Captured by the King

Chapter 14- Collision Course

My muscles screamed as I moved, sore from yesterday's weapons training, but there was no time to think about that. Lorenzo had me checking the streets near the studio—not for fun. "You need to see the shadows before they see you," he'd said, calm but sharp.

The city at night felt alive, dangerous. Every flickering streetlight threw shadows that could hide someone—or a dozen someone's. Every distant footstep made me jump.

Then my phone buzzed. Isabelle. She'd just left the studio, probably taking the shortcut I begged her not to. My stomach dropped.

"Izzy..." I whispered.

Lorenzo's eyes snapped to me, sharp and focused. "Che c'è?"

"She's outside," I said, fumbling with my phone. "She just texted... I think she's in trouble."

His jaw tightened. "Stay calm. Let me see."

We moved down the alley, shadows wrapping around us. My pulse thumped. Something flickered just beyond a fire escape—a movement too quick to be safe. My stomach lurched.

Then I saw her. Isabelle. She was hunched over, surrounded by men. Too many men. My throat went dry.

"Lorenzo..." I barely whispered.

His hand shot to my shoulder, gripping me tight, almost crushing me. For a split second, I saw it in his eyes—fear. Real fear. He held me close, like if he didn't, I'd be ripped from him.

"Lilia, stay close," he murmured, voice low. I wanted to run forward, throw myself between them, but there were too many. Too fast. Too close. Each shadow moved like it belonged in a nightmare.

Izzy cried out, a sound that ripped through me. I could feel my fists clench, my blood boil. And then, just like that, they were gone. A blur of leather jackets and shadows swallowed them into the night.

I ran to Isabelle, my legs finally moving. Lorenzo followed, eyes scanning, hand still firm on my back. She was on the ground, sweatshirt torn, blood running down her forehead.

"Izzy... are you okay?" I asked, panic in my voice.

She tried to smile, but it faltered. "I... I didn't think anyone would... be here..."

"You're okay now," I said, pressing my hand to her wound. "I've got you."

She clung to me like I was the only thing keeping her up, and I felt that fierce protective surge. She's my sister, my ride-or-die.

Lorenzo's eyes stayed on the alley, sharp, alert. "Too many of them. I couldn't... fare niente alone," he admitted quietly. His hand on my back was steady, but tense, like he was bracing for more.

The city felt too quiet now, like it was holding its breath. I could feel shadows moving, lurking. Waiting.

I clenched my fists. "I'm getting them back," I muttered under my breath. A sneer twisted my lips—something dark, sharp, something I'd never let anyone see. Not even Lorenzo.

He glanced at me, reading me in that way only he could. His hand loosened just a little. "Ready to step into the shadows with me?" he asked, voice low, dangerous.

I looked at him, at the streets, at Isabelle, and nodded. "Yeah," I said, my voice steady, cold. "I'm ready."

And as we disappeared into the night, I knew one thing—nothing would ever be the same.