Chapter 8 Smoke and Secrets
The sound of the gunshot wouldn’t stop echoing in her head.
Zuri stood frozen by the window, her breath fogging the glass. Down below, chaos had broken loose—engines roaring, voices shouting, boots pounding on concrete.
Amani moved like a storm through it all, quick, brutal, controlled. The man he’d tackled didn’t stand a chance. In one clean motion, Amani dragged him to his feet and slammed him against the side of a bike.
The word Moretti still hung in the air.
Her name. Her blood. Her curse.
Zuri stepped back from the window, her stomach twisting. It was happening again—the chase, the fear, the walls closing in.
She pressed her hand against her mouth to keep from making a sound.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs, growing louder. She scrambled to the door, backing away just as it swung open.
Amani filled the doorway, breathing hard, his shirt streaked with dirt and blood. Behind him, two brothers hauled in a man in a dark coat—the same one from the alley. His nose was bleeding, eyes wild.
“Sit him down,” Amani ordered.
They shoved the man into a chair. He winced, blood running down his chin.
Zuri’s pulse raced as Amani turned to her, eyes dark and unreadable.
“You know him?”
She shook her head, too fast. “No.”
The stranger laughed, the sound wet and ugly. “She knows me. Maybe not the face, but the name. Moretti always remembers her own.”
Zuri’s chest caved in.
Amani’s gaze flicked between them. “Start talking.”
The man spit blood on the floor, sneering. “She’s the boss’s daughter. Golden girl gone missing. Whole city’s been looking for her.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
Zuri’s knees went weak. Her throat closed.
Amani turned slowly toward her, voice low. “Boss’s daughter?”
She couldn’t answer.
“Zuri,” he said again, stepping closer. “Tell me he’s lying.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
The man in the chair laughed again, low and broken. “You think you can hide, princess? Your daddy’s got men on every block. They won’t stop until you’re back in a cage where you belong.”
Amani moved fast. His fist cracked across the man’s face, silencing him in one brutal hit.
“Watch your mouth.”
Blood dripped from the man’s nose as he slumped forward, groaning.
Amani turned back to Zuri. His voice dropped, softer now, but sharper too. “You’re gonna tell me everything. Right now.”
She backed away until the wall stopped her. Her hands trembled at her sides. “You don’t understand—”
“Then make me understand,” he cut in, his voice like gravel. “Because right now, I’ve got your enemies bleeding in my bar and half my brothers thinking I lost my damn mind for protecting you.”
Zuri’s eyes burned. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.
“I didn’t want to drag anyone into this,” she whispered.
“Too late.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything she’d tried to bury.
Then she spoke. The words came out broken, small. “My family runs the Syndicate. The Moretti name means power, control, blood. I ran because I couldn’t stomach it anymore. The things they did—the things they made me watch—” Her voice cracked. “I thought if I left, I could disappear.”
Amani’s jaw clenched. He didn’t speak.
She swallowed hard. “But they don’t let people disappear. Not blood. Not daughters.”
He took a step closer. “You should’ve told me.”
Zuri met his eyes, something fierce and fragile in hers. “Would you have believed me? Or just handed me over to save your club?”
He stared at her for a long, tense moment. Then he turned away, running a hand over his face.
Downstairs, muffled voices rose—brothers moving, preparing for what came next.
Amani’s tone dropped, steady but cold. “You brought a war to my door, Zuri. They won’t stop. Not until one of us is dead.”
Her voice shook. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” he said roughly. “But that doesn’t change what’s coming.”
He glanced toward the man slumped in the chair. “They’re tracking you. Maybe through a phone, maybe something else.” He crouched, yanking the man’s collar. “How’d you find her?”
The man spat blood again, smirking. “You think she ran without leaving a trail? The Syndicate owns half this town. You think your little club scares them?”
Amani’s hand tightened around his throat. “Try me.”
The man choked, coughing. “You’re already dead, Enforcer. They’re coming.”
Amani slammed him back into the chair, jaw tight. “Lock him in the basement. I’ll deal with him later.”
The brothers obeyed without question, dragging the half-conscious man out of the room.
When they were gone, silence filled the space again.
Zuri stood by the window, trembling.
Amani turned to her. “You said your family runs the Syndicate?”
She nodded.
He moved closer until he was standing right in front of her, his voice low. “That means you’re not just some runaway. You’re the reason the city’s bleeding.”
Her eyes met his. “You think I don’t know that?”
Something shifted in his expression—not forgiveness, not yet, but understanding.
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His touch was unexpectedly gentle. “You should’ve told me the truth.”
“I couldn’t,” she whispered. “Every person who’s ever tried to help me ended up dead.”
His hand lingered by her cheek. “I’m not every person.”
Zuri’s breath caught. “Then what are you?”
A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth. “The man who just made it his job to keep you alive.”
Her heart stuttered.
Down below, engines rumbled again, restless and ready.
Amani turned toward the door. “Get some sleep, princess. Tomorrow, the wolves start circling.”
When he was gone, Zuri sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. The word princess shouldn’t have hit her so hard.
But for the first time in years, it didn’t sound like a curse.
Outside, thunder rolled in the distance, echoing the storm already closing in around them.
And Zuri knew—there was no running anymore.
The war had just begun.
