Crimson vows

nto the waterfront boulevard. Rain-slicked pavement reflected neon signs for clubs, casinos, and late‑night diners-each flicker a reminder of the dangerous world she had abando

curb, her boots clicking against the wet concrete. She pressed her black clutch-slim, unassuming-closer to her side. Within it lay every

er heart breaking with every mile. She thought running would keep them safe. But safety had proven to be an ill

ple he cared for-flickered through her mind. Fear and longing warred in her chest. She d

tact list. Scrolling, she found Enzo-the only one she trusted to

e trembled on th

eat that echoed like an accusation. "I tho

the rain bead on her hair. "I'm he

ck. "Make

e Red Lantern.

wo blocks down. Before she reached it, a sleek black sedan slid parallel to her on the street. Dark windows. No tail l

cracked sidewalk. Isabella pushed through the door into a haze of cigarette smoke and whiskey. The scent of stale b

seat; his head bowed as if weighed down by too many secrets. When she approached, he looked

ice low enough to keep the

to the booth opposite h

tiny sharpening his fea

acing it on the table. The card's crimson border was stained with smudged fingerprint

ano's handwriting." He set the card aside, rubbing one knuckle against

he boy in front of him." Her voice caught. She pressed her palms fla

"He'll kill them all,

in her mind. He had struck a man in the docks with enough force to shatter bone. That same

e of the booth's seat cushion. "Shipment yard on Dock 12. Warehouse 3. They use it as a staging post." He unholstered a USB drive from his jacket and pushed

the drive. "Then w

you should know: Marco refuses half‑measures." He studied h

n't let him walk into an am

He exhaled slowly, fingers tapping the tabletop. "I'll tighten the net. But you have to st

ped her. "Then he'l

er. "He's a monster when he's angry-but he's human.

red in her chest. She forced a nod. "Tell your men to

ear. "Text me once you're in position. I'll feed you any upd

small, grim sm

ly company. Outside, rain had picked up, pattering against the windows. She could almost see her son's face-a round cheek

e pistol at her waist-light, familiar. She checked her phone: 10:07 PM. Dock 12 wasn't far. She s

sel fumes. The distant clang of cranes punctuated the night. Her plan was simple: get eyes on the warehouse, c

ave way to rusted shipping containers, flickering sodium lights, and the sharp tang of metal. A lone gull cri

tance would protect them. But now she knew: there's no escape from the ones you

the gravel path that led to Dock 12. The warehouse loomed ahead-dark silhoue