Chapter 2 — The Abduction
Julian
The night air carried an edge sharper than usual, biting against Julian’s skin as he leaned against the sleek black car parked under a flickering streetlight. The light above him sputtered erratically, casting his shadow long and distorted across the cracked pavement. Julian barely noticed. His thoughts were wrapped around the events of the evening, tangled with an image of hazel eyes that burned with a fire most didn’t dare show him.
Morgan.
That name shouldn’t have stayed with him. But it had. Her audacity—foolish, reckless, and undeniably intriguing—had lingered like smoke in his mind. She was a complication, one he hadn’t foreseen.
She should have been forgettable. Another faceless civilian disappearing into the backdrop of a cozy coffee shop. And yet, standing there, Julian felt an unfamiliar weight pressing against his carefully constructed control. Her defiance had made her memorable. And in his world, memorable meant dangerous.
“Sir.” Luca’s voice cut through the bristling silence, firm but measured. Julian shifted his gaze to his lieutenant, noting the precision in the man’s stance. Luca was efficient, reliable. He wouldn’t fail him tonight.
“She’s alone now,” Luca continued, his voice steady. “We’ve confirmed the area. Minimal risk. No one will see a thing.”
Julian’s eyes drifted past Luca to the shadows stretching along the street. Somewhere out there, Morgan was walking, oblivious to the decision he was about to make—a choice he couldn’t seem to avoid no matter how much logic advocated otherwise. He should turn away. He should leave her to her life, let what she’d overheard dissolve into insignificance. Simplicity was always the safer option.
But simplicity wasn’t his reality. And Morgan wasn’t insignificant.
His fingers brushed along the edge of the family ring resting heavily on his hand, its gold surface cool and unyielding. The crest’s intricate design pressed into his skin like a reminder—of duty, of legacy, of the blood and oaths binding him to this life. Letting her go would risk everything. She was too sharp, too perceptive. Her curiosity had already crossed lines she didn’t even know existed.
“Make it clean,” Julian said at last, his voice cutting through the night like a blade. “No harm.”
Luca nodded, his expression betraying no hesitation. He signaled to the two men waiting in the shadows nearby. They moved soundlessly, blending into the darkness as they closed in on their target. Julian watched, feeling the weight inside him settle deeper. This wasn’t just an act of control—it was a necessity, a move on the chessboard that had to be made. Yet the tightness in his chest lingered, an ache he couldn’t quite name.
Adjusting his cufflinks with slow deliberation, he turned his gaze skyward, watching his breath curl into the cold air. He tried to shake the unease twisting inside him, but it clung stubbornly. Simplicity had never been a luxury he could afford.
*
Morgan stepped out of the coffee shop, her bag slung over her shoulder and her notebook tucked protectively against her side. The streets were unnaturally quiet, their usual hum reduced to a faint, faraway murmur. She slowed her pace, an uneasy prickle crawling up her spine. Something felt wrong.
The faint echo of footsteps trailed behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder, her pulse quickening as she spotted two men several paces back. They moved deliberately, their dark clothing melding with the shadows but not enough to be invisible. Their presence was intentional. Purposeful.
Stay calm. Morgan’s grip on her bag strap tightened, her mind racing through possibilities. Running would make her a target. But walking left her vulnerable. Her pace quickened, though she kept her movements measured. The weight of Daisy’s compass pendant swayed lightly against her chest, its cool brass grounding her as she forced herself to think.
Turning a corner, she scanned the street ahead. Empty. Streetlights cast long, faintly flickering pools of light, but there was no one in sight. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. Options—she needed options.
The footsteps behind her quickened.
She turned again, darting toward a narrow alley, her breath coming fast and shallow. Fear clawed at her thoughts, but adrenaline sharpened them. She yanked her bag higher on her shoulder, ready to swing it if she had to.
“Keep walking,” a low voice growled behind her, rough and commanding.
Morgan froze, her chest tightening as panic spiked through her. She resisted the urge to look back, her mind screaming at her to run. But she didn’t. Not yet. She gauged the street ahead, measuring every angle, every possible escape route.
They were on her too quickly.
A hand clamped down on her arm, iron-strong and unyielding. “Let go!” she hissed, twisting violently, her shoulder protesting the strain. Her bag swung hard, colliding with one man’s chest, but he barely flinched. She lashed out again, her movements wild but deliberate, a kick connecting with a shin. A grunt of pain followed, but she had no time to relish it.
