Chapter 2

Maya stared at him, not sure what to say.

What kind of kidnapper kidnaps in an open place without at least a mask?

No fear of being caught, recognition, or shame.

"What do you want?" Maya asked, unsure why such a person wanted her.

With a smile, he turned to her. "You are not dumb."

"Uh?" She stared, puzzled.

"I made a bet. In two weeks, we'll see how things stand," he said as he drove smoothly through the traffic.

Maya placed a hand on her forehead. "What bet? I don't understand."

He smiled but said nothing as he drove on.

Even though both his hands were on the wheel and his gun was clearly far from his reach, she felt like one whose body was chained. Her limbs wouldn't move. Her voice barely worked.

But she mustered up courage and screamed when she saw a cop. "Help! I'm being kidnapped!"

The cop immediately got on his bike and began to chase.

When he got close, he turned off his siren and backed away gently.

"What's going on?" Maya looked through the window at the cop who had stopped, just staring at her. Her stomach dropped. The officer's face was blank—not concerned, not alarmed. Just... waiting.

"Who are you?" she asked, turning to the man beside her. Her voice cracked.

He smiled.

"Finally asking what should have been your first question."

"I'm Luciano Romon, and I run this city," he said, finally coming to a stop in front of a massive wrought-iron gate.

She didn't need him to explain further. The way he moved, the way everyone else responded—he behaved like someone who truly owned everything.

The gates opened and he drove through.

"Who did you place the bet with? Why am I the object of the bet? Why did you shoot Alex?" The questions tumbled out as she stared helplessly at him, her hands trembling in her lap.

He remained gentle, as though he wasn't the one being questioned.

"Alex isn't dead. I only shot him to teach him a lesson. He sold you to me a month ago." He handed her a photograph.

"What do you mean?" Maya's fingers shook as she took the picture from him.

In the image, Alex was shaking hands with Luciano, smiling broadly with a cheque in his other hand. The date stamp in the corner read four weeks ago.

Maya's breath caught. Her vision blurred at the edges, but she forced herself to keep looking—at Alex's smile, at the money, at how easily he'd handed her over.

"You're lying," she whispered, though she knew he wasn't.

Luciano said nothing. He didn't need to.