men to go with you," he offers smoothly, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Panic rises in me. The last thing I want is some bodyguard shadowing me. "That won't be necessary," I say quickly, waving my hand. "Rodney couldn't hurt a fly. He's harmless." I force a laugh, thinking of his stammering voice and those thick glasses that constantly slide down his nose.

Jackson studies me for a moment, his gaze steady, assessing, and then he shrugs. "Suit yourself."

Mom still looks uneasy. "It's past seven, Alexa. Don't stay out too long."

"I won't." I give her a smile, one that feels more like a performance than anything genuine, and grab my purse before either of them can change their minds.

The moment I step outside, cool night air rushes over me, sharp and heavy with the smell of rain. I pull out my phone and dial Rodney, but it rings and rings without an answer. A second later, my screen lights up with a text. "Can't talk. Meet me here." There's an address attached, one I don't recognize.

I frown. It's not far but its still weird, I shrug, it's

fine. I'll grab my stuff and come straight back.

The bigger problem is finding a cab. Jackson's mansion is tucked away on spiraling roads with barely any streetlights. My shoes scuff against uneven pavement as I walk toward the main road, irritation building with every step.

And then I hear it.

A scream.

High-pitched and raw and it slices through the quiet night.

I freeze, my heart pounding. The street is empty, and I know i should ignore it, I know I should. But my body moves anyway, my feet dragging me toward the sound, like curiosity has taken over my survival instincts.

The noise seems to come from a thicket of bushes lining the road. I shove branches aside, and that's when I see it, an old metal hatch, almost hidden under vines.

"No. Absolutely not." I mutter to myself

Except my hand is already pulling it open, the rusty hinge screeching in protest.

I climb down the ladder, every metal rung is cold against my palms. The air shifts instantly, damp, stale, filled with smoke that lingers in the air. A weak glow flickers at the far end of the tunnel, and my footsteps echo against stone as I inch forward.

Another scream cuts through the darkness, closer this time.

I slap my hands over my ears, shivering, but I don't stop walking. Whoever that is, they need help.

The glow leads me to a door cracked just enough for voices to spill through. I press myself against the wall and peek inside.

A man is tied to a chair, beaten to a bloody mess.

Another man wearing a sharp suit and an air of authority, circles him like a predator. Four others stand silently at the edges, guarding.

"Did you think you would enter my boarders and try to be some mole for him without me finding out?" the man in the suit asks, his voice like steel. "I have men everywhere. There is nowhere you can hide."

The prisoner shakes his head, words spilling out desperate and cracked. "Please-I've always been loyal. I swear, I didn't-"

The man in the suit sighs. Bored. Like he's heard it all before. Then, without hesitation, he pulls out a gun and fires.

The sound rips through the tunnel like thunder.

I stumble back, clamping both hands over my mouth to smother the scream clawing its way up my throat.

The prisoner slumps, his body not lifeless.

My body is trembling so hard I can barely move, but panic shoves me backward. My foot hits an empty bottle, the clatter echoing so loud it feels like the whole tunnel shakes.

The man in the suit snaps his head up. His eyes narrow. "Find that intruder!"

Terror surges through me. I turn and bolt, sprinting for the hatch, lungs burning, legs barely holding me upright.

And then I hear the deep voice.

"Take one more step and you're dead."

The command freezes me. I lift my shaking hands slowly, my breath ragged, fear clawing its way down my spine.

"Turn around."

I obey, my heart hammering, every nerve in my body screaming.

At least a dozen guns are aimed straight at me.

"A girl?" one man mutters.

The suited man sneers. "Spy or not, I don't care. Shoot her."

The world tilts. My knees threaten to give out as several guns lift higher, ready-

But then chaos erupts.

A canister rolls across the floor, bursts open, and thick smoke fills the room. The air burns my throat and stings my eyes. Men shout, cough, stumble blind.

A hand grabs mine in the fog, strong, urgent.

"Come with me," a low, steady and familiar voice whispers back at me

I don't think, I just follow. He pulls me through the smoke, down a narrow corridor stacked with crates. He flicks a switch, dim light flooding the chamber.

My pulse spikes when I catch the figure beside me, head to toe in black, face hidden behind a mask.

He shoves boxes aside, clearing the way to a barricaded exit. "Help me," he mutters, voice strained.

That voice. I know that voice.

Adrenaline surges, and I throw myself against the crates with him until the path clears. Heavy footsteps close in from behind. He kicks the door open, drags me through, and slams it shut behind us.

Cool night air rushes over me. Relief is short-lived. He pulls a grenade from his bag, lobs it back inside, and the explosion shakes the ground beneath us.

We run. Branches whip against my arms as the mansion's distant lights come into view. My lungs ache, but I don't dare stop.

Finally, when he slows, he yanks the mask off.

My heart almost stops.

Baron.

"You?" My voice cracks, disbelief tangled with fear.

His scowl is sharp, his tone sharper. "Do you go looking for trouble just so I can save you?"

Anger flares hot, cutting through the fear. "How did you even know I was there?"

"I knew the Skull gang was meeting tonight." He adjusts the strap of his bag like he's talking about the weather. "And I heard you were seeing your friend, so I followed."

The Skull gang. My chest tightens at the way he says it, very casual, and familiar.

"You knew them?" My voice rises. "You just said their name like you've always known who they are. That means you either work with them or-"

"Or what?" His tone is flat, dangerous.

"Or you belong to them," I whisper.

He stares at me, unreadable. Then slowly, he reaches into his jacket.

I freeze as he pulls out a gun, the moonlight glinting off the barrel.

My pulse spikes in terror. "Baron, why do you even have that?"

His gaze hardens, his voice low and lethal. "Because what I'm about to tell you could cost you your life. You need to take this seriously, Alexa."

My throat goes dry. "What are you saying?"

He raises the gun slightly, but not at me, just enough to make his point clear.

"I belong to the Mafia."