

Mia POV

The chase was a heart-pounding ballet of screeching tires and adrenaline. But what surprised me most was Albert—he remained almost too calm for the situation.

For a while, the driver's skills were enough, weaving through narrow streets and back alleys. But the sheer number of pursuers proved overwhelming. We were cornered on a deserted stretch of road, boxed in by four identical black SUVs.

Albert let out a sigh, a sound devoid of fear but heavy with resignation.

"Pull over."

"What?" I could barely breathe around the panic.

In the rearview mirror, I saw a luxury sedan emerge from the pack, gliding effortlessly to the forefront. A figure stepped out of the other car, silhouetted by the headlights. Tall and broad-shouldered, their features hidden in the shadows. It was someone I didn't recognize—a kingpin, perhaps, or at least a high-ranking member of Verdi.

Albert's hand 



Albert POV

Her gaze held a flicker of something I hadn't anticipated – disgust and a furious distance. It was like she was seeing someone else through me. And for some reason, I didn't want to see that kind of disdain in her eyes.

"Do you wish I had connections with them?"

"No," she said, her voice firm. "I'd rather not be associated with the mafia at all."

Her answer surprised me. The city has been controlled by Italian mafias for decades. Most people living here learned to fawn on them. It had never occurred to me that someone might find my position… undesirable. A small, unexpected smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

"Fair," I conceded, drawing out the word. "I have dealings with the mafia and the bratva, but they're all above-board legal transactions. It's just a way to survive."

It wasn't a complete lie. There were ways to operate within the fringes of the mafia world wit


