The Assassins Kiss

Chapter 5

Ezra's POV

The blaring of the alarms cuts through the silence, sending a jolt through me.

It's loud enough to make my pulse spike. This definitely isn't my father. He's too much of a coward to fight anyone head-on. No, this is something else entirely.

Luca bursts into the room, his expression hard and alert, moving with the quick, controlled urgency of someone used to chaos. He doesn't waste time.

"This better not be your doing," he spits out, his eyes narrowing on me.

Without waiting for an answer, he yanks the chains free from the couch. "You leave, and we'll come after you. Understand?"

I don't trust him, but I nod. What else can I do? If I don't go along with this for now, I'll be back in those chains—and that's not something I can afford.

Not when there's a chance to find out what the hell is happening.

We walk out into the living room. The atmosphere shifts instantly—charged, like something is about to explode.

Luca steps to the side, gesturing to a figure standing just past the doorway.

"Who's she?" he asks, his eyes flicking toward the person, voice cold and calculating.

He glances at me.

"Oh, I'm just an innocent bystander," I smile, forcing nonchalance into my tone, hoping the lie comes off clean. "Who are you?"

"The Russian Cartel," the man answers curtly, his voice thick with an accent I can't quite place. He steps forward, his glare turning to stone. "One of you killed our leader last night."

I raise my hand, the motion casual, almost flippant. "Oh, that was me," I say, offering a careless smile.

Wait... I was supposed to be an innocent bystander, wasn't I?

"In my defense," I say, pointing at Luca with a shrug, "it was meant for him."

Luca stiffens, his jaw tightening. He doesn't say anything, but I can feel the heat of his glare.

The Russian steps forward, his presence looming as he orders, "You're coming with us."

"No, she's not." A deep voice cuts through the tension like a blade. It's Leo—Leonardo, or Leo as everyone calls him. He's their father.

His voice carries authority, the kind that commands silence. And as much as I try to ignore it, something about his presence is undeniably powerful.

I glance at him, noting the sharpness in his eyes—the kind of calculating gaze that knows how to get what it wants.

A beat of silence.

Then the Russian smirks, his expression darkening. "Fine," he says, tone dropping to a low, dangerous pitch. "I challenge the girl to hand-to-hand combat."

I raise an eyebrow. "Ok, fine by me." My shrug is deliberate, nonchalant.

His eyes glint with a sick kind of satisfaction. "If she loses, she comes with us. If she wins, she stays with you." He gives me a mocking once-over, like I'm some rag doll he can toss aside with a flick of his wrist.

I don't let it faze me.

"Outside we go," I announce, my voice firm and steady. I don't wait for anyone to make a move before I head toward the door, my steps confident, like I've got this whole situation under control.

Behind me, I hear Luca's voice, quiet but with a hint of disbelief. "You're crazy, you know that right?"

I don't answer him. I'm already walking out, and all I can think about is how much worse this shit is getting by the minute.