Chương 1 - The Black Mercedes
The scarred guard from the diner stepped out of the black Mercedes.
Rain was still falling across the neon-lit streets of Queens, exactly as it had been three nights ago.
He did not look like a man who wanted a cup of burnt coffee.
He walked through the glass doors of the diner, the entry bell chiming a cheerful sound that felt entirely out of place.
Tommy, my manager, dropped a heavy stack of laminated menus directly onto the linoleum floor.
The guard ignored the loud clatter and walked straight toward my section in the back.
I tightened my grip on the damp rag in my hands, trying to suppress the sudden tremor in my fingers.
"Dante Caruso would like to speak with you," the guard stated.
His voice sounded like grinding stones in a dark alley.
"I am working," I replied, forcing my voice to remain steady.
"My shift does not end for another four hours."
Tommy practically sprinted over to our booth, his face pale and shining with cold sweat.
"She is off the clock," Tommy stammered rapidly.
"Take her, she is fired anyway."
I stared at Tommy in absolute shock.
"You cannot fire me just because a terrifying man walked in the door," I argued.
"I just did," Tommy hissed, avoiding my eyes entirely.
"Get out of my diner before you get us all killed, Clare."
The scarred guard extended a massive hand toward the exit.
"The car is waiting, Miss Murphy."
I had no job, no money, and absolutely no choice in the matter.
I slowly took off my stained yellow apron, threw it onto the counter, and walked out into the freezing rain.
The guard opened the heavy rear door of the armored Mercedes for me.
I fully expected to see Dante Caruso sitting in the luxurious leather interior.
The back seat was completely empty.
Before I could turn around to ask where he was, the guard shoved me hard into the vehicle.
The heavy door slammed shut behind me, the locks engaging with a heavy, metallic thud.
The driver immediately hit the gas, speeding away from the only life I had ever known.
A small television screen mounted on the back of the passenger seat suddenly flickered to life.
Dante Caruso was looking at me through the screen, his dark eyes cold, calculating, and impossible to read.
"Hello, Clare," he said softly, his Italian accent sending a shiver down my spine.
"I told you I was going to change your life."
I grabbed the door handle, but it was entirely dead.
"Where are you taking me?" I demanded, my voice finally shaking.
"To pay your debts," Dante replied smoothly.
"The loan sharks who own your late mother's hospital bills just sold your contract to me."
My blood ran completely cold.
"What do you mean?" I gasped.
"I mean you belong to me now," Dante said, a dangerous curve appearing on his lips.
The screen went black just as a deafening explosion violently shook the Mercedes.
May you like
I turned around to look through the heavily tinted rear window.
The diner I had worked in for three years was completely engulfed in a massive ball of orange fire.
