Page 36 of Bound to the Enforcer

"Your turn."

I take a deep breath, forcing down the fear clawing at my throat. Then I run. The edge comes faster than I expect, and for a second, I'm airborne—weightless, breathless—before my feet hit solid ground. I stumble forward, Alessio catching me before I can fall.

"Not bad," he mutters, helping me to my feet.

"Don't sound so surprised," I shoot back, brushing dust from my hands.

He almost smirks, but the moment passes as the sound of shouting rises again. Flashlights sweep toward the rooftops.

"We need to keep moving," Alessio says.

Together, we disappear into the night, leaving the warehouse and Domenico's men behind. The ache in my legs, the burn in my chest—it's all worth it. Because as I glance at Alessio, his face set in determination, I know we've struck a blow tonight.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't clean. But we survived.

We find the car and make our way from the area.

This fight isn't over. Not by a long shot.

Chapter Eleven

Sophia

The city lights blur outside the car window, streaks of yellow and white slicing through the dark. I'm exhausted, my body heavy with the ache of everything we've been through, but I force myself to stay alert. Every corner we turn, every shadow we pass feels like a threat.

Alessio's hands grip the wheel, knuckles faintly pale against the leather. He hasn't said much since we left the warehouse, and his silence is starting to wear on me.

"You're bleeding," I say finally.

"It's fine," he mutters, not taking his eyes off the road.

"That's what you always say," I shoot back, glancing at his arm. The sleeve of his jacket is torn, the fabric dark with blood. "You're not indestructible, you know."

He exhales slowly, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

I don't answer. I can't. Because he's right, and that terrifies me more than I want to admit. We've been dancing on a knife'sedge for days now, and I know one wrong step could send everything crashing down.

Alessio takes a sharp turn, pulling onto a narrow street lined with tall apartment buildings. The city feels different here—quiet, forgotten, as if it's holding its breath. He slows the car in front of a building that looks like every other one on the block: plain, gray, unremarkable.

"This is it," he says, killing the engine.

I step out of the car, the pavement cold beneath my boots. The street is nearly empty, save for a couple of flickering streetlights and the distant rumble of traffic. Alessio grabs the bags from the backseat and nods toward the entrance.

The inside of the building isn't much better. The narrow hallway smells faintly of bleach and something stale, the fluorescent lights buzzing softly above us. We take the stairs to the third floor, Alessio moving with his usual quiet purpose, his eyes scanning every corner like he's expecting something to jump out at us.

"This place looks... cozy," I say, trying to inject some lightness into the moment as he unlocks the door.

The apartment is small and sparse. Beige walls, a dark couch, and a tiny kitchen with a fridge that hums a little too loudly. A single window overlooks the street below, the glass faintly smudged.

"It'll do," Alessio says, dropping the bags by the door.

I step inside and shrug off my jacket, trying not to let the tension in my shoulders settle in too deep. "How long do you think we'll stay here?"

"As long as we need to," he replies, walking to the window. He pulls back the curtain just enough to glance outside before letting it drop again.

There's something about the way he moves, the quiet calculation in his every step, that makes me pause.

"You've done this before," I say softly.

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