The van felt smaller with every passing minute.
Elena sat hunched in the passenger seat, binoculars glued to her eyes even though the building across the street was mostly shadows. Her leg bounced restlessly. The locket in her pocket pressed against her thigh like a reminder she didn't need. Every shadow that moved near the old pier building made her heart stutter.
Luca and Dante had been gone for twenty-three minutes.
She kept count.
The earpiece crackled softly in her ear—Sofia's voice, low and tense.
"Still no movement on the east side. Dante says they're inside a back room. Can't get closer without being spotted."
Elena swallowed. Her mouth was dry. "Any sign of Luca?"
"Not yet. He's staying low. Breathe, Elena."
Easy for Sofia to say. She wasn't the one sitting here alone with nothing but her own racing thoughts and the memory of Luca's forehead pressed to hers before he slipped into the night.
She closed her eyes for a second and tried to picture something good. Salty cookies. Bad dancing in a kitchen. Luca's laugh from when they were teenagers—bright and reckless, not yet weighed down by blood and fear. It helped for half a heartbeat. Then the fear came rushing back.
What if Alexander spotted them? What if this was a trap? What if Luca didn't come back?
Her fingers found the locket in her pocket and squeezed it until the edges bit into her skin.
Another ten minutes dragged by.
Then the earpiece clicked.
Luca's voice, barely a whisper. "We're pulling back. He's meeting someone. Can't see the face clearly, but it sounded like he's moving on the Rossi compound tomorrow night. Something about 'finishing the circle.'"
Elena's stomach dropped. "Luca—"
"Stay in the van. We're almost to you."
She waited, every second stretching like rubber. Finally she saw two dark figures moving low and fast along the fence line. Luca first, then Dante. Her breath caught when Luca reached the van and slid into the driver's seat, breathing hard but whole.
Their eyes met in the dim light.
He looked exhausted. A small cut on his cheek from brushing against something sharp. But he was here.
"You're okay," she breathed, reaching over without thinking to touch the side of his face. Her fingers came away with a tiny smear of blood.
"Yeah." His voice was rough. He caught her hand and held it there for a second, leaning into her touch. "Close call. He almost walked right past us. But we heard enough."
Dante climbed into the back. "He's planning a hit on the Rossi compound. Tomorrow night. Wants to make it look like internal betrayal—probably pinning it on Gianni or Marco. Then he steps in as the 'savior' who cleans up the mess."
Sofia's voice came through the earpiece again. "I'm already looping in extra security at the compound. But we need to decide—do we warn Marco now or keep playing quiet?"
Elena pulled her hand back slowly, but Luca didn't let her go far. He kept their fingers loosely linked on the console as he started the van and pulled away from the curb.
The drive back was quiet at first. Elena stared out the window, watching the city lights streak by. Her mind kept replaying the conversation she'd had with Marco that morning. The disappointment in his eyes. The way he'd slammed the door.
"I should call him," she said finally, voice small. "Warn him about tomorrow night. Even if he hates me right now."
Luca glanced over. His thumb brushed the back of her hand again—slow, absent, like he needed the contact to stay grounded. "You can. But he might not listen. Not after this morning. He's hurting too, Elena. Losing your father… watching you with me… it's a lot."
"I know." She sighed. "But he's still family. The only one I have left who remembers my mom's terrible singing."
A tiny smile tugged at Luca's mouth. "You mentioned that last night. Off-key in the kitchen."
"Yeah." She managed a weak laugh. "She used to sing while making pasta. Dad would pretend to complain but he'd always end up dancing with her. I thought that was what love looked like. Loud and messy and real."
Luca was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer. "I never had that. After my mom died, the house was quiet. No music. No dancing. Just lessons on how not to feel. I think that's why I fell so hard for you back then. You made everything feel loud and alive again. Even when we were sneaking around and terrified of getting caught."
Elena turned to look at him. The cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding, but it stood out against his skin. She reached over and gently touched it with her fingertips.
"You're bleeding," she whispered.
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing." Her voice cracked a little. "You went in there for me. For my family. Even though you're scared. Even though Alexander almost walked right past you."
Luca pulled the van into the private garage under the penthouse and killed the engine. He turned to her fully, their hands still linked.
"I'm always going to be scared when it comes to you," he said honestly. The words came out raw, no filter. "That fear started when I was eight and never really left. But tonight… knowing you were waiting here… it made me careful. Made me come back."
He lifted their joined hands and pressed a slow kiss to the inside of her wrist. His lips were warm, lingering just long enough for her pulse to jump under them. Not a demand. Just a quiet thank you for being there.
Elena's breath caught. She leaned across the console, resting her forehead against his. Their noses brushed.
"I hate that you're scared because of me," she whispered. "But I'm glad you're not hiding it anymore. I don't want the cold boss version of you. I want the one who shakes when bullets fly. The one who kisses my wrist like it's the most important thing in the world right now."
Luca let out a shaky breath, his free hand coming up to cup the back of her neck gently. "You make it hard to stay cold."
They stayed like that for a long minute—foreheads together, breathing the same air, the weight of the night pressing down but not crushing them completely.
Finally Luca pulled back just enough to look at her. "We warn Marco in the morning. Together. Then we figure out how to stop Alexander before he reaches the compound."
Elena nodded. "Together."
They climbed out of the van and headed upstairs. Sofia and Dante were already there, setting up maps on the dining table. But Luca tugged Elena gently toward the bedroom instead.
"Just for a few minutes," he said quietly. "I need to wash this cut and… I don't want to be around maps and plans right now."
In the bathroom he splashed water on his face while Elena leaned against the doorframe watching him. When he turned, water dripping from his chin, she stepped forward with a clean towel and gently patted the cut on his cheek.
"You're going to have a scar," she murmured.
He caught her wrist again, thumb stroking the spot he'd kissed earlier. "Add it to the collection. Every one of them reminds me I survived long enough to get back to you."
The words were simple. Tired. Honest.
Elena felt tears prick her eyes again. She blinked them away and leaned in, pressing a soft, quick kiss to the uninjured side of his cheek.
"Thank you for coming back," she whispered.
Luca's arms came around her then—loose, careful, not trapping. He held her against his chest, chin resting on top of her head.
They stood like that in the quiet bathroom, the sounds of Sofia and Dante moving around in the other room fading into background noise.
Tomorrow would bring more fear. More plans. Maybe another fight with Marco.
But tonight, in this small pocket of stillness, Elena let herself believe they might actually have a chance.
Not just to survive Alexander Kane.
But to find the loud, messy, real kind of love her parents once had.
Even if it started scared and bloody.