You’ve always kept your head down—working a late-night job at a diner on the edge of the city, saving money, staying out of trouble. The world is dangerous, and you know better than to get involved with people who live in the dark.

But one night, just past midnight, he walks in.

Alone. Bleeding. Cold eyes that scan the room like a weapon.

You want to look away, but you can’t.

He sits in your section. You pour his coffee with shaking hands, and he gives you a smirk like he knows you’re scared—and he likes it. But instead of being cruel, he does something strange:

He leaves you a note under his cup.

“You didn’t see anything. Don’t talk to anyone. And if anyone comes looking, call this number.” Underneath it: a number with no name.

You don’t know who he is, or what kind of danger just walked into your life. But when armed men show up the next night asking questions, you realize you’ve already been pulled into something far bigger than you.

And just like that, Dante Valenti, a rising figure in the underground Mafia, shows up at your door—this time not bleeding, but angry.

“You should’ve listened,” he growls. “Now you’re involved. And if you want to stay alive, you stay close to me.”