3

SABINE'S POINT OF VIEW

I had just stepped out of the shower when my phone rang.

It was my dad.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said, sounding way too excited for 8 a.m. “You wanna come with me to court today? I finally caught that big-shot criminal I’ve been telling you about. Today’s his trial.”

“Really?” I paused, looking at my cleaning supplies. “Well, I was going to deep-clean the apartment, but... You know what? Why not. I’ll be there in an hour.”

I hung up, threw on a simple outfit, and ordered an Uber as I got dressed. By the time I was slipping into my sneakers, the car was already waiting outside.

The car pulled up in front of the courthouse just as the first raindrops fell. The sky above was a deep gray, heavy with unshed storms like even the universe knew today was going to change something.

I rushed up the steps and into the building, spotting my dad by the water dispenser, clutching a steaming cup between his hands.

“Boo!” I called out, grinning.

“Oh, Sweetie!” He jumped, nearly spilling the water. “You scared me.”

I burst into laughter. His startled expression was priceless.

“Gotcha. Am I too early?”

“Not at all. Court starts in ten minutes,” he said, and led me down the hallway into the courtroom.

I’d never had much interest in law or police work. But growing up with a father who wore the badge like a second skin, now rising fast toward Chief of District.

I’d been around this world my whole life.

He sat me in the front row and said proudly, “You deserve a front-row seat. After all, you’re the daughter of the officer who finally brought this bastard to justice.”

That pride in his eyes made me smile. He had worked tirelessly for three years to catch this man. And today, it was all paying off.

A few minutes later, a convoy of officers walked in, and the man in cuffs caught my attention immediately.

He wasn’t what I expected.

Dressed in a sleek, though slightly rumpled black suit, he walked like he owned the room. His hair was black, tousled like he’d been in a fight or bed or both. Even disheveled, he looked powerful. Lethal. Breathtaking.

Then I saw the tattoo peeking through the open buttons of his shirt.

Donno Della Morte.

It sent a chill down my spine. I had no idea what it meant… but it felt like something final. Like a warning.

And for some reason, he wore it with pride, the tattoo clear enough for anyone with functioning eyes to see.

I was so mesmerized that I didn’t realize he was looking right at me.

When I met his gaze, my heart skipped.

Something about him felt familiar.

I couldn’t place it, couldn’t remember ever seeing him before, but there was a flicker of recognition in my chest. Like I knew him… from a dream. Or a nightmare.

Then he smiled.

A slow, predatory curve of lips. He licked his bottom lip, and something about the way he looked at me, like I was something to be devoured.

It made me swallow hard.

Suddenly, my dad lunged forward and punched him in the jaw.

“Keep your goddamn eyes off my daughter, you sick bastard!”

The man staggered back, then laughed. Loud. Unbothered.

It was like nothing could touch him.

“Officers! Order in this courtroom!” one barked. “Any more disruptions and you’ll be removed or held in contempt.”

Thankfully, the judge hadn’t arrived yet, or my dad would’ve been in real trouble. Even cops didn’t get immunity when they broke protocol in court.

The officers lifted the man off the floor and pushed him back into his seat. He didn’t fight it. He just smiled again, that same knowing, terrifying smile.

When the judge finally entered, everyone stood. Except for him.

He just sat there, lounging in his seat like he was the one running the show.

“Sir, stand,” I heard his attorney whisper urgently.

The man glanced at him with a dead look- cold and cutting, and the attorney backed off, visibly shaken.

The charges were read.

Murder.

Drug trafficking.

Human trafficking.

Weapons smuggling.

You name it.

The prosecution laid out their case with evidence too damning to ignore. The defense tried, but it was a losing battle.

The sentence was inevitable.

The judge called for a ten-minute recess. The decision would be made after.

I got up to speak with my dad, but he was deep in discussion with his fellow officers. So instead, I wandered to the small snack bar near the doors and grabbed a mango-flavored treat, my favorite. My dad always made sure they had one for me when I came to court with him.

I took a bite, munching on the snack, the mango-flavoured treat calming me.

Then I felt it again, that intense gaze.

I looked up.

Him.

Dominic Vitello.

He was staring at me like nothing else in the world existed. Like he already owned me.

And when I looked back?

He smiled. Again.

Something about that smile made my throat tighten. I turned quickly, retreating to my seat before my dad noticed. I didn’t want another scene or blood on the courthouse floor.

The judge returned, and the court resumed.

The verdict was read.

LIFE IN PRISON.

But instead of fear or regret, the man just... laughed.

A deep, amused sound, like the whole thing was some kind of game.

I watched as the guards led him out in cuffs.

The rain was falling hard now, a downpour crashing against the courthouse steps as I followed behind them. I held my umbrella overhead and stood beside the prison van.

Before they pushed him inside, he paused.

Turned.

Stared at me.

And smiled like he knew something I didn’t.

Like I’d just entered his game.

Then he blew me a kiss... and disappeared into the van.

My dad’s hand landed on my shoulder, bringing me back to reality.

“How was that?”

“Scary,” I said honestly. “He wouldn’t stop staring at me.”

“I know, honey,” he replied, squeezing my shoulder. “But he’s gone now. Locked up for good.”

I nodded.

But as we walked to his car, my mind wasn’t with him.

It was still inside that van.

With Dominic Vitiello.

And for some reason, I knew it wouldn't be the last time I would see him.