Page 42 of Dangerous Beginnings

Every step you take without me is borrowed time, Isabella. And time always runs out.

I stare at the screen, my vision blurring as the air in the room feels heavier. My chest tightens, and I look at Lexi, still asleep, blissfully unaware of the storm raging in my life.

The phone slips from my trembling fingers onto the bed, and I clutch my chest, struggling to catch my breath. His words feel alive, crawling under my skin and burrowing deep into the parts of me I don’t want to acknowledge. A maelstrom of emotions crashes over me, each wave threatening to pull me under.

Fear. It’s the strongest, the one that takes hold first, sinking its claws into me. The sheer audacity of his control, the way he claims me with every syllable, leaves me feeling exposed, hunted. My pulse pounds in my ears, and I can’t shake the terrifying thought that maybe he’s right—that no matter how fast I run or how far I go, he’ll always be there. Watching. Waiting.

But it’s not just fear. Something darker twists in the pit of my stomach, something I hate myself for even acknowledging. His words have a gravity that pulls me in, as if the danger he represents has an allure I can’t resist. It’s intoxicating in the worst way. The threat, the possessiveness—it should repulse me. Itdoesrepulse me. Yet, deep inside, a flicker of something more stirs.

Anger rises next, hot and sharp, a desperate attempt to combatthe overwhelming tide of fear and intrigue. I can’t let him dictate my life. I shouldn’t feel like this—weak, cornered, small. But the anger is fleeting, quickly smothered by the cold realization of how tightly he already has me ensnared.

I pace the room, running a hand through my hair as my breathing quickens. The air feels heavy, suffocating, and no matter how much I try to rationalize, to convince myself that he’s just a man—a man I should run far, far away from—it doesn’t help. His voice, his presence, lingers in my mind like a shadow I can’t shake.

I hate him for it. I hate myself more.

The thought of defiance creeps in, a whisper of rebellion that feels like a lifeline. I grab the phone, staring at his last message, my thumb hovering over the screen. But I can’t do it. I can’t reply. What would I even say? The leash metaphor digs into my mind, and I wonder if I’ve already let him tighten it around my throat.

Lexi stirs behind me, murmuring softly in her sleep, and I glance at her peaceful face. She doesn’t know—she can’t know. If I let her in, if I share the depth of the danger I’m in, she’ll only become a target too. That thought steels me, but only slightly.

I close my eyes, but his words remain, etched into my mind, louder than my own thoughts.

A leash slackened, not removed.

The leash isn’t just his doing, I realize with a sinking heart. I provoked him, again. Part of me, the part that aches to be free yet feels drawn to his darkness, has wrapped it around my own neck. And I don’t know if I have the strength to fight it.

Chapter 27

Dare to Know

Isabella

It’s been three days, the whole weekend passed, and I haven’t heard anything from him.

I stayed with Lex the whole weekend, feeling like her place would be a better haven. I have no idea what he has been doing, and frankly, I don’t want to know.

It’s Monday, meaning I have work. Police work.

I debate whether I should go, but after an hour of debating I get dressed, putting my work vest and heels on. The same ones I had on when—I swallow the acid down, but not only acid—arousaltoo. I have not been feeling like myself. I am not like this; I am a good person. I don’t ever break a rule really and I live a normal life, untilhim. He is like a bloodsucker, stuck in my brain.

I throw my red hair into a ponytail and add a layer of mascara to my lashes. That is all for today, I honestly never wear much make-up because I’m lazy. I hate taking it off at nighttime too much.

I grab my black shoulder bag and throw it over my shoulder while unlocking the door of my apartment. Making my way through the busy New York streets I take the subway to the police department.

As soon as I reach the front door an eerie silence throws itself at me. Everyone is in the conference room, nobody is at their desks. Ada spots me and mentions for me to come. I hesitantly walk through the heavy doors of the crowded room, taking a stand in the back.

Trevor has overseen this place for over 20 years. He’s a tall man, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders that fill the doorway as he enters. His once-dark hair is now peppered with streaks of gray, but it’s still thick and combed back meticulously. His face is weathered, with sharp lines around his eyes and mouth, a testament to years of stress and hard decisions. His jaw is square, his features strong, and there’s always a stern expression etched into his face. His sharp, piercing blue eyes scan the room like he’s always calculating something, and when he speaks, it’s with authority that demands attention. When Trevor walks into a room, people listen—not just because of his title, but because he has a presence that commands respect. Whenever he shows up it usually is for serious business.

He clears his throat: ‘’Everybody take a seat. If there is an empty chair available next to you, you might need it.’’

Everyone exchanges confused looks. I stand in the back, but I have a clear view over the unfolding scene. The hushed whispers die down as everyone takes their seats, their eyes filled with anticipation. Ada motions for me to find a seat, but I remain standing.

Trevor clears his throat, his gaze scanning the room. “I have some unfortunate news, and everyone here must be aware of the situation. Over the weekend, a heinous crime was committed in the heart of our city. One that involves an unknown dangerous criminal and an associate of the most prominent New York Mafia family.”

A collective gasp ripples through the room, and my heart quickens as I exchange glances with my colleagues. His name isn’t mentioned but I know it ishim. Trevor continues, his voice measured, “The crime in question is a ruthless act, orchestrated by a man very well known in the underworld. He has ties to organized crime, as well as the New York Mafia. It seems we’re dealing with a new level of criminal here.” The room falls into astunned silence.

Trevor proceeds to share the gruesome details of the crime. My mind races. The realization hits me like a sledgehammer—I’ve become entangled with a man capable of committing unspeakable acts.

The consequences of my involvement with him suddenly loom larger than ever. As the gravity of the situation sinks in, I feel a mix of fear and regret. The room remains heavy with tension as Trevor concludes, “We’re launching a joint operation with federal agencies to dismantle the criminal network he’s associated with. That will be the first thing we will do since nobody knows anything about the man in question here. This is our best beginning shot. This is a critical moment for our department, and we need everyone’s cooperation and commitment.”

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