Siena’s POV

“You failed the drug test, Siena”

Those words alone were enough to rip the air from my lungs.

"What? No. That's not possible. I don't…I've never…"

Coach Matteo tossed the report across the desk. His hands were shaking. "The results came in from WADA this morning. High traces of oxandrolone. Steroids."

My head spun. "This has to be a mistake. I’ve never touched anything. I eat kale and cry about it. This is… this is sabotage."

He didn’t argue. Just gave me that sad look coaches give when they’ve already moved on to the next hopeful sprinter.

I stood up. "We need to appeal. Retest me. I’ll pee in a thousand cups if I have to."

"Siena…"

"No! I have worked my whole life for this! This is my career, my entire existence. I’ve lived clean all my life and you know that."

He sighed. "Your father has already been notified."

My stomach dropped. "He what?"

"He’s sending someone."

"Who?"

The door behind me creaked open.

"That would be me," a cold voice said.

I turned.

A tall man in a charcoal suit stood like a statue in the doorway. Jet-black hair. Pale blue eyes that cut sharper than blades. Hands in his pockets, relaxed, dangerous.

"Who the hell are you?" I snapped.

He stepped inside, calm as if all was well with the world. "Aleksandr Volkov. I’m here to clean up your mess. You can call me Sasha."

My brain shot down for a moment. “You are not with WADA, are you?”

“Do I look like someone who gives a fuck about drug enforcement?” he scoffed.

“Then who sent you,” I began to ask, but he gave me a look that shut me up immediately. “Let’s just say your father made a call.”

“Of course, he did,” I mumbled. “Because my career crisis clearly needs a mafia intervention.”

Volkov raised an eyebrow. “You are more self-aware than I expected.” There’s just something about him, I thought. My life is crashing down around me, and he seems to not be taking it seriously. Is he mocking me or what? Well, I don’t have the time for this.

I ignored him and turned to coach to ask. “We can still appeal right”, I desperately pleaded with my eyes. “Please, tell me this isn’t over.”

“Siena, with this kind of ban, you are looking at a four-year ban minimum. And the sponsors…”

“Screw the sponsors! I didn’t do it!” I was trying to calm down, I really was, but even deep breaths doesn’t seem to be working. This can’t be the end of my career, I have been working so hard, all of these came out of sheer grit and determination. You can’t tell me of all that is about to go down the drain. And my father? I don’t want him interfering in my life!

“That doesn’t matter anymore”, coach cut through my thought.

I turned to Volkov. “Are you a PR guy or something?” I mean, since he is here he might as well be useful. He smiled like a shark. “Or something.”

Gosh! I hated him already, and yet, I couldn’t look away.

“You have five minutes to grab everything you need,” he said. “We are leaving.”

“Leaving to where?”

“Somewhere your enemies cannot follow.”

“Enemies?” I blinked. “You make it sound as if I am in a war.”

He looked me dead in the eye and said seriously. “You are. You just didn’t realize it until now.”

Now he was making me scared. What does he mean I am in war? With who? My Dad’s mafia rivals? Other athletes? Who could possibly want to harm me right now? Dread filled me and I was shaking inside. But instead, I laughed bitterly and said, “And what are you? My knight in designer armor?”

“No”, he simply answered. “I am the man who keeps you alive long enough to make to make it to the Olympics… if you are lucky.”

Coach Mateo who had been watching the exchange quietly cleared his throat and said, “Siena, you should go. Whoever set this up… they are serious. I had to break in last night. Someone trashed the office looking for your files.”

“What?!”

Volkov didn’t flinch. Instead he said, “Time’s up. You can call your nutritionist on the road.”

I turned to him again. This time visibly glaring. “You think I am just going to walk out of here with a stranger?” He pulled out a small device from a pocket and placed it on the desk. It was a flash drive.

“What’s that?, I asked.

“Security footage. Of someone breaking into your apartment last night.”

My mouth went dry.

“I already handled it,” he added. “But you are on a clock, Siena. Whoever did this? They’re not just trying to ruin your career. They want you humiliated. Destroyed. Hell, maybe even worse! Just come with me and we need to leave right now”

Coach Mateo’s voice was very low. “Go. Just go, Siena.”

I hesitated.

Volkov opened the door, his voice even colder than before. “You can stay here and wait for the vultures. Or you can come with me and we will figure this out together, while keeping you alive.”

I grabbed my duffel and followed him. But as soon as we stepped into the hallway, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into him. “What now,” I snapped.

He leaned in close, his breath brushing my ear. “We are being watched. Don’t look back, just act natural.”

I began to panic again. What does he mean by act natural? Even though I grew up with the mafia, I couldn’t get used to this. Not now, not ever. That is why I tried all my best to get away from it. Now, suddenly I wasn’t a sprinter anymore.

I was a target.

We entered his car, it was more than just a vehicle, it was a statement, a fortress, and a throne on wheels. A custom made Maybach S 680 Guard designed for billionaires who ruled empires and made enemies with every breath. Of course, it is only befitting, considering his aura. From the outside, the car looked like a sleek black shark, the windows were thick, multi-layered ballistic glass, it was tinted so dark that even the sun would have to guess who was inside.

He opened the passenger seat for me and I admired the inside, distracting myself a bit from my troubles. The doors closed with the hush of a vault, the seats were leather, Italian, hand stitched and matte black. As he stepped in, I looked around and there were hidden compartments, one held a gold-plated pistol, another held burner phones. I knew there was cash stashed somewhere in the compartments, just like my dad would do. This wasn’t just a car, it was a bulletproof, a getaway vehicle with the acceleration of a supercar and the soul of a war machine.

Only a few people in the world owned such a beast. And every one of them had blood on their hands.

We moved away from the curb and neither of us said anything until we pulled up in front of my apartment building.

As we stepped outside of the car, I saw my apartment building explode in flames.