Mia POV
Marco's bluster died in his throat, replaced by a strangled gasp. Two burly men materialized from the shadows behind Albert. Their expressions were cold and unforgiving. Without a word, they grasped Marco by the arms, his drunken bravado instantly replaced by pathetic whimpers for mercy.
"P-Please, don't--I didn't..."
I watched the scene unfold in a daze. Marco was reduced to a blubbering mess, hauled out of the diner like a ragdoll. 
My mind raced. Albert was clearly wealthy, but that alone wouldn't explain the level of terror Marco was displaying. Capos like Marco weren't easily intimidated by displays of money.
"Thank you for that, but... what just happened?" I asked, my voice laced with a mixture of confusion and anger. "Do you know who that is?"
"A thug, but no one of importance."
"He's a capo," I said. 
He shrugged. "I'm a wealthy man with bodyguards... and connections."
Then, I noticed the figure standing discreetly in the corner of the diner. A tall, broad-shouldered man. For some reason, there was an aura of power about him that set me on edge. 
"Ivan," Albert nodded toward the man, catching my bewildered gaze.
Ivan, Katie's boyfriend?
He smiled and came over. "Good to finally meet you, Mia. I've heard a lot about you."
I hesitated. "You, too... Thank you for your help..."
It was all I could say. It wasn't like I fully accepted him as Katie's boyfriend or anything.
"Why are you here with Albert?"
"He decided to join me for a bite to eat and to discuss the green card situation."
I thought Albert was just one of Ivan’s client, but Albert didn’t look like he was intimated by the bratva underboss while standing next to Ivan. Clearly, they were so much more familiar with each other than I imagined, and I was not sure how I felt about that.
"You don't look too thrilled to see me," Ivan said. 
"I just wasn't expecting it. But thank you for earlier, I guess it was you Marco saw... "
It must have shown on my face everything that I thought about him and how I really, really wasn't thrilled to see him because he threw back his head and laughed, a rich, unexpected sound that filled the diner.
"You're way more fun than she said. Perhaps next time, we can have a proper conversation with all four of us. Give me a chance to convince you I'm not such a bad guy."
While his words held a hint of charm, the glint in his eyes remained a reminder of the power he wielded, the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.
With a sigh, I took them to a table, ready to take their order. He ordered, and then Ivan did. As I looked over their orders, I noticed a small detail. Albert hadn't ordered dessert. Ivan, however, had ordered red velvet cake.
Taking a chance, I approached Gus, who was wiping down the counter with a practiced hand. "Hey, Gus," I murmured, "mind if I offer something on the house tonight?"
He raised an eyebrow, a spark of curiosity glinting in his eyes.
"For those two?" he asked, gesturing towards my table. "Sure, why not? Though judging by their suits, I don't think they're hurting for a free slice of pie."
Moments later, I returned to the table with a tray balanced precariously in my hands. I set down their meals and desserts. On one side, a small dish of lemon sorbet. On the other, a decadent slice of red velvet cake.
"Dessert's on me tonight as a thank you."
Surprise flickered across both their faces, quickly replaced by amusement. Ivan chuckled, his earlier seriousness evaporating.
"A woman who pays attention," he said, reaching for the cake with a flourish. "Albert, I think you've found yourself a good wife."
Albert smirked, but didn’t comment on Ivan’s words.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I could feel my cheeks heated a little.
I could hear Ivan’s laugh as I walked away.
 With Marco gone, the tension in the air had definitely lifted. The rest of my shift went by quickly and almost quietly. It seemed like no one in the diner was willing to get into an altercation with Albert and Ivan there. 
By the time my shift was over, Ivan had already left. I collected my last paycheck and all of my tips before walking out with Albert. We stepped out of the diner, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the greasy warmth inside. 
As we walked down the sidewalk, a shiver ran down my spine, accompanied by a metallic tang in the air – blood. It was a smell that I was way too familiar with. I drew back from the darkness, bumping into Albert.
"Everything okay?" Albert asked, his voice light as he focused on me. 
"Just… uneasy," I mumbled, pulling my jacket tighter around myself. The city felt different tonight, more dangerous than usual, but maybe that was just me thinking that Marco might come back.
"Uneasy?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.
I nodded. " Marco and his people aren't exactly the type to go quietly."
I hated the way my voice trembled, hated the way memories I didn't want flashed through my mind.
"We should go quickly if you're that uneasy."
He wrapped an arm around me and guided me toward the car parked at the end of the block.
It was a sleek black sedan, still running. One of the bodyguards, a man with a shaved head and a face like granite, slid from behind the wheel to open the door for us. I climbed in and noted that the other was in the passenger seat with his hand resting casually on a bulge beneath his jacket.
A gun.
He was definitely carrying a gun.
As I settled into the back seat, the tension in the car was palpable. Albert climbed in behind me and then we were off. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft hum of the engine. Then, a flicker of movement caught my eye. Headlights were distant at first, but they were gaining speed and getting closer rapidly. Three cars, dark shapes, hurtled towards us down the deserted street.
Fear, cold and sharp, clawed at my throat.
"We're being followed!" I gasped, my voice tight with panic.
Albert remained calm; his head tilted back as he surveyed the scene through the rearview mirror. I caught sight of the glint in his eyes as he continued to look ahead.
I looked back to the rearview window and knew for a certain they were following us. It had to be someone related to Marco. A Verdi who didn't like their capo being made a fool of in the diner.
"Lose them." 
Albert’s voice was devoid of emotion. 
 

Mia POV
The chase was a heart-pounding ballet of screeching tires and adrenaline. But what surprised me most was Albert—he remained almost too calm for the situation.
For a while, the driver's skills were enough, weaving through narrow streets and back alleys. But the sheer number of pursuers proved overwhelming. We were cornered on a deserted stretch of road, boxed in by four identical black SUVs.
Albert let out a sigh, a sound devoid of fear but heavy with resignation.
"Pull over."
"What?" I could barely breathe around the panic.
In the rearview mirror, I saw a luxury sedan emerge from the pack, gliding effortlessly to the forefront. A figure stepped out of the other car, silhouetted by the headlights. Tall and broad-shouldered, their features hidden in the shadows. It was someone I didn't recognize—a kingpin, perhaps, or at least a high-ranking member of Verdi.
Albert's hand shot out, gripping my arm with surprising force. "Stay down," he commanded, his voice low and u

#Chapter 6: Panic