Emily stared at the phone in her hand like it was a live grenade.
The street outside was empty now, but the echo of those men's footsteps still crawled under her skin.
Ethan shifted, letting out a pained sound that snapped her focus back. His skin was slick with sweat, his breathing shallow. The blood on his shirt was darker now — and there was more of it.
She couldn't call an ambulance. Not with that text from Luca — Boss fresh in her mind. If the police got involved, they'd ask questions. Questions Ethan clearly didn't want answered.
Her hands shook as she scrolled through his contacts, stopping at one name with no last name — Marco. There was no photo, just a black screen where the profile picture should be.
"Lord, please guide me," she whispered, pressing the call button before she could lose her nerve.
The line picked up on the second ring. A man's voice, deep and unhurried, said, "Where is he?"
Emily froze. "W-who?"
"You have his phone. That means you're with him. Where is Ethan?"
Her throat felt dry. "He's hurt. Bad. I need help."
A pause. Then: "Send me your location. Stay put."
The line went dead.
She stared at the phone, heart pounding. She had no idea who Marco was — only that he sounded like someone used to giving orders.
Minutes later, a black SUV slid into the alley without a sound. The driver's window rolled down just enough for a pair of sharp eyes to meet hers.
"Get him in," the man said, already opening the back door.
Emily hesitated for half a heartbeat, then moved. Together, they lifted Ethan into the SUV. The man didn't ask her name, didn't ask what happened — he just drove, the city lights blurring past.
Emily sat rigid beside Ethan, her hands twisted in her lap. She'd prayed for direction… and she'd been given one.
But it led straight into the darkness Ethan came from.
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