Michael's POV

The bright lights of the supermarket shined above me, casting a white glow over the neatly stocked shelves.

The scent of freshly baked bread and aroma filled the air, an odd contrast to the tension twisting inside my chest.

I pushed the shopping cart down the aisle, gripping the handle so tightly my knuckles turned white.

Ashley strolled beside me, scanning the shelves for something sweet.

She was humming softly, utterly at ease, completely unaware-or maybe just ignoring-how fucking angry I was.

I turned to her, exhaling sharply.

"I let him intimidate me" I said.

Ashley grabbed a bag of gummy bears and tossed it into the cart without looking at me.

"Mhm."

I scowled.

"Don't mhm me. You don't get it."

She finally turned to face me, her lips twitching.

"Oh, I get it." Her voice was laced with amusement, which only fueled my frustration. "Fernando caught you sneaking out of Marlo's room half-dressed, and he played with you like a cat with a mouse."

I gritted my teeth.

"That's not funny."

Ashley chuckled.

"It's a little funny."

I slammed a box of cereal into the cart harder than necessary, making a few customers glance our way.

I ignored them, my jaw tightening.

Ashley sighed, her amusement softening when she saw how tense I was.

"Look, Michael, I get it. It pisses you off that he got under your skin." She touched my arm gently, grounding me. "But you're still in the game. That's what matters."

I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to calm down.

"I just- I hate that I was afraid of him. Even for a second."

Ashley's blue eyes searched mine, and I could see the empathy there. She was the only person who truly understood why this case meant everything to me. Why failing wasn't an option.

She lowered her voice.

"Michael, fear isn't weakness. It keeps you alive."

I looked away, staring at the rows of canned soup like they held all the answers.

"I don't want to be afraid of him."

"Then don't be," she said simply. "But don't be reckless either."

I scoffed.

"You think I'm reckless?"

Ashley crossed her arms.

"You had sex with Marlo to get a party invitation, didn't you?"

I winced.

"I had to."

She smirked.

"Uh-huh. And how was it?" she asked and I could see the amusement in her eyes.

I shot her a glare.

"Don't."

Ashley burst into laughter, attracting even more unwanted attention.

"Keep your voice down," I muttered.

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still grinning.

"Okay, okay. So, tell me about this party."

I sighed, shifting my weight.

"It's an exclusive gathering. Only the prominent members of Fernando's inner circle get an invite. If I can get in, I'll be one step closer to him."

Ashley's expression grew serious.

"And Marlo's tag gets you in?"

I nodded.

"Yeah. I managed to take it before Fernando showed up."

Her eyebrows lifted.

"You managed to take it? So, you weren't sure you'd get it?"

I clenched my jaw.

"It was risky."

Ashley exhaled.

"Jesus, Michael. You have to be careful."

"I am careful."

She gave me a look.

"Are you? Or is your hatred for Fernando clouding your judgment?" she asked.

That made me pause.

Ashley was the only person in the FBI who knew about my past-about what Fernando's Mafia crime family did to my sister. She was the only one I trusted with that information, and we both knew that if the Bureau ever found out, I would be taken off this case before I could blink.

I couldn't let that happen.

"I'm not losing focus," I said.

Ashley studied me for a long moment, then nodded.

"Alright. But promise me something."

I lifted a brow.

"What?"

"Don't let him see what he does to you." Her voice was softer now, filled with quiet concern. "You want to take him down? Good. Do it. But don't let him see your hate. Don't let him know he gets to you."

I swallowed hard.

"I won't."

Ashley held out her pinky.

I rolled my eyes.

"Are we twelve?"

She wiggled it like a ten year old child.

"Humor me."

Sighing, I brought my pinky to hers.

"Fine. I promise."

A satisfied smirk curled her lips.

"Good. Now, let's get out of here before you kill someone over a loaf of bread."

I snorted.

"Shut up."

She laughed, and just for a moment, some of the weight in my chest lifted.

Ashley and I walked out of the supermarket, the bags of groceries weighing down our arms.

The night air was calm, cool, a welcome relief from the heat inside.

"I'll see you later," she said as we reached her car.

I nodded.

"Yeah. Be careful" I said as I watched her begin to open the door of her car and placed the groceries inside before heading to the driver seat.