Another hand seized her wrist, twisting it just enough to send a sharp jolt up her arm. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” one of the men growled, his voice thick with irritation.
Morgan’s lips curled into a snarl. “Good,” she spat, rage flaring hot enough to drown out the edges of her fear.
Her resistance only fueled their determination. One man’s arm cinched tightly around her waist, lifting her off the ground as she thrashed. Her screams were muffled by a gloved hand, the taste of leather bitter against her lips. She fought harder, her nails raking against skin, her movements frantic and unrelenting. She wouldn’t make it easy for them.
“Enough.”
The voice sliced through the chaos like a blade, calm and commanding. The men froze instantly, their grip on her tightening but their movements stilling.
Morgan turned her head toward the sound, her vision blurring with the frantic pounding of her heart. Julian emerged from the darkness, his figure bathed in the pale yellow glow of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered, sharp-featured, and coldly composed, he looked like the embodiment of control.
Her captors adjusted their hold, steadying her as he approached.
“What the hell is this?” she demanded the moment the hand over her mouth was removed, her voice raw and filled with fury.
Julian’s gray eyes locked onto hers, unflinching and unreadable. “You should have walked away,” he said simply, his tone calm but carrying an edge of finality.
“This—this is insane!” Morgan struggled harder, her breath ragged as panic clawed at her chest. “Let me go!”
Julian didn’t answer immediately. He stepped closer, his expression as cold and unwavering as the chill in the night air. With a subtle nod, one of the men pressed a cloth over her face. The sickly-sweet smell invaded her senses with brutal efficiency, drowning her protests. Her vision wavered as darkness crept in, overwhelming and inescapable. The last thing she saw before unconsciousness claimed her was Julian’s face—silent, watchful, and implacable.
*
The haze of unconsciousness lifted slowly, disjointed sounds and dim light assembling themselves into fragments of reality. Morgan stirred, her head pounding as she blinked against the muted glow of a single lamp. The room was unfamiliar—quiet, elegant, and suffocating in its stillness.
She pushed herself upright, her movements sluggish and disoriented. Her wrists were free, but the door across from her loomed, solid and forbidding. Her eyes darted around, cataloging details: the heavy curtains drawn tightly over the windows, the low table near the corner, the faint smell of leather and wood polish.
Her fingers brushed against the compass pendant still hanging around her neck. The cool brass pressed against her palm, grounding her. Daisy’s gift. A piece of her old life. She clung to it now, her thoughts spiraling as she tried to piece together what had happened.
Footsteps echoed beyond the door, precise and deliberate. Her breath hitched as the handle turned, the door swinging open to reveal Julian. He stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a shadow swallowing the light.
Morgan rose to her feet, anger sharpening her voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Ensuring your safety,” Julian replied, his tone maddeningly composed.
Her laugh was bitter, harsh. “By kidnapping me?”
Julian’s gaze flickered, but his expression remained unreadable. “You’ve crossed into a world you can’t walk away from,” he said evenly, stepping toward the window. The weight of his words settled heavily in the room. “You’re safer here than you would be out there.”
“That’s your problem, not mine,” she snapped, her voice trembling with rage.
He turned to face her, his gray eyes sharp and calculating. “Now it’s your problem too.”
Morgan’s fists clenched, her defiance surging through her fear. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you don’t get to decide what’s my problem.”
A faint, fleeting smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m Julian De Mancuso,” he said, the name landing like a thunderclap. “And I suggest you start taking this seriously.”
“And I’m supposed to be impressed?” she shot back, her tone cutting despite the tremor in her voice.
Julian stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, until only inches separated them. “Fear is a tool, Morgan,” he said softly, his voice sharp enough to cut. “Learn how to use it.”
Her breath caught in her throat, but she refused to look away, her gaze locking onto his with unwavering resolve.
Julian lingered for a moment longer, his eyes flicking over her as though calculating something unspoken. Then, with a measured step back, he turned toward the door. “You’ll stay here until I decide it’s safe,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The door clicked shut behind him, and Morgan exhaled shakily, the weight of the encounter pressing down on her. She gripped the compass pendant tightly, her resolve hardening.
She wouldn’t let him win. Not without a fight.
