Chapter 1 - The Weight of a Bounty
The night air outside the Aster Hotel was sharp, carrying the heavy scent of harbor salt and exhaust fumes from the city traffic. The sleek black town car idled at the curb, its tinted windows gleaming under the amber glow of streetlamps. But the warmth of Victor Romano’s hand around mine was instantly overshadowed by the chilling words echoing from his phone speaker.
“The Moretti family just put a bounty on the waitress.”
Victor’s fingers tightened around mine, not in fear, but with a sudden, coiled tension that made him look less like a man and more like a predator about to strike. His gray eyes darkened, fixing on the phone screen before he lifted it back to his ear.
“State a figure, Dante,” Victor commanded, his voice dropping into a register so cold it scraped against the pavement.
“Half a million, Boss,” Dante’s voice crackled through the speaker, breathless and strained. “They caught wind of what happened inside the ballroom. Word traveled fast that you kissed her hand in front of the city's elite. Marco Moretti thinks she’s your weakness. They’re treating her like state property.”
“Tell them to come and collect it themselves,” Victor snarled, cutting the call without waiting for a reply. He opened the rear door of the town car, ushering me inside with swift, protective urgency.
I slid across the leather seat, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. The gin-soaked fabric of my uniform chilled against my skin, but I barely felt it. A bounty. Half a million dollars. All because a man whose name made hardened criminals sweat had stepped out of the shadows to defend a girl in a cheap waitress outfit.
“Victor,” I managed to choke out as he slid in beside me and slammed the door, plunging the interior into a hushed, shadow-filled sanctuary. “What does this mean? I’m... I’m just a waitress from South Boston.”
“You aren't a waitress anymore, Dora,” Victor said, his eyes searching my face in the dim light of the dashboard. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a clean linen handkerchief, and gently took my bleeding finger—the one cut by Jessica Trent’s broken glass. He pressed the cloth against the wound with painstaking care. “You were never just a waitress. But tonight, the wolves outside just realized you matter to me. That makes you a target in their war.”
“I didn't ask for a war,” I whispered, staring down at our hands.
“Wars don’t ask for permission, Dora,” Victor replied softly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “When I walked into that ballroom, I knew what kind of ripples it would make. But I couldn't stand there and watch them break you. Not after what you did for me in that alley.”
The town car surged forward, pulling away from the hotel curb and merging into the Boston traffic. Ahead of us, two unmarked SUVs fell into formation, one leading and one trailing behind us like armored escorts.
“Where are we going?” I asked, looking out the tinted window as the glittering skyscrapers of downtown gave way to the industrial gloom of the waterfront.
“Not to your apartment,” Victor said flatly. “The Morettis own half the landlords in South Boston. Your walk-up isn't safe anymore. We’re going to my estate on the North Shore.”
May you like
“My things... my rent money—”
“Consider everything replaced, upgraded, and heavily fortified,” Victor interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. Yet, despite the terrifying reality of a half-million-dollar price tag on my head, a strange, terrifying calm settled over me. For the first time in my life, I wasn't invisible. But I was about to find out just how expensive visibility really was.