She smirked.

"Always" she replied and I could tell she was okay.

I didn't feel fine if I wasn't sure was was completely safe.

Working in the FBI meant we were prone to a lot of dangers and Ashley was the only person in my life I cared about to ensure her safety.

I watched her drive off before making my way to my own car.

My mind was still racing, replaying every second of my encounter with Fernando.

Next time, I wouldn't let him get the upper hand.

I reached into my pocket for my keys, gripping them tightly as I approached my car.

Then-

Darkness.

A big black bag was brought over my head, and before I could react, strong hands grabbed me.

I struggled to be free.

"What the-"

A sharp blow to my stomach knocked the wind out of me.

Pain exploded in my ribs as I was forced forward, my knees falling against the pavement.

I struggled, adrenaline surging through my veins, but they were too strong.

The world tilted.

My body felt heavy.

The last thing I thought before unconsciousness swallowed me whole was the name that fueled my rage.

Fernando.

And my hatred for him burned hotter than ever.

Fernando's POV

I leaned back in my chair, swirling the deep red wine in my glass as my maid, Emilia, carefully lifted another forkful of food to my lips.

I parted them just slightly, letting her slip the tender piece of meat inside. I chewed slowly, savoring the flavors.

It was a good meal-perfectly cooked and seasoned just right.

Yet, the presence of the man standing before me was ruining my appetite.

"Boss, I swear I don't know how it happened," Marlo stammered, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

His voice grated on my nerves, filled with desperation, regret, and the kind of blind devotion that bored me.

I raised a hand, stopping Emilia from feeding me the next bite. My sharp gaze lifted to Marlo, and he visibly flinched.

I sighed.

"Marlo."

"Yes, Boss?"

I set my glass down with deliberate slowness.

"Are you aware that I despise incompetence?"

"Yes, Boss." He bowed his head.

"And yet," I continued, my tone smooth but sharp as a blade, "here you are, in my dining room, telling me that you've lost something important."

Marlo swallowed.

"I-I didn't lose it, Boss. I must have left it in my room."

I cocked my head.

"Then retrieve it."

His face turned red.

"That's the thing, Boss. I looked everywhere. It's gone."

My fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished wooden table.

My irritation was growing, but something about this situation piqued my interest.

"Gone," I echoed. "So someone took it?"

Marlo hesitated, then nodded.

"That's what I think, Boss."

A slow smile curled my lips.

"And tell me, Marlo... who was the last person in your room?"

He fidgeted, hesitating before answering.

"Michael, Boss."

Ah.

I leaned forward slightly, folding my hands together, intrigued.

Michael.

The quiet, unassuming new recruit I had barely noticed until last night, when I caught him sneaking out of Marlo's room like a guilty lover.

I had seen the way he froze when he met my gaze, the terror flashing through his eyes. I had felt his discomfort when I whispered into his ear, warning him never to overstep again.

And yet, here we were.

I hummed in amusement, my fingers drumming once against the table.

"So, Michael," I mused, tasting the name on my tongue. "Does our newest recruit have a delicious dark side?"

Marlo stiffened.

"Boss, Michael is-"

I silenced him with a look.

"Don't bore me with your defenses, Marlo. If the tag was last seen in your room, and Michael was the last person in there, then I have questions."

As if on cue, the grand doors to the dining hall opened, and two of my men stepped inside, dragging a man with them.

My smile widened.

Michael.

A big sack covered his head, his hands bound behind his back.

He wasn't struggling, which told me he was conscious. Good.

Excitement coursed through me as I gestured lazily with my hand.

"Remove it."

One of my men brought the bag off, and for a single moment, I was caught off guard.

Michael's eyes-burning, filled with pure hatred-locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a thrilling chill down my spine.

Ah.

It was gone in a flash, replaced by a polite, controlled expression, but I had seen it.

Interesting.

Michael blinked once, then licked his lips.

"Boss," he said smoothly, his voice betraying no emotion. "What's going on?"

I leaned back, pretending to consider him.

"That's what I'd like to know, Michael."

His jaw tensed slightly, but he remained composed.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

I gestured toward Marlo without looking at him.

"It appears my dear Marlo has lost something very important to me."

Michael tilted his head, feigning confusion.

