RICO
He had always told himself the past didn't matter.
That what shaped him now was discipline, pain, and control—not memory.
But memory had a way of resurfacing when everything else started to break.
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Even inside the moving vehicle, even with the mission in motion, Rico's mind drifted somewhere he had buried for years.
Back to a time when things were simpler.
Not safe.
Not peaceful.
Just… less complicated.
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High school.
Senior corridor.
Noise, laughter, chaos.
And always, at the edge of it—
her.
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Bella Collins.
Back then, she wasn't someone tied to power or bloodlines or mafia history.
She was just a girl who appeared occasionally in the senior block, usually walking with a friend who came to see her brother.
She never stayed long.
She never needed to.
But somehow, she always left something behind.
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Rico remembered the first time he noticed her properly.
She had been standing near the staircase, waiting for her friend, unaware of how many eyes were already on her.
Not because she tried to be seen.
But because she simply was.
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He had told himself it was nothing.
Just curiosity.
Just passing attention.
But it wasn't.
Not even then.
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She laughed once that day—soft, unguarded, completely unaware of the world watching her.
And something in him shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
But permanently.
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After that, he started noticing her more often.
How she always checked behind her before leaving.
How she helped her friend adjust her bag.
How she never lingered where she didn't belong.
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And how she never once looked at him.
That was the part he remembered most.
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Because Rico Zander, even then, was not invisible.
People noticed him.
Feared him.
Respected him.
Avoided him.
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But Bella Collins walked past him once without even realizing who he was.
And instead of feeling insulted…
he felt intrigued.
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That was the first mistake.
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NOW
The sound of movement outside the convoy pulled him back sharply.
Reality snapped into place again.
Bella was not in a school hallway anymore.
And he was no longer a boy watching from a distance.
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He was a man in a war.
And she was at the center of it.
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Rico's jaw tightened as the convoy sped forward.
But the memory didn't leave.
It never really had.
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Because even after everything—
after the marriage,
after the secrets,
after the betrayal woven into their families like a curse—
there was still something unchanged underneath it all.
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She had always affected him.
Even before he understood why.
Even before he allowed himself to feel anything.
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And now, the thought of her in danger did something worse than anger.
It stripped him.
Clean.
Cold.
Uncontrolled.
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"Hold on," Marco said beside him.
But Rico was already moving.
Already calculating.
Already becoming something sharper than revenge.
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Because this time, it wasn't just about correcting a betrayal.
It wasn't just about reclaiming control.
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It was about the girl who had unknowingly existed in his life long before war ever began.
And the terrifying realization that he had never stopped noticing her.
Not once.
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The convoy surged forward.
And Rico Zander stopped being a man holding back darkness…
and became the darkness itself moving to take her back.