I had just made the worst mistake of my life. One reckless act, and now I wasn’t just seen—I was marked. And he never let his marks live.

As I hurried down the dim sidewalk, searching for an escape, my mind reeled from the night’s events. I had met Mr. Kincade earlier that day, and from the start, he’d been a condescending jerk. 

The moment he spoke, his presence struck like a thunderclap. Commanding. Unshakable. A force that demanded submission. His gaze locked onto mine, unreadable but heavy, like he already knew too much.

“Look at me when I talk to you.”

I had. Defiantly. Recklessly. Maybe that was my first mistake.

Or maybe it was letting myself feel something when I knew better.

Later that evening, at the company event, my name rang out over the speakers. Laughter rippled through the crowd, sharp as a blade. My stomach twisted as I spotted Matt and Lisa’s smug grins. They wanted a show. They wanted me to crumble.

They had no idea the fire they had ignited.

Neither did he.

His eyes pinned me. Watching. Assessing.

I hated that my pulse raced under his gaze, that my body responded to his presence as if an unspoken challenge existed between us.

I was angry at my coworkers for thinking they could break me. At myself for letting him get under my skin. At him for making me feel things I had no business feeling.

Because men like him weren’t safe.

He had the power, the resources, and the connections to find out everything I worked so hard to keep buried. And if he did?

I wouldn’t just lose this job. I’d lose everything.

So as I took the stage, I wasn’t just singing.

I was making a statement.

I was reminding myself who I was.

And when the song ended, I would do what I did best.

Disappear.

The opening notes of ABCDEFU filled the room, and I locked eyes with Mr. Kincade himself. If I was going to burn bridges, I might as well incinerate them.

I altered the lyrics, my voice cutting through the stunned silence. My steps were steady as I closed the distance between us, each one landing in rhythm with the hammering of my pulse. His face remained unreadable, but something dark flashed in his eyes.

Fuck you and your job and your stupid VPN
And your junk-ass tech, you can kiss my ass…

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He was holding himself together, but just barely, like a fuse burning down to its last spark. My heart pounded, but I refused to back down. Once the song ended, I dropped the mic at his feet and raised both middle fingers to his face.

“I quit.”

The room erupted with gasps and hushed murmurs. Adrenaline rushed through me as I strode out of the building into the cool evening air to flag down a taxi.

I couldn’t afford to be noticed. Not by Kincade. Not by anyone. I had spent years keeping my head down, staying invisible, making sure no one looked too closely. If my father found me now, I wouldn’t just lose this job, I’d lose my freedom. My life. He would drag me back and put me in chains of his own making.

The weight of his presence followed me outside.

Don’t look back. Don’t … I glanced over my shoulder.

Rabid eyes locked onto me. Wild. Unhinged. A predator stalking its next kill. His nostrils flared, his breath uneven, his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts, like he was fighting to stay in control.

The taxi rolled to a stop, but I didn’t move. Not yet. His rage burned through the night, crackling like a live wire, feeding something reckless inside me. I held his gaze, absorbing every ounce of fury he didn’t even bother to keep contained. The power in it, the danger, I let it fuel me.

A slow smile curved my lips. He stilled, his approach faltering for the first time.

Then, still smiling, I kissed my middle finger and flipped him off one last time. A final, perfect insult. The knife twisted deep.

I slid inside and slammed the door. The taxi lurched forward, and just as we pulled away, a furious roar split the air, followed by a sharp bang against the trunk, like he had tried to stop me.

The city blurred past as the neon streaks danced against the glass. A laugh burst free, pure reckless exhilaration. God, that felt good. But the high was gone in a flash, and cold doubt slithered in. The echo of his roar reverberated in my ears, unrestrained.

Did I go too far?

Mr. Kincade’s face flashed in my mind, pure unbridled rage. My stomach turned as another memory surfaced, one far worse.

The last time I had defied a powerful man, my father had beaten me for it. His lash had torn across my back for refusing to get married. Each strike carved its message into my skin, searing it into memory and making it impossible to forget.

I stepped into my apartment and kicked off my heels, collapsing onto the couch.

My phone vibrated. I glanced down and froze.

Social media had exploded. Clips of my performance flooded my feed, the comment sections a wildfire of speculation.

Then, another post caught my eye, one that had nothing to do with karaoke.

Kincade Industries Expands as Dante Kincade Absorbs Titan Tech Amid Rising Controversy

Dante Kincade.

I had no idea my new boss was The Dante Kincade. I had handed him his coffee that morning, oblivious to the fact that I was serving the most dangerous man in the city.

A sick chill skittered through me. No. No, no, no.

I clicked the link, bile rising in my throat.

The article hinted at unproven ties between Kincade Industries and the underworld elite, but I knew better than to dismiss rumors. My father had mentioned Dante once. Just once.

But that had been enough.

My father, the head of the Franco cartel, the man who had hardened me into someone who knew how to survive—feared him.

A sick wave rolled through me. Oh God. This wasn’t just a CEO I had humiliated. I had mocked a man whispered about in the darkest circles. A legend among the ruthless, even the most hardened criminals never wanted to face.

My breath came in short, jagged gasps. My anonymity was gone. My face was everywhere.

Only one question remained: who would get to me first—my family, Marcos, or Dante?

I had seen attraction in his eyes before, but that was gone now, burned away, replaced by something cold and merciless. Fury. Humiliation. No one ever challenged or disrespected a man like him. And I had done both in front of his entire company. And attraction? That would never save me.

I scrambled to pack. Clothes. Cash. The essentials. My hands shook as I zipped my duffel bag.

If my father found me, he would drag me back. And Marcos Montoya would be waiting. He didn’t just kill; he enjoyed it. Blood was his currency, pain, his pleasure. A monster wearing a man’s face. And my father? He was more than willing to hand me over to the devil himself.

To him, I was nothing more than a bargaining chip to secure his alliance with the Montoya cartel.

My scars ached, the past pain clawing its way back to the surface.

I slung the bag over my shoulder, secured Mr. Buttons in my dog pouch hoodie, and grabbed my guitar. My apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt like a death trap.

With every step toward the door, the crushing weight eased, replaced by burning determination.

I would not go back. I had fought too hard for my freedom.

But deep in my gut, fear whispered, low and insidious.

I wasn’t just running from my father and Marcos anymore.

I was running from Dante Kincade.

And men like them?

They never forgave. They never forgot.

They didn’t stop until you were ruined. Broken. Or buried.