Chapter 2 - THE MERCY OF A KINGPINDamian didn't shout. He didn't wave a gun or raise his voice. He simply stood beneath the umbrella, his dark, unreadable eyes scanning the alley before dropping to where I lay bleeding in the gutter.
"You're making a mess, Ricky," Damian said softly. His voice was smooth as velvet, yet every word carried the terrifying weight of an absolute monarch.
"Mr. Russo!" Ricky stammered, his hands shaking as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "I'm so sorry! I caught this thief stealing from the cash drawer. I was just teaching her a lesson—I'll clean up the blood right away!"
Damian took a slow step forward, looking directly at me. "No."
He turned on his heel toward the car, pausing just as his hand touched the door handle. "Bring her to me."
"Mr. Russo, wait!" Ricky pleaded, stepping forward frantically. "She's just a housekeeper! She's a nobody!"
A sharp, violent motion erupted in the rain as one of Damian's bodyguards slammed Ricky face-first against the damp brick wall, pinning him instantly while another man gently lifted my broken, shivering body from the wet pavement.
I begged them to let me go. Everyone in New York knew that people who entered Damian Russo’s black cars rarely came back out. But no one answered my pleas.
They placed me inside the heated interior of the SUV, where the rich scent of Italian leather and polished cedar filled the cabin. I slumped into the corner, staining the cream upholstery with rain and blood, too terrified to move and too severely injured to fight.
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From the front passenger seat, an older man with silver hair and sharp blue eyes turned around to look at me through the rearview mirror.
"My name is Vincent," the older man said calmly, gesturing to the driver. "Call Dr. Bell to the townhouse. Now."
