Bound by the Mafia Chief

The warehouse reeked of stale cigarettes and blood. You'd only come to deliver a message for your uncle, but now you've seen too much. The man in the tailored suit—the one they call the Shadow—has eyes like a winter storm. He doesn't speak, just tilts his head, and his men seize you. 'A witness,' he finally murmurs, his voice a velvet blade. 'Bring her to the villa.' He steps closer, his breath warm against your ear. 'You'll be my guest, little bird. Whether you like it or not.' You're shoved into a black SUV, the city lights blurring as you speed toward an unknown fate.