Alessia's POV
The cold air hit my skin as we rushed through the back door, my breath coming out in short gasps. Marco's grip on my wrist was tight but not painful, his strides long and fast.
The moment we stepped outside, sounds of siren was heard behind us, followed by the muffled shouts of officers.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath.
Marco didn't react. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone as he dialed a number. His other hand still held onto mine, his fingers warm and steady against my skin.
I wasn't sure why, but the heat of his touch sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. Something about the moment made my lips twitch into a small grin.
This is some typical movie romance shit.
And then, just as I was lost in my thoughts, my foot caught onto something, and I stumbled forward.
The moment my hand slipped from Marco's, I crashed onto the ground with a sharp thud. Pain shot through my knee, but before I could even process it—
"Hey! Stop right there!"
The unmistakable command of a police officer echoed through the alley.
I barely had time to lift my head when I saw Marco pivot—just for a split second. Our eyes met, but instead of reaching for me, he turned on his heel and ran.
I stared after him, my mind blank with shock.
That bastard just left me.
Before I could push myself up, a flashlight beamed directly into my face.
"Stay where you are!"
I groaned internally. Great. Just fucking great.
A pair of officers surrounded me, their hands resting on their holsters.
"Why were you running?" one of them demanded.
I lifted my hands slowly. "There was a shooting inside Inferno," I explained, forcing my voice to remain calm. "I work there, and when the shots started, I panicked. I ran."
"Who was that man you were with?"
I hesitated. "I….I don't know. Just another customer, I guess? We ran out at the same time."
The officers exchanged a glance, clearly unconvinced.
"We received intel that a fugitive was spotted inside the club," one officer said. "And considering the type of place Inferno is, we have reason to believe you might be harboring him."
I blinked. "Harboring?" I repeated, incredulous. "Are you serious? I just told you I don't even know who he was."
They didn't seem to care. Within minutes, I was in handcuffs and shoved into the back of a patrol car, taken straight to the station.
.....
By the time we arrived, my frustration had boiled over into exhaustion. They wouldn't even let me make a damn call.
I didn't know what had happened to Elena, and every time I asked, the officers brushed me off with some bullshit excuse.
"If you have relatives or friends, they'll know where to find you," one officer said casually. "If they check Inferno, they'll see the notice that you're here."
I let out a long, exasperated groan. "Oh, yeah, because that's so reassuring," I muttered.
Still, I forced myself to stay calm. One way or another, I was getting out of here, tonight or tomorrow.
Hours passed. My body ached from sitting at the counter, my head resting on my folded arms. At some point, I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew….
A firm tap on my shoulder jolted me awake.
I blinked groggily, my vision adjusting to the dimly lit station. When I looked up, I was met with the sharp, unreadable gaze of Marco.
My breath caught for a moment.
He was standing over me, his expression unreadable. But there was something in his eyes, something furious and angry.
"You okay?" he asked, voice low.
I swallowed, pushing myself upright. "Yeah," I muttered. "Thanks for asking after you abandoned me."
His jaw ticked, but he didn't argue. Instead, he shifted his gaze toward the officers at the desk.
And just like that, his demeanor changed.
The calm, unreadable man who had just been speaking to me? Gone.
The moment he turned to the cops, his presence filled the room with something almost suffocating.
He strode toward the desk with the quiet confidence of a man who was used to getting what he wanted.
"I want her out of here," he stated, his voice sharp and commanding.
The officer behind the desk barely looked up.
"And you are?"
Marco leaned down, his hands pressing against the desk as he lowered his voice to something lethal.
"Marco Montenegro," he said smoothly. "Owner of Inferno. And the man whose club was just raided under false pretenses."
The officer's posture stiffened slightly. I was actually surprised to find out that none of the officers knew who Marco was, guess he kept his hands clean of crime unlike Dante.
Marco tilted his head. "Tell me, officer," he continued, his voice deceptively calm. "Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to let a fugitive come into my establishment?"
The officer sighed, flipping through a file.
"We had a credible tip—"
Marco cut him off. "Your tip was bullshit." His tone was pure authority, dripping with irritation. "Someone's trying to destroy my business. I've spent years keeping Inferno clean. It's exclusive for a reason." He straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. "You're wasting my time. And hers."
"She was seen fleeing the scene," another officer chimed in.
Marco let out a cold chuckle. "Of course she ran. Who wouldn't when bullets start flying?" He gestured toward me. "She's a bartender, not a goddamn criminal. The fact that you're holding her here without cause is a joke."
The officer scowled. "We still need to verify—"
Marco's patience snapped.
"You've had hours to verify," he snapped. "Unless you have charges to press, I suggest you let her go. Because if this is how you waste your resources, I'll be making some calls of my own. Calls you won't like."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with pressure.
The officer clenched his jaw but finally relented.
"Fine. Take her."
Marco smirked, victorious. "Good choice."
With that, he turned back to me, extending a hand.
I hesitated. For a split second, I wanted to be stubborn, to refuse his help, to remind him that he'd left me behind earlier. But exhaustion won.
I placed my hand in his, and he pulled me up with ease.
We walked out together, the officers watching us with thinly covered irritation.
...
The night air was colder now as we stepped outside. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Marco turned to me. "Your name?"
I blinked. "You don't know my name?"
His lips twitched. "I didn't ask earlier."
I hesitated. Then, without thinking, I said, "Leona."
His brows lifted slightly. "Leona?"
I nodded, not sure why I felt bad afterwards. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like he saw too much.
Marco studied me for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, he smirked.
"All right, Leona," he murmured. "Let's get you home."
And just like that, I found myself walking beside the most dangerous man I'd ever met, wondering why, despite everything, I felt safer with him than I had in years.