Maya's POV
The takeout bag swings from my hand as I climb the stairs to Sebastian's gallery. Pad Thai from his favorite restaurant—extra peanuts, just how he likes it. My heart does that stupid flutter thing it's been doing for six months every time I think about seeing him.
I should've texted first. Sebastian always asks me to text before I visit when he's working late. "I want to give you my full attention," he'd said with that smile that makes my knees weak. But tonight I want to surprise him. Maybe we can eat together in his office, steal a few quiet moments before the weekend.
The front entrance is locked, but I remember the back door near the storage area. Sebastian showed it to me once, mentioning he sometimes uses it for deliveries.
I try the handle. It opens.
The hallway is dark except for a strip of light under a door at the far end. I hear voices—Sebastian's voice—and head toward it.
Then I freeze.
"You stole from my family." Sebastian's voice cuts through the air like a knife. But it's not his voice. Not really. It's cold. Empty. Nothing like the warm tone that whispers my name in the dark.
"Please, Mr. Moretti, I can explain—"
My blood turns to ice. Moretti? Sebastian's last name is Kane. Sebastian Kane
"There's nothing to explain." That cold voice again. "You took what wasn't yours. You knew the consequences."
I should leave. Every instinct screams at me to run. But my feet move forward instead, drawn by horrible curiosity. I press against the wall and peek through the crack in the door.
Sebastian stands in the center of the room. His back is to me, but I'd recognize him anywhere—the set of his shoulders, the way he holds himself. Except everything about his posture is different. Dangerous. Predatory.
Two men in suits flank him. They're not art collectors. They look like the men in movies who break people's kneecaps.
On the floor, a man kneels. Blood drips from his nose, staining his white shirt. His hands are tied behind his back.
"I have kids," the bleeding man begs. "Please. I'll pay it back. Every cent. Just give me time—"
"You had time." Sebastian's voice doesn't change. Doesn't soften. "You had three warnings. This is what happens when you ignore warnings."
He nods to one of the suited men. The man pulls out a gun.
The takeout bag slips from my fingers.
The sound of it hitting the floor echoes like a gunshot. Thai food containers explode across the hallway, noodles spreading like guts on the concrete.
Sebastian's head whips toward the door. Our eyes meet through the crack.
His expression—God, his expression. For one second, I see shock. Horror. Then something that looks like grief washes over his face.
"Maya—"
I run.
My shoes slip on spilled pad thai but I don't care. I sprint down the dark hallway, slam through the back door, and keep running. The night air burns my lungs. My vision blurs with tears.
That wasn't Sebastian. That couldn't be Sebastian.
But it was. It was his face. His voice. His eyes.
I don't know how I make it home. One minute I'm running through dark streets, the next I'm fumbling with my apartment key, my hands shaking so hard I drop it twice.
Inside. Lock the door. Chain it. Deadbolt. Check the windows.
My phone rings.
Sebastian's name lights up the screen. I stare at it like it's a venomous snake.
It rings and rings and finally stops. Thirty seconds later, it starts again.
I turn it off.
Then turn it back on because what if turning it off makes him angry? What if he comes here? What if those men with guns come here?
A text appears:
Sebastian: Maya, please. Let me explain.
Sebastian: I know what you saw. I know you're scared.
Sebastian: You're not in danger from me. You never could be.
Sebastian: Please answer. Please.
Sebastian: I love you. That part was never a lie.
I drop the phone like it burned me.
Love? How can he talk about love? I just saw him—I saw him order—
I can't even finish the thought.
I curl up on my couch, hugging my knees to my chest. Nothing makes sense. Sebastian brings me coffee in bed. He remembers my favorite flowers. He holds doors open and asks about my day and listens when I talk about design projects he probably finds boring.
That man in the gallery with death in his voice—that wasn't my Sebastian.
Except it was.
My phone buzzes constantly. Text after text. I don't read them. Can't read them.
Around midnight, the buzzing stops.
I don't sleep. How can I sleep? Every time I close my eyes, I see that bleeding man on the floor. I see Sebastian's cold expression. I hear that terrible voice saying, "You knew the consequences."
