"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
-"What's left unsaid will always find a way to scream."-
_____________________________
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They left the arena.
"No car?" Luca asked, following when they crossed the street.
"We're not going far," Kaia responded, falling into a New Yorker's pace. He kept up beside her, walking on the side closest to the road as cars passed.
This city seemed normal in the daylight. No King or enforcers littered the streets—just normal people, rushing to their jobs or wherever they went. It reminded him of the NYC before the King; the one his parents took him to when he was just a kid.
He had fond memories of that New York. It was Autumn then, with orange leaves falling over the benches in Central Park, a cold breeze biting at his face as his parents took him up to the top of the Empire State Building.
His dad lifted him up on his shoulders to look through the observation deck. His mom pointed out Times Square to him, glimmering with a million colorful lights. So bright that it reflected on their skin.
He'd never been so high up before.
That New York was the greatest thing he'd ever seen as a child. He'd never seen a city so bright.
Much of that was still here, but not quite the same. Here in the daylight, it felt like he was seeing it for the first time again, the New York he remembered as a child.
He looked down at Kaia beside him. She kept her gaze ahead, expression unreadable, her stride fluid and steady like she owned the pavement. People moved around her like water around stone—she didn't dodge or yield, just walked. Controlled. Lethal in her stillness.
The park came into view ahead—small, tucked between tall buildings with rust-colored trees and stone benches that curled around its edges. A few kids screamed from a jungle gym in the distance, pigeons pecked lazily near an old man feeding them, and early risers passed with coffee cups and tired eyes. The world, for all its chaos, felt oddly soft here.
Kaia led him through the gate, past a wrought-iron fence overgrown with ivy. She slowed only when they reached a bench under a sprawling tree that hadn't lost all its leaves. The canopy cast a dappled shadow, filtering the morning light over her face.
Luca glanced around, noting the exits, the couple on the path nearby, the jogger with headphones who passed twice. He slid his hands into his coat pockets and arched a brow.
"You're not going to kill me, correct?" he asked dryly.
Her lips twitched. "Not today."
"Comforting," he muttered. "Though I can't tell if that was a joke or a warning."
