The Bruises Beneath Her Sleeves Were the One Secret Elena Cruz Thought She Could Hide—Until Chicago’s Most Feared Man Saw Them, Set Down His Pen, and Quietly Began Uncovering a Betrayal That Reached Far Beyond Her Home

The dust exploded into the air as the door blew inward.

Marcus Miller spun around so fast he nearly knocked over his steel folding chair. A heavy silver revolver was clutched in his right hand, its barrel jerking wildly toward the entrance. In the corner of the small, windowless room, eighteen-year-old Leo Cruz was slumped against a damp cinderblock wall, his face bruised, his right arm strapped in a makeshift sling made of duct tape and dirty gauze.

“What the—?” Marcus stammered, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief as he locked eyes with Damian Reyes.

Marcus might not have met Damian face-to-face before, but every criminal boss in Chicago knew the face of the man who controlled half the city’s financial arteries.

“Reyes,” Marcus choked out, his finger tightening on the trigger. “How the hell did you—?”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence.

Victor moved with terrifying speed, stepping around the shattered doorframe and firing a non-lethal compressed gas round directly into Marcus’s shoulder. The impact hit Marcus like a freight train, spinning him around and sending the revolver clattering across the concrete floor.

Before Marcus could scream, Damian closed the distance between them, grabbed the front of Marcus’s leather jacket, and slammed him against the concrete wall with enough force to rattle the teeth in his skull.

“You made a mistake, Marcus,” Damian whispered, his voice dangerously quiet, vibrating with controlled fury.

Marcus gasped for air, his face turning red against the rough surface of the wall. “You... you can’t touch me. The council... the deal... they’ll ruin you—”

“The council doesn’t know who you are,” Damian interrupted coldly. “And by morning, neither will anyone else.”

Victor grabbed Marcus by the collar, dragging him off the wall and handcuffing his wrists behind his back with plastic zip-ties pulled down with bone-crushing tightness. “He’s all yours, boss.”

Damian didn’t look back at Marcus. He turned immediately toward the corner of the room where Leo was staring up at them in wide-eyed shock.

“Leo?” Damian asked, his tone softening just fractionally as he knelt beside the injured boy.

“Are you... are you Mr. Reyes?” Leo whispered, wincing as he tried to shift his weight. “My sister... is Elena okay?”

“Your sister is safe back at the estate,” Damian said, carefully cutting the duct tape off Leo’s arm with a small tactical blade. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” Leo gasped, teeth gritted against the pain.

Victor stepped over, lifting the boy easily by his uninjured arm. “I’ve got him. Let’s get out of here before Miller’s backup realizes what happened.”

As they dragged a cursing, thrashing Marcus Miller toward the freight elevator, Damian paused at the threshold of the room. He looked back at Marcus, who was glaring daggers through bloodshot eyes.

“Tell me who’s backing you on the municipal council,” Damian said softly.

“Go to hell, Reyes,” Marcus spat, blood dripping from his lip.

Damian didn’t blink. “You thought Elena was a weak link you could exploit. But you forgot one fundamental rule of this city, Marcus.”