Siena, Italy — Kael's Safehouse
Midnight blanketed Siena in silence. Not a single star above, as if even the sky had turned its back on them.
Inside a quiet apartment tucked deep in the old quarter, the only sound was the steady stream of water running in the shower. Each drop hitting tile echoed like the ticking of a countdown neither of them could stop.
Ariella stood before the fogged mirror, fingers trembling.
Steam wrapped around her body like a ghost, blurring her reflection — but she could still see herself. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Changed.
No longer Ariella DeLuca, the mafia heiress of Rome.
Now... a runaway.
Wrapped in a towel, her skin damp, she felt cold. Not from the air, but from the storm inside her — memories she couldn't shake, voices she couldn't silence.
Her fingers brushed the edge of the mirror. "Who am I now?"
She closed her eyes. Images flashed — her father's unforgiving glare, Matteo's guilt, Kael's voice and the damning files still tucked inside her clutch.
Her heartbeat quickened.
The shower shut off.
She pulled on an oversized hoodie hanging on the back of the door — Kael's. It smelled like him: woodsmoke, danger, something grounding. She didn't even hesitate.
As she stepped out into the narrow living room, Kael was already there, sitting on the couch, a steaming mug in his hand. His shadow spilled across the wall, sharp and still — like a soldier waiting for the next war.
Without speaking, she sat across from him.
He offered her the second mug. "Drink. It's not trauma therapy, but it's better than silence."
She took it.
The heat warmed her fingers, but not the weight in her chest.
"Why are you doing this for me?" she asked softly.
Kael didn't look at her right away. "Because I know what it feels like... when the people who are supposed to protect you are the first to sell you out."
Her throat tightened. She stared into the tea. "Last night, I trusted you. But this morning…"
"You're scared I lied."
She nodded, just once.
Kael didn't react. He placed his mug on the table and leaned back. "If I'd lied, I would've let you get caught. I'm not a good man, Ariella. But I'm not them."
Silence stretched.
She exhaled. "It's like I've stepped into a world I don't understand. Everyone wears a mask. My father. Matteo. You."
Kael gave a half-nod. "The difference is, I've taken mine off."
Ariella leaned into the couch. "So what happens now?"
Before he could answer, a faint buzz broke the air.
Kael's phone lit up. One message.
He read it. And his face changed.
Ariella sat up. "What is it?"
"We have to leave. Now."
Her heart dropped. "Why?"
He showed her the screen.
"We found you."
Her blood ran cold.
Kael was already moving. He pulled a small pistol from the drawer — not with panic, but precision.
"I'll take you further. Somewhere safer."
She stood, fear rising again. "Where are we going?"
Kael looked at her — truly looked — and something behind his eyes softened. No longer just the cold fixer. For a moment, a man.
"To a place where no one knows your name. And if they come looking, they'll only find shadows."
She nodded, her voice caught in her throat.
Kael reached for his jacket, then turned off the lights.
From the narrow street outside, an engine purred. Slow. Cautious.
Ariella turned to him. "Them?"
"No," Kael said. "But someone tipped them off."
He took her hand — steady, but not possessive. A tether, not a chain.
Together, they stepped into the night.
The city held its breath as the street swallowed them.
And far above, from a cracked window across the alley, a camera blinked red.
Zoomed. Focused.
Click.
One photo.
Then a soft voice over the comm:"They're on the move. Orders?"
A pause.Then — "Let him lead us to the files. Don't lose him."