Chapter 5 - The Line Crossed
The kiss wasn't gentle.
It was hungry, possessive, and desperate—a collision of two people who had spent too long surviving in the dark and suddenly found themselves standing in the light.
Sadi’s breath hitched, her hands flying up to grip the leather lapels of his jacket as his mouth devoured hers with a fierce, punishing intensity. The sterile roar of the bar around them—the clinking glasses, the distant jukebox, the low hum of conversation—evaporated into nothingness.
When Vincent finally pulled back, his chest was heaving beneath his t-shirt, his dark eyes burning with an unmasked hunger that terrified her more than any gun ever could.
“That,” Vincent rasped, his thumb tracing the swollen line of her lower lip, “is what I want.”
Sadi stood frozen against him, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to step back, to run, to protect herself from the terrifying gravity of a man who owned half the city.
Instead, she leaned back into his touch, her fingers curling into his jacket.
“You’re a dangerous man, Vincent Costa,” she whispered, though her voice lacked any real conviction.
“I told you,” he murmured against her temple, his lips brushing her skin. “I don’t pretend.”
Before she could answer, the front door of the Continental flew open, shattering the heavy silence of the corner.
Paulie rushed in, his face pale, his heavy coat soaked with rain. He stopped dead when he saw Sadi pressed against Vincent in the booth, but urgency overrode etiquette.
“Boss,” Paulie panted, stepping closer. “We got a problem. The O’Connors didn't like losing that debt. They think you’re weak because you let a girl walk out with you on Friday. They’re hitting the North Side warehouse tonight.”
Vincent’s entire body went rigid.
The heat of the moment vanished instantly, replaced by the chilling, terrifying stillness of a dormant landmine detonating. His eyes turned black as midnight.
He looked down at Sadi, his hands sliding reluctantly from her waist.
“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice dropping into a lethal, cold register.
“Vincent, no,” Sadi grabbed his arm. “If they’re hitting the North Side because of me—because of Tommy—”
“This isn't about you anymore,” Vincent interrupted, gently but firmly removing her hand from his arm. He pulled a sleek, heavy Beretta from his shoulder holster, checking the magazine with a practiced click before sliding it back into place. “This is about someone forgetting who owns this city.”
He looked at Paulie. “Get the car ready. Let’s go remind them.”
As Vincent turned and walked toward the exit with long, purposeful strides, Sadi watched him go, a cold terror gripping her heart.
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She had wanted a shield for four hours.
Now, she realized with sickening clarity, she had walked straight into a war—and she couldn't live with herself if she let him fight it alone.
