Chapter 1: Witness
The rain hit like icy bullets, soaking through Serena Vega’s thin, worn-out leather jacket and plastering her dark curls to her face. The cold bit into her skin, seeping through her boots and settling in her bones as she hurried across the docks. The industrial lights buzzed weakly above her, flickering like they might give up at any moment. Shadows stretched long and threatening, dancing with the sway of the rain-soaked night.
The damp paper-wrapped painting in her arms was heavier than it should have been—or maybe her nerves just made everything feel like lead. She kept glancing over her shoulder, her stomach twisting with unease. The dockyards were quiet, too quiet, save for the occasional groan of metal from a cargo ship swaying in the distance.
“This is stupid,” she muttered under her breath. “Who even deals with this late at night?”
But desperation was a loud voice in her head. Her landlord’s threats still echoed: “You’ve got until Friday, Vega. No rent, no apartment.” Serena clenched her jaw. The gallery owner had promised a fat bonus if she made the delivery tonight, and she needed every damn cent.
She approached Warehouse 17, the address scrawled in looping handwriting on the delivery slip. Light spilled out from the crack in the metal door, cutting through the rainy darkness. It was strange—too lively for an art exchange. She hesitated, her gut twisting. Something felt off.
Her fingers hovered over the handle. She could just leave the package at the door and walk away. She’d seen enough movies to know curiosity killed the cat—and the broke artist. But the sound of raised voices inside made her pause.
Then she heard it: a low, gravelly voice dripping with authority, sharp as a knife.
“You think I’m fucking stupid, Marino? You thought you could skim off the top, and I wouldn’t notice?”
Serena froze, her pulse hammering. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, but her feet wouldn’t move. She shifted closer, pressing her ear against the cold metal.
Another voice—a pleading one—cut through the rain. “It was a mistake, Mr. Valenti. I swear to God, I didn’t mean—”
A loud crack echoed inside. The kind of sound that didn’t leave much room for guessing. A gunshot.
Serena’s breath hitched, panic surging through her veins. Her knees wobbled, threatening to give out. She peeked through the small gap in the door, and what she saw stopped her heart.
The Murder
A man knelt in the middle of the concrete floor, his face pale and glistening with sweat. Blood dripped from a fresh cut on his cheek, staining his white dress shirt. He was shaking, his hands tied behind his back with thick rope.
Across from him, standing with calm precision, was the source of the voice: Luca Valenti. His tailored black suit clung to his tall, broad frame like it was made for sin. His dark hair was slicked back, water droplets clinging to the strands, and his jaw was set in a hard line.
But it was his eyes that sent a shiver down Serena’s spine. They were cold, calculated—like he’d already decided this man’s fate the moment he walked in.
Luca raised the gun, a sleek black pistol that looked too casual in his hand. His finger rested on the trigger with a confidence that said this wasn’t his first time pulling it.
The kneeling man sobbed, shaking his head frantically. “Please, Mr. Valenti, I can fix this. Just give me another chance—”
Luca’s lip curled in a faint smirk, the kind that promised no second chances. “You had your chance, Marino. Now you’re just wasting my fucking time.”
The shot came without warning, silenced but final. Blood sprayed across the concrete, stark against the gray. Marino slumped forward, his head hitting the floor with a sickening thud.
Serena stumbled back from the door, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. What the fuck had she just walked into?
But in her panic, she wasn’t quiet enough.
The door creaked as she moved, and before she could stop herself, a sharp gasp escaped her lips.
Luca’s head snapped toward the sound, his dark eyes locking onto hers through the narrow crack.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low but dangerous. He signaled sharply, and two men in suits who had been standing in the shadows stepped forward like dogs released from their leash.
The Chase
Serena turned and ran. Her boots slapped against the wet pavement as she bolted into the maze of shipping containers, her breath ragged and her pulse deafening in her ears.
Behind her, heavy footsteps and shouts broke the eerie quiet. “Get her!” one of them barked.
Her chest heaved as she pushed herself harder, zigzagging through the rows of containers. She didn’t dare look back. Adrenaline surged through her veins, but fear was a heavy weight dragging her down.
Her grip on the painting faltered, and it slipped from her hands, hitting the ground with a soggy thud. She ignored it, the realization that she was probably leaving a trail only fueling her panic.
She rounded a corner too sharply and slipped, her feet flying out from under her. Pain exploded in her knee as it hit the pavement, but she didn’t have time to cry out. She scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding wildly.
She was fast, but they were faster.
A hand closed around her arm, yanking her back with brutal force.
“Let me go!” she screamed, twisting and thrashing, but the man’s grip was unrelenting.
Another figure loomed, his silhouette towering in the dim light. He was calm, almost lazy in his approach, as if he already knew how this would end.
And then she saw him. Luca Valenti.
He stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, watching her with a predator’s gaze. His lips curled into a slow, dark smile, like a wolf who had just cornered its prey.
“You should’ve minded your own business, bella,” he said, his voice a smooth, dangerous drawl.
Serena’s heart sank. She knew, without a doubt, her life would never be the same.
Chapter 2: Captured
Serena’s breaths came fast and shallow as Luca stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking against the wet pavement with an unhurried rhythm. He was enjoying this. Every fucking second of it. His lips quirked into a faint smirk, as if her terror was nothing more than a source of amusement……
More on….
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/entwined-in-darkness-madison-day/1146651221?ean=2940184544533
Short Story Sparks 
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