Dawn light creeps through my curtains. I haven't moved from the couch. My muscles ache. My eyes burn.
Someone knocks on my door.
I jump so hard I nearly fall off the couch.
"Maya?" Sebastian's voice, muffled through the door. Not cold this time. Broken. "Maya, I know you're in there. Please. Just listen. You don't have to let me in. Just listen."
I press my back against the far wall, as far from the door as possible.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says. "I could never hurt you. You have to believe that."
Do I? How can I believe anything anymore?
"My real name is Sebastian Moretti," he continues. His voice cracks. "And I need to tell you who I really am before someone else does—or before you end up in danger because of me."
*Danger?* My heart pounds so hard I think it might break through my ribs.
"The gallery is real, but it's not... it's not my only business. My family—we control territory in the city. We have for three generations. When my father died, I took over. I was nineteen years old, and suddenly I was responsible for hundreds of people and millions of dollars and—" He stops. Takes a breath. "And I became someone I'm not proud of."
I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest.
"But then I met you," he whispers. "And for the first time in fourteen years, I remembered what it felt like to be human. To be good. Every moment with you—Maya, every single moment was real. The way I feel about you is real. I know I lied about who I am, but I never lied about loving you."
Tears stream down my face. I don't wipe them away.
"Please," he begs. "Please just open the door. Look at me. You'll see—you'll see I'm still the same person you've known all along. I'm still—"
"You ordered someone killed." My voice comes out small and broken. "I heard you. I saw you."
Silence stretches between us, separated by wood and locks and shattered trust.
"Yes," he finally says. "I did."
No excuses. No explanations. Just that terrible, honest word.
"But Maya, I swear on everything—you are safe. You will always be safe. From me, from my world, from everything. I'll make sure of it."
"How?" I whisper.
"Open the door and I'll show you."
My hand reaches for the doorknob before my brain catches up. I stop, fingers hovering inches away.
"Who was that man?" I ask. "The one on the floor. What did he do?"
Sebastian's next words change everything:
"He's a human trafficker. He sells children, Maya. And three days ago, he sold a shipment of kids to a buyer overseas. The youngest was six years old."
My hand drops from the doorknob.
"That's what my family does," Sebastian continues, his voice steady now. "We control the city, yes. But we also hunt the monsters that the police can't touch. That man you saw? He deserved what he got."
I press my forehead against the door. "You're lying."
"I can prove it. Let me in and I'll prove every word."
"How do I know you won't—" I can't finish.
"Because I love you more than I've ever loved anything." His voice breaks again. "And I would rather die than see fear in your eyes when you look at me."
My phone buzzes on the couch. I ignore it. It buzzes again. And again.
"Maya," Sebastian says sharply. "Check your phone. Now."
Something in his tone makes me grab it.
Seven missed calls from my friend Jessica. The same Jessica who cheated with Derek. The same Jessica I haven't spoken to in months.
Then a text from a number I don't recognize:
*Unknown: Your boyfriend isn't who he says he is. But you already know that, don't you? Derek told me everything. You should be very, very careful, Maya. The Moretti family doesn't let people just walk away.
My blood turns to ice.
"Maya?" Sebastian's voice is urgent now. "What is it? What did you see?"
"Someone—" My voice shakes. "Someone just texted me. About you. About the Moretti family."
A string of curses from the other side of the door. "Stay inside. Lock everything. Don't open this door for anyone except me."
"You just told me to open it!"
"That was before—" He stops. "Maya, someone's watching you. Someone knows about us. And that means you're already in more danger than you realize."
Footsteps. He's leaving.
"Wait!" I scramble for the door. "You can't just—Sebastian!"
His voice comes from further away now, already down the hallway: "Marco's outside your building. Dark SUV. If anything happens—anything—you scream and he'll be there in three seconds. Do you understand?"
"Who's Marco? What's happening?"
But he's gone. I hear his footsteps pounding down the stairs, then nothing.
I stare at my phone, at that threatening message from an unknown number.
Then it buzzes again:
Unknown: Your ex-boyfriend says hello. And he says he's very sorry about what's coming next.