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With a quick nod, I try to convince not only Marlene but myself as well. "Yes… Yes, I’m fine," I reply with a hint of hesitation. It's not entirely false...but it doesn't reveal the full truth. "It's just that...serving tables doesn't feel quite right for me at the moment."
Marlene lets out a heavy sigh, her expression torn between worry and understanding. She knows something is going on with me, but also respects my privacy.
"We can try… But Talia," she begins before trailing off. She knows my added value to the team and how helpful I've been in keeping things running smoothly. "You know, we're short-staffed here. We need everyone on the team to be able to do everything - cooking in the kitchen, waiting tables, cleaning rooms, tending bar when needed. You're great at it all, and let's be honest, we’ve started to rely on you."
Marlene's words sink in. The weight on my shoulders only grows heavier. My spirits fall, leaving me hopeless. My response is barely above a whisper, "I understand...I'll do whatever is needed."
Leaving Marlene's office only deepens my spiral of emotions. The harsh reality hits me with full force as I head to my room - there is no escape from the risks of being found here. I’m leverage, and any moment, someone can show up and use me to force my father’s hand. It's not just about me anymore. It never was about just me. Accepting that fact feels like a suffocating cloud, constantly hanging over me. So with this job in town, I have to keep looking over my shoulder, always feeling hunted, and always bracing for the worst...that is now my existence.
Keeping secrets and staying under the radar seem more unrealistic with each passing day.
I may need to leave this place.
8
Antonio
As I steermy SUV through the quiet streets of the small Colorado town, the glow of the underground fight club ahead is a reminder of the world I'm entrenched in. The club, hidden in plain sight, is a place where only those accustomed to danger would dare to visit.
After some diligent research, I come to learn that someone from my past had frequented this very place. Luca. With a boldness fueled by curiosity and nostalgia, I reached out to him via social media private message. He was more than willing to meet up with me here tonight. He’s a man who is not just an old friend but a brother in arms. Our bond was forged years ago when we were both just starting out in the famiglia. I vividly remember a cold winter night, the ground covered in thick blankets of snow, when a deal we were overseeing suddenly went awry. In that moment of chaos, it was Luca's quick instincts that saved us both – dragging me through a narrow back alley as bullets whistled past our heads. That harrowing experience, followed by hours spent holed up in a pitch black safe house tending to our wounds and frayed nerves, made our bond stronger than steel.
I pull the vehicle to a stop and take a deep breath, preparing myself for what lies ahead. Inside this industrial building, tall and dark frame made of oxidized metal and grimy concrete, with broken windows and rusted metal doors, Luca may know something that helps for find Natalia or the people responsible for taking her from me. My chest pounds with both hope and fear as I exit the vehicle into the chilly night air. The scent of diesel and exhaust lingers in the air, but it's quickly overpowered by the tension and urgency that fills my mind. This is more than just another lead. It's a fragile lifeline, connecting me to the woman who holds my need captive.
I step into the gritty fight club, my two men by my side. The heavy door groans open, revealing a chaotic scene filled with raw energy and primal instincts. The air is thick with the stench of sweat, cheap alcohol, and the faint metallic tang of blood - a pungent mix that permeates every corner of the room. The dim lighting casts deep shadows over a motley crowd of onlookers, their faces lit from time to time by the off and on flashes of light moving around the ring. It feels like entering a different world, one where only the strongest survive.
Bouncers, with imposing physiques and eyes that seem to size up every person who enters, give us a quick once-over. Their towering figures are clad in all black, their muscles straining against tight shirts. We pass by without incident and enter the venue, where the energy crackles like electricity in the air. The crowd is a mix of hardened faces, some bearing scars from past fights, and thrill-seekers eager to witness an intense display of violence. The sound of their shouts and cheers echoes off the walls, creating a deafening racket. The ring itself is a crude structure made of ropes strung around raised platform, with dark, bloody stains on the surface - each one telling a tale of the countless battles that must've taken place within these walls.
Men and women crowd around, some placing bets and watch the fight with a feverish intensity, others hold drinks, their laughter sharp and excited. Some stand on their tiptoes, craning their necks for a better view, and a few lean against the walls or railing, their postures relaxed and confident. The air is dense with their collective energy.
My sharp gaze scans the crowded club, searching for any sign of Luca. The upper level provides a better vantage point, and we make my way through the throng of people with purpose. One of my men taps my arm, directing my attention to a figure leaning against the railing above. It's Luca, his stance confident and commanding as ever.
We make our way through the throng of people, each step bringing me closer to a man who might hold the key to finding Natalia. Adrenaline is pumping through my blood, not from the chaos around me, but from the hope that I'm one step closer to bringing her home.
We go over to him, his imposing figure becomes more defined. He's a man whose physique speaks of years in the fight game – broad-shouldered, with a rugged face that's seen its share of scuffles. His hair, once jet black, is now streaked with silver, but his eyes, a piercing shade of green, still hold the same alertness I remember.
"Luca," I greet him, extending a hand.
"Antonio," he replies, his handshake firm. "It's been a while, brother."
We exchange a couple pleasantries, reminiscing briefly about old times – the close calls, the victories, the losses. But the nostalgia is short-lived; there's an undercurrent of tension, a mutual understanding that we're both here for more serious matters.
"So, how’d you end up in this line of work?" I finally ask, curiosity getting the better of me. "Is it just business for you, or do you thrive on the thrill of it all?" My eyes scan the busy scene around us as I await his response.
Luca lets out a low chuckle, his eyes scanning the ring. "Bit of both, Antonio. After the chaos in the famiglia settled, I needed something to keep me grounded. This place, it's raw, real. It’s a little like where we came from, what we've been through."
His response shows me the paths we've both taken, diverging yet forever intertwined by our shared history and the unspoken codes of our world.
The tension in the air was thick as I cut to the chase. "Listen, I need information," I say, my voice low and urgent. "It's about Natalia. She's missing. I believe she's been taken."
Luca's expression shifts but doesn’t show any surprise. His dark eyes narrow, searching my face. "I heard rumors, Antonio. The Romano family's got a lot of enemies."
My heart sinks at the reminder of our dangerous life. But right now, all that matters is finding Natalia. "Do you know anything that can help? Any leads?"
He pauses, his gaze scanning the fight as if weighing his words carefully. "There's talk, whispers about a group that showed up a while back. They're operating out of an abandoned building on the east side. At the very end of Station Road. Might be nothing, but..."
Every piece of information is crucial in this search. "I appreciate the intel, brother. This could help a lot."
He places a strong hand on my shoulder, grasping me with a force that sparks a sense of familiarity and loyalty within me. "I'll do anything to help, brother," Luca says in his deep, gravelly voice. "For old times' sake."
