Ezra's POV
Lover? Dante's voice explodes through the warehouse. What the fuck are you talking about?
The gun barrel digs harder into my skull. I can't breathe. Can't think. Marco just called me his lover in front of armed criminals, and I have no idea if this makes things better or infinitely worse.
Marco's hand stays gentle on my face, but his eyes hold a warning so clear it might as well be written in blood: play along or die.
Exactly what I said. Marco's voice carries absolute authority despite the insanity of his words. Ezra is mine. Has been for three months. I brought him here tonight because he needed to understand what I really do.
You're gay? One of the other men sounds disgusted. Your father will—
My father will deal with it when I'm ready to tell him. Marco's tone drops to something deadly. Not before. And if any of you breathe a word about this before I say so, I'll personally make sure you regret it. Are we clear?
Silence. The kind that feels like everyone stopped breathing at once.
Dante's grip on me loosens slightly. Boss, this is suicide. Don Giovanni will kill you both if he finds out.
Then I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Marco steps closer, his body almost touching mine. Ezra got scared when he saw the execution. He ran. That's all that happened here tonight.
My brain finally catches up to what's happening. Marco Vitale—heir to Chicago's most powerful crime family, just claimed me as his secret boyfriend to save my life. Which means his father is violently homophobic. Which means Marco just risked everything to protect a random witness.
Why?
Look at me, Marco murmurs, and I realize he's talking to me now, not his men.
I meet his eyes. They're dark brown, almost black in the dim light, and completely unreadable.
You're terrified, he says softly. I understand. But you need to trust me right now. Can you do that?
Trust the man who just murdered someone in cold blood? The man who's either saving my life or playing some twisted game I don't understand?
I nod because what choice do I have?
Marco's lips curve into something almost like a real smile. Then he leans in and kisses me.
My entire world stops.
His mouth is warm and firm against mine, tasting like expensive whiskey and danger. The kiss is gentle but possessive, like he's claiming me in front of witnesses. My heart pounds so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it.
When he pulls back, I'm shaking for entirely different reasons.
There, Marco says, still close enough that I feel his breath. Now they believe it.
Dante removes the gun from my head. I nearly collapse, but Marco catches me, arm wrapping around my waist.
Get rid of Tony's body, Marco orders. Clean this place completely. And remember—nobody knows about Ezra until I say otherwise. If my father hears about this before I'm ready, I'll know exactly who talked.
The men scatter immediately, moving with practiced efficiency. Within seconds, they're dragging the corpse away, and I'm trying very hard not to throw up.
Can you walk? Marco asks quietly.
I don't know. My voice sounds hollow, distant, like it belongs to someone else.
Try. We need to leave before anyone else shows up.
He guides me toward a black SUV parked near the warehouse entrance. My legs move automatically, carrying me forward even though my brain has completely shut down. This isn't real. Can't be real. I'm going to wake up in my cramped apartment and realize this was all a nightmare.
Except the blood on Marco's collar is real. The way his hand grips my elbow is real. The dead man I just watched him execute is horrifyingly, permanently real.
Marco opens the passenger door and helps me inside. The interior smells like leather and expensive cologne. He slides into the driver's seat and starts the engine without a word.
We drive in silence through Chicago's dark streets. I stare out the window, watching familiar buildings blur past, and try to understand what just happened.
Where are we going? I finally manage to ask.
My apartment. Marco doesn't look at me, eyes fixed on the road. You'll stay there tonight. We'll figure out the rest tomorrow.
I can just go home. I won't tell anyone what I saw. I swear
No. The word is final. You witnessed a murder. In my world, witnesses disappear. The only reason you're breathing right now is because I claimed you as mine.
The truth of that statement hits me like ice water. I'm only alive because of the lie Marco told. Which means I'm completely at his mercy.
Why? The question bursts out before I can stop it. Why did you save me?
Marco is quiet for so long I think he won't answer. Then: I don't know.
The honesty in those three words is somehow more terrifying than anything else tonight.
We pull into an underground parking garage attached to a glass skyscraper in downtown Chicago. Marco parks in a spot marked RESERVED - PENTHOUSE and cuts the engine.
Listen carefully, he says, turning to face me. From this moment on, your life has changed. You're going to move into my apartment. You're going to quit your jobs. You're going to let your old life disappear.
What? No! I have school, I have friends, I have
You have a role to play if you want to survive. Marco's voice isn't cruel, just matter-of-fact. Starting now, you're my secret lover. We've been together for three months. I've been hiding you from my family because my father would kill us both if he knew. You understand what that means?
My throat closes. You're going to tell your father? The one who'll kill you?
Eventually. When I'm ready. Marco reaches out and cups my face again, the gesture strangely gentle. My father is Don Giovanni Vitale. He runs this city. He's also the most dangerous man you'll ever meet, and he hates people like me. Like us.
But you're not, we're not actually
No. But he won't know that. Marco's thumb brushes my cheekbone. You're going to help me sell this lie, Ezra. You're going to be so convincing that even my father believes we're in love. Because if he suspects for one second that this is fake...
He doesn't finish, but he doesn't need to.
And if I refuse? I whisper.
Marco's expression doesn't change. Then I drive you back to that warehouse and let Dante finish what he started.
The casual way he says it, like he's discussing the weather, makes my blood run cold.
So what's it going to be? Marco asks. Do you want to live?
I think about my parents in Seattle who barely notice I exist. My thesis that suddenly seems meaningless. Jordan, my best friend, who's the only person who'd actually miss me.
I think about the gun pressed to my temple and the cold certainty in Dante's eyes.
I think about Marco's kiss and the way he looked at me in the warehouse—like I mattered, even if I don't understand why.
Yes, I breathe. I want to live.
Good. Marco releases my face and opens his door. Then from now on, you're mine. In public, in private, every single moment. You belong to me, Ezra Chen. And that's the only thing keeping you alive.
He steps out of the car, expecting me to follow.
I sit frozen, staring at my hands, trying to process that my entire life just ended and somehow started again in the same breath.
Finally, I force myself to move. To follow this beautiful, terrifying stranger who holds my life in his blood-stained hands.
Marco waits by the elevator, watching me with those unreadable dark eyes.
One more thing, he says as I reach him. Tomorrow morning, my father is going to summon us. He'll want to meet you, to see if this relationship is real.
The elevator doors open. Marco steps inside.
So tonight, you're going to tell me everything about yourself—every detail, every story, every secret. Because when Don Giovanni Vitale asks you questions, your answers better be perfect.
I step into the elevator on shaking legs.
And if they're not?
The doors slide shut, trapping us in a small metal box together.
Marco's smile is sharp as a knife.
Then we'll both be dead by noon.