"Lost something?" he asked.

"Yes." I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table. "A tag. One that not only grants access to my very exclusive party tomorrow but also important rooms of my mansion."

Michael's expression didn't change. If he was nervous, he hid it well.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Boss. But I don't see what that has to do with me" he replied.

I smiled.

"Marlo says you were the last person in his room before it went missing and we both know that's true" I waited to see what expression would appear on his face.

A flicker of something passed through his eyes, but it was gone too fast for me to catch.

"I was in his room, yes. But only to ask him about work, like i said before" he replied.

I rolled my eyes. It seems he was still going to stick to his stupid excuse.

"Work," I repeated, amused. "Not to, let's say... indulge in more personal activities?"

Michael's lips thinned.

"No, Boss."

Liar.

I studied him, my amusement deepening.

He was good-very good at maintaining his composure. But I had been doing this for too long.

I knew when someone was hiding something.

I turned back to Marlo, who was still standing stiffly, awaiting my judgment. I sighed.

"Marlo, Marlo, Marlo. Do you know what I hate more than incompetence?" I asked.

Marlo swallowed.

"Lies, Boss?"

I grinned.

"Exactly."

Michael remained still as I turned my attention back to him.

"Tell me, Michael." I tapped a finger against the table. "Are you a liar?"

His eyes met mine, calm and unreadable.

"No, Boss."

I held his gaze for a long, silent moment. Then, finally, I let out a low chuckle.

"Well," I said, leaning back again, "I suppose we'll find out."

Michael remained silent, waiting.

I tapped my chin, pretending to think.

"Marlo's carelessness is unfortunate. He should be punished for losing something so important."

Marlo stiffened.

"Boss, please-"

I waved a hand, silencing him.

"But... I'm feeling generous." My gaze slid back to Michael, and a delicious idea formed in my mind.

A game.

A test.

I smiled.

"Michael, since you seem to be such a... helpful recruit, I have an offer for you."

Michael's expression remained carefully neutral.

"An offer?"

I nodded.

"Come to my party tomorrow."

Michael blinked.

"I-"

"Not as a guest, of course." I smirked. "You'll work as a server boy."

Michael's lips parted slightly, as if he hadn't expected that.

Interesting.

Then, something flashed in his eyes-just for a second.

Excitement?

Ah.

Now that was intriguing.

Michael quickly masked his expression and gave a respectful nod.

"Of course, Boss. I'd be honored."

I studied him.

"Would you?"

"Yes."

I let the silence stretch, savoring the moment.

Then, finally, I grinned.

"Good."

Michael inclined his head.

"Thank you, Boss."

I watched him carefully, my curiosity growing.

Who are you really, Michael?

What secrets are you hiding?

And more importantly...

Why do I want to find out?

As Michael was escorted out of the dining hall, my smirk widened.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Michael's POV

The air was filled with the smell of cigar smoke, expensive perfume, and the quiet hum of sinister conversations.

The grand ballroom of Fernando's mansion was covered in golden light, its high ceilings adorned with beautiful chandeliers that cast numerous shadows over the sea of sharply dressed men.

I moved carefully through the crowd, holding a silver tray with crystal glasses of the finest whiskey.

My posture was relaxed, my expression neutral, but inside, I was fuming.

This wasn't just a party.

It was a gathering of criminals-men who had built empires on blood, drugs, and fear.

I recognized several faces immediately.

The bald man in the corner, laughing over a drink? Leonardo Vasquez, head of one of the biggest arms-smuggling rings in South America.

The sharply dressed Asian man sitting across from him? Wei Cheng, a known trafficker whose operations stretched from Hong Kong to Los Angeles.

And the old man, currently swirling his drink and smirking at a nervous young server?

Nikolai Petrov.

The Nikolai Petrov.

The bastard had been on the FBI's most-wanted list for over two decades, responsible for running one of the largest heroin distributions in Eastern Europe. And he was sitting here, sipping his drink like a king, surrounded by murderers and thieves who saw themselves as businessmen.

My grip tightened around the tray.

I needed to find the evidence and get the hell out of here.

I forced my body to relax as I approached one of the guests, lowering the tray slightly.

"Would you like a drink, sir?"

The man barely acknowledged me, taking a glass before returning to his conversation.

Good. That's how I preferred it.

I moved toward another table, distributing drinks while keeping an eye on the layout of the room.

Fernando was standing near the back, deep in conversation with two other men, his expression smug as ever.

Every fiber of my being wanted to put a bullet in his skull.

Not yet.

I turned my attention back to the guests, only to find myself caught in the sharp gaze of Nikolai Petrov.

His lips curled into an amused smile as he set his empty glass down on the table and motioned for me.

I had no choice but to step forward.

"Drink, sir?" I asked evenly, offering the tray.

Nikolai didn't take one. Instead, his sharp blue eyes studied me, his thin lips stretching into something that made my skin crawl.

"You're a handsome one," he murmured, his thick Russian accent covering every word. "What is your name, boy?"

I swallowed my disgust.

"Michael, sir."

"Michael," he repeated, rolling the name in his mouth as if tasting it. "How charming."

I kept my expression neutral, but my pulse ticked higher.

Nikolai leaned back in his chair, one hand resting against his knee.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Michael?" he asked.

I forced a polite smile.

"I'm just here to work, sir."

"Work." Nikolai smirked. "And yet, a face like yours... it belongs somewhere else. Somewhere... more pleasurable."

My stomach turned.

"I appreciate the compliment, sir, but I-"

"Come home with me," he said smoothly, cutting me off. "I'll take care of you. You won't have to work another day in your life."

I kept my hands steady, though my skin prickled with the urge to throw the tray at his face.

"I'm flattered, but I must refuse."

Nikolai's expression didn't falter. If anything, his amusement deepened.

"Oh? Why so shy?" His fingers tapped against the glass. "I assure you, you'll enjoy my company. Many have."

I inhaled slowly, keeping my voice polite but firm.

"Thank you, sir, but I must decline."

Before he could respond, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"My, my," Fernando drawled. "How disappointing."

I tensed as he walked over, hands in his pockets, his signature smirk plastered across his face.

"Fernando," Nikolai greeted him, not breaking eye contact with me.

Fernando tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"I see you've met my dear Michael."

Nikolai's smirk widened.

"He's quite the beauty. You've been hiding him from me."

Fernando chuckled.

"Hiding? No, no, my friend." His smirk sharpened. "I've simply been keeping him for myself."

My stomach dropped as his hand slid over my butt in a slow, possessive touch.

Instinct took over, and I stepped away before I could stop myself.

Fernando's smirk widened.

I forced myself to stay calm, gritting my teeth as I bowed my head slightly in apology.

"I'm sorry, sir. I have work to do."

Fernando merely chuckled, turning back to Nikolai.

"As much as I'd love to continue this conversation, we have more pressing matters to attend to."

Nikolai sighed, casting me one last lingering glance.

"Another time, then."

I quickly turned on my heel and walked away, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Bastard.

I clenched my fists, forcing my breath to steady.

The way Fernando had touched me-the way he spoke about me like I was some kind of object-it made my skin crawl.

If I wasn't already determined to bring him down, I sure as hell was now.

Slipping into the hallway, I reached into my pocket and pulled out Marlo's stolen tag.

It's now or never.

The study was heavily guarded, but Marlo's tag gave me immediate access.

The second I slipped inside, I locked the door behind me and exhaled slowly.

The room was exquisite-large bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound books that I doubted Fernando had ever read.

A massive desk sat in the center, completely clear of any paperwork.

It was too clean.

No crime boss kept his operations this tidy.

Frustration curled in my gut as I began my search, pulling open drawers, scanning the bookshelves for hidden compartments.

Nothing.

Damn it.

I knew Fernando was careful, but I hadn't expected him to be this meticulous.

Gritting my teeth, I moved toward the desk, running my fingers along the wood, searching for anything-

Click.

A panel beneath my fingers shifted slightly.

I froze.

Slowly, a small compartment slid open beneath the desk.

My heart pounded as I reached inside, pulling out a thin black USB drive.

This could be it.

The proof I needed.

I quickly slipped it into my pocket, about to search further when-

The door handle turned.

My breath caught.

The lock clicked open.

I turned just in time to see the door swing open, and there he was.

Fernando.

Tall, sharp, his smirk etched in amusement.

My stomach dropped.

Shit.