The night was alive with chaos—gunfire cracking through the storm, footsteps pounding against the soaked pavement, and my own ragged breath filling my ears. The rain was relentless, cold and heavy, washing the blood off my skin but not the fear out of my bones.

I ducked behind a crumbling brick wall, clutching my side. The cut on my shoulder burned, but I refused to let it slow me down. I was a soldier of my mafia family—loyal, trained, and merciless when I had to be. But tonight? Tonight, I was alone, and I was cornered.

The rival gang had come out in full force, and I had been stupid enough to think I could handle it. My gun was almost out of bullets, and my lungs were aching. The storm was so loud I could barely hear the distant growl of an approaching car.

And then, like fate—or maybe just bad luck—he appeared.

A sleek, black car rolled to a stop on the other end of the alley. The kind of car that screamed money, power, and danger. The passenger door opened, and a man stepped out. Even with the rain dripping from my lashes, I knew exactly who he was.

Bang Chan.

The boss of the Black Wolf Syndicate. Ruthless. Untouchable. The kind of man you didn’t look at unless you wanted to invite trouble. Everyone in the city knew his name, whispered it like a warning. And now, here he was, standing not twenty feet from me, the rain soaking his trench coat, his sharp eyes fixed on me like I was prey.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, voice low but carrying easily through the storm. His accent made every word sound like a promise and a threat rolled into one.

I gritted my teeth, standing straighter even though my legs were shaking. “And what, you just happen to be passing by?” I shot back, my voice shaking more than I wanted it to.

Chan tilted his head slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t believe in coincidence. You’re from his crew, aren’t you?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. My silence was enough.

Before I could react, a shadow moved behind me. One of the rival gang members lunged from the corner, gun raised. I barely had time to aim—

BANG!

The man dropped to the ground before I even realized the shot hadn’t come from me.

I turned to see Chan holding his gun, smoke curling from the barrel. His face was calm, almost bored, like shooting someone in cold blood was just another part of his night.

I stared at him, wide-eyed. “Why would you—”

“You’re bleeding,” he interrupted, sliding his gun back into his holster. “And you’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight.”

He took a slow step toward me, and I swore the rain stopped just for a moment.

“Come with me,” he said. “Or stay here and die. Your call.”

I froze, my fingers tightening around my own weapon. He was my enemy. I should’ve pulled the trigger right then. But my arm was trembling, and my body screamed for rest.

Chan’s dark eyes stayed locked on mine. “Don’t think too long,” he murmured. “I don’t repeat myself.”

The rain poured harder, soaking me to the bone. My breath shuddered out as I let my gun slip from my hand, clattering to the ground.

His hand extended toward me, palm open and steady. Against my better judgment, I took it.