Chapter 3 - The Cold Reality of the Underworld
The peace of the construction site didn't last.
A week later,
a group of men I had never seen before arrived at my office.
They didn't have blueprints,
and they didn't have hard hats.
They had heavy coats and eyes that looked like they had forgotten how to smile.
"Ms. Carter?"
the lead man asked,
his voice like sandpaper on wood.
"We’re here on behalf of the Falcone Group."
"We think your designs for the Kang project could use a few...
adjustments."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Even a naive architect like me knew that the Falcones were the Kangs' only real rivals.
"The designs are finalized,"
I said,
trying to keep my hand from reaching for the phone.
"Finalized by whom?"
he sneered,
leaning over my desk.
"Kang is a ghost."
"He builds monuments to himself while he bleeds the city dry."
"You should work for people who actually exist."
He placed a hand on my blueprints,
the same ones I had worked on until three in the morning.
"Walk away,
little girl,"
"before the hotel becomes your monument."
They left as quickly as they had arrived,
leaving the scent of cheap tobacco and a cold,
hollow fear.
I didn't call the police.
I called the only number I had that I knew could make a person disappear.
Daniel Kang answered on the first ring.
"Speak,"
was all he said.
"The Falcones were here,"
I whispered,
my voice finally breaking.
The silence on the other end was more terrifying than the men in my office.
"Wait there,"
Daniel said,
and the line went dead.
Thirty minutes later,
the same black SUV arrived.
This time,
Daniel didn't get out.
The door opened,
and the bodyguard from the subway gestured for me to get in.
We drove in a silence that felt like a funeral procession.
We arrived at a private club in the Meatpacking District,
a place with no sign and a heavy steel door.
Inside,
the air was thick with the scent of leather and expensive scotch.
Daniel was sitting in a booth,
the shadows dancing across his face.
"Tell me exactly what they said,"
he commanded.
I told him everything,
the threats,
the sneer,
the way they had touched my work.
He listened with a stillness that made my skin crawl.
When I finished,
he looked at his bodyguard.
"The Falcones have forgotten their place,"
Daniel said softly.
"They think my hotel is a target."
"They don't realize it's a fortress."
He turned to me,
his hand reaching out to touch my cheek,
his skin cold and yet strangely comforting.
"Don't worry about the blueprints,
Alana,"
he said,
using my first name for the first time.
"From this moment on,"
"no one in this city will touch you again."
"Including them."
I realized then that the "safe" shoulder from the subway wasn't a refuge.
May you like
It was an anchor,
pulling me deep into a sea of blood and shadow.
