The warehouse on the edge of Naples smells like oil, salt, and betrayal.
Elias stands in silence, flanked by Kai and three of his most trusted men. The stolen arms shipment is recovered—mostly intact—but that's not what bothers him. What bothers him is that it happened at all. In his city. Under his watch.
He watches the man tied to the chair before him. Bruised. Bloodied. Still too proud.
Elias's voice is level. Cold.
"Who paid you?"
The man stays quiet.
Elias doesn't repeat himself.
Kai takes a step forward, but Elias holds up a hand. "We're done here," he says.
As they walk out into the faded Naples sun, Kai finally speaks.
"That's twice this month. Someone's poking at the borders."
"They want to see if I blink."
"You won't."
Elias doesn't answer. His eyes narrow toward the docks where the crates are being reloaded under tight security.
But Kai isn't finished.
He glances sideways at Elias, studying him. "Also… since when do we look into civilian girls on commercial flights?"
Elias says nothing.
"You had me run a file on a random student, Elias. You know how that looks?"
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
Kai snorts. "Right. But you're asking me to believe it's nothing?"
Elias turns, slowly. "I'm asking you to do your job."
Kai raises a brow. "You've had a hundred women fall over you without batting an eye. You don't even remember names. But this one—who didn't even know who you were—you had me looking into her in thirty minutes flat."
Elias doesn't flinch. "She's… unfamiliar."
Kai crosses his arms. "You mean refreshing."
Elias doesn't deny it. He doesn't confirm it either.
Back at the hotel, he's reading through logistics reports, reviewing client files, giving orders for additional security… but his mind keeps drifting.
To the way she smiled on the phone.
The tear she wiped away when she thought no one was watching.
The way she said "Baba" like it was sacred.
