The photo on Sofia's laptop screen felt like a slap that wouldn't stop stinging.
Alexander Kane stared back at them—sharp cheekbones, cold blue eyes, that thin scar cutting across his left cheek like a warning. He wasn't smiling. He didn't need to. The picture was from an old arrest record, grainy but clear enough to make Elena's skin crawl.
Luca stood frozen beside her, his hand still wrapped around hers. She felt the tension in his fingers, the way they tightened like he wanted to crush the laptop.
"I shook his hand," Luca said again, quieter this time, like he was trying to convince himself it was real. "At my father's funeral. He looked me in the eye and said he was sorry for my loss. I thought he was just another soldier scraping for favor."
Sofia rubbed her temples, her curls messy from running her hands through them all night. "He's been circling us for years. Changed his name legally at twenty-one. Worked construction, then security, then nothing on paper. Smart. Patient."
Dante leaned over the table, studying the image like it owed him money. "I'll get eyes on every known associate. Hotels, safe houses, old foster homes. He can't hide forever."
Elena pulled her hand free from Luca's—gently, not because she wanted to, but because she needed to move. She paced to the window, staring out at the city that suddenly felt too big and too small at the same time. Alexander Kane had walked among them. Maybe even stood in the same rooms as her father. Laughed at their pain while planning it.
"I keep thinking about Maria," she said, voice cracking a little. "She was twenty-two. Just a girl caught between two monsters. And now her son wants to finish what the bullets started. He's not just after revenge. He wants us to destroy each other so he can watch."
Luca came up behind her. Not touching at first. Then his chest brushed her back, solid and warm. He didn't say anything right away—just let her feel he was there.
After a moment he spoke, low enough that only she could hear. "I keep seeing that eight-year-old kid again. The one who watched a man die and learned to look away from nothing. Now I'm looking at this photo and wondering if I'm becoming my father. Dragging you into more blood because I can't let go."
Elena turned around. They were close—close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. "You're not your father, Luca. You left to protect me. You came back even when it would've been easier to stay gone. That counts for something."
His hand lifted, hovering near her face before he let it settle on her shoulder instead. The hesitation hurt in a good way. Like he was trying so hard not to push.
"I don't deserve that kind of grace," he muttered. "Not after five years of silence. Not after dragging you into my bed as part of a deal."
She reached up and covered his hand with hers. "The deal was my choice too. And last night… lying there with you… that didn't feel like a deal. It felt like us. The real us. Scared and tired and still stupidly hoping."
A small, broken smile tugged at his mouth. "Stupidly hoping. Yeah. That sounds about right."
Sofia cleared her throat from across the room, breaking the moment but not unkindly. "Hate to interrupt the therapy session, but we've got movement. One of Dante's guys just texted. Alexander was spotted near the old warehouse district two hours ago. Same area where your gun disappeared, Luca."
Luca's expression hardened back into the boss mask, but his hand stayed on Elena's shoulder a second longer before dropping. "We go tonight. Quiet. No full team. Just us four. We watch. We don't engage unless we have to."
Elena nodded. Her stomach twisted with nerves, but underneath it was something sharper—anger, yes, but also determination. She wasn't the perfect princess anymore. She was the girl who'd watched her father bleed out and decided to fight back.
Later that afternoon, while Sofia and Dante made calls, Elena found Luca in the bedroom changing into a dark hoodie and jeans. He looked more like the boy she remembered—less polished boss, more street kid with too much weight on his shoulders.
She leaned against the doorframe, watching him. "You okay?"
He paused, shirt half-on. Scars crossed his torso—old ones, new ones. Marks of the years she'd missed. "No. Not really. Seeing that face… it makes everything feel too close. Like Maria's ghost has been standing behind me this whole time."
Elena stepped inside and closed the door. She crossed the room and helped him pull the shirt down the rest of the way, her hands lingering on his sides. Not seductive. Just… touching. Reassuring herself he was real.
"I'm glad you're here," she said softly. "Even if it's messy. Even if we're both carrying ghosts."
He caught her hands, holding them against his chest. His heartbeat thudded under her palms—fast, honest.
"I keep having this stupid thought," he admitted, voice rough. "What if we'd run away that night like you wanted? Would we be somewhere normal right now? Fighting over who burned dinner instead of hunting a man who wants us dead?"
She smiled, small and sad. "Maybe. Or maybe the blood would've followed us anyway. At least here we're facing it together."
Luca leaned down, resting his forehead against hers again. Their noses brushed. His breath warmed her lips. For a heartbeat she thought he might close the distance—really kiss her this time.
He didn't.
Instead he whispered, "When this is over… when Alexander is gone and the debts are paid… I want to take you somewhere quiet. No guards. No deals. Just you and me figuring out what normal looks like."
"I'd like that," she whispered back.
They stayed like that until Sofia knocked again.
"Time to move," she called through the door.
Luca pulled back, but not before pressing a quick, soft kiss to her forehead. "Stay close tonight. Please."
"I will."
The drive to the warehouse district was tense and quiet. Elena sat in the back with Sofia while Luca drove and Dante rode shotgun. The city lights blurred past. Every shadow looked like Alexander Kane.
When they parked a block away and slipped into the maze of old buildings on foot, Elena's heart hammered against her ribs. Luca stayed right beside her, his shoulder brushing hers every few steps. Not holding her hand—too risky—but close enough that she could feel his warmth.
They found a good vantage point behind a rusted forklift. Minutes stretched into forever.
Then movement.
A figure stepped out from between two containers—tall, dark-haired, that same scar visible even in the dim light.
Alexander Kane.
He lit a cigarette, looking around like he owned the night.
Elena's breath caught. Luca's hand found hers in the dark, squeezing once—hard.
This was him.
The man who wanted to finish the war their fathers started.
The man who had watched them suffer and smiled.
Luca leaned close, lips near her ear. "We watch. We learn. Then we end it."
She nodded, gripping his hand tighter.
In the shadows, with danger breathing down their necks, Elena realized something simple and terrifying.
She wasn't just surviving anymore.
She was falling for Luca Moretti all over again.
And this time, she didn't want to stop.