Always A Step Ahead.

The soft, uneven banging came from the walk-in pantry. At first, I thought I was imagining it, maybe the old pipes creaking or a stray raccoon outside. Weak knocks, frantic and uneven, like someone struggling to get out but running out of strength. I froze, wine glass still in hand, eyes narrowing as the sound cut through the silence. Liam must be out on the grounds somewhere, maybe someone from my crew. I set the glass down carefully and stepped toward the pantry, heart thumping against my ribs. The smell of garlic and rosemary still lingered thick in the kitchen air, a sick reminder she’d been here. When I reached the pantry door, I tried to pull it open, and it wouldn’t budge. Jammed tight. A slow, dark laugh escaped my lips. Of course. She was always one step ahead. Always had to make her presence known in the most inconvenient ways. I stepped back, reached down to the floor, and found a dagger, not one of mine, jammed into the wood stopping it from opening. The pantry door groaned as I forced it open, revealing a dim space crammed with shelves of canned goods and bottles of wine. There, sprawled on the cold concrete floor, was one of my men. Jason. His eyes fluttered open, dazed, his face bruised and dirty.

“Jesus, Jason,” I muttered, crouching beside him. “You okay?”

He coughed, trying to clear his throat. “Boss… she… she was here. I heard something, thought I could catch her before she got out.”

His hand trembled as he reached for the wall to steady himself.

I glanced at the door again, my mind racing. “You got in her way, didn’t you?”

Jason nodded weakly, swallowing hard.

“Damn it,” I muttered. I pulled him to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in his side where he’d taken a hit. “You’re lucky she didn’t finish the job.”

Jason blinked up at me, confusion and fear flickering behind his eyes. “What the hell is she? Boss, this woman… she’s not normal.”

I let out a low chuckle, almost bitter. “You’re telling me. She’s a ghost wrapped in silk and blood... Did you see her?” I asked, hope flickering in my chest maybe, just maybe, this was the break I needed.

Jason’s throat worked as he croaked out, “I saw a bit.”

Without hesitation, I grabbed his arm and hauled him out of the pantry, guiding him to the kitchen counter. I eased him down onto a stool and spun around to snag a bottle of water from the fridge. I shoved it into his hands, watching as he gulped it down like it was liquid life.

“Tell me everything,” I said, leaning close, voice low and urgent.

He swallowed hard, steadying himself on the counter. “I was going to relieve Johnny for his shift out back. Had to cross through the kitchen because I was running late and didn’t want to risk walking all the way around the property. She must have heard me coming, because as soon as I stepped in the doorway, bam, mean right hook, no warning.”

Jason’s eyes flickered with pain and awe. “I only caught a flash. Green eyes. Piercing. Like they cut through you. She had a black hood pulled tight over her head, a mask covering her mouth and nose, but those eyes... man, they were impossible to forget. Framed by hair that wasn’t quite blonde. More like silver, maybe platinum. Shining like moonlight.”

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. Silver hair. Green eyes.

“Did she say anything? Did you hear her voice?” I pressed, leaning forward.

Jason shook his head, still breathing hard. “No words. Just a warning look, cold and sharp. Like she was telling me to stay out of her way... or else.”

I clenched my fists, knuckles whitening. “Goddamn ghost.”

His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, then he met mine again. “Boss, she’s smart, ruthless, and she knows this place inside out. Whoever she is, she knows everything.”

I nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as the weight of it settled in. She wasn’t just a shadow in my life anymore, she was becoming a storm I couldn’t ignore.

I stayed silent for a beat, watching Jason out of the corner of my eye as I moved toward the control room tucked behind the wine cellar. He was right, she knew this place. Knew our schedules, our routes, our blind spots. I hit the lights as I entered, the wall of surveillance monitors flickering to life, black and white, some color, all angled like watchful eyes over every inch of my estate. I dropped into the leather chair and pulled up the logs, fingers flying across the keyboard. Ten hours of footage. All smooth. All quiet. Too quiet.

“Come on…” I muttered.

I dragged the slider to timestamp the rough estimate of when dinner would’ve been prepped, maybe twenty minutes before I finished with the Italians. I flipped through each camera covering the back entrance, kitchen corridor, pantry hallway. Blank. Not static. Just... gone.

“Of course,” I breathed, jaw clenching.

Every time. Same trick. Segments missing, seamless but obvious if you knew what to look for. Smooth transitions that never triggered the alert system. She’d carved out the digital evidence like a surgeon.

“She hacked the feed again,” I said under my breath, pushing back from the desk.

I ran a hand through my hair, the burn of frustration igniting in my chest. Not only did she walk right through my walls, she made sure to erase the footprints too. The earpiece on my collar crackled suddenly.

“Boss?” Liam’s voice came through, tension edging his usually relaxed tone. “You’re gonna want to hear this.”

I straightened immediately. “Talk.”

“There’s a situation at Inferno. One of our guys got into it with a local crew, something about territory lines or a botched deal, but it’s messy. Real messy. They’re throwing bottles, dragging out weapons. Place is full.”

“Is it controlled?” I asked, already heading back upstairs.

“Not yet. You’ve got five officers outside and an undercover inside trying not to blow their cover. The floor manager’s losing his shit. Says he can’t reach Matteo, and the girls won’t keep dancing if blood hits the floor again.”

I gritted my teeth. Just what I needed. A goddamn PR nightmare in stilettos and neon lights.

“I’m on my way,” I said coldly. “Keep everyone breathing until I get there.”

“You got it, boss.”

The line cut. I grabbed my coat from the hall, slipping the custom holster around my shoulders as I walked. My fingers moved automatically, gun, knife, burner phone. All in place. My mind, though, was still in the kitchen. On the lasagna. On the bruises on Jason’s jaw. On silver hair and green eyes. She was getting bolder. The scent of rosemary still clung to my clothes, and for a brief second, I wondered if she’d planned it this way, pull me in, lure me close, and then send me off to handle chaos while she watched from a distance.

If she was watching, I hoped she could see the smile tugging at my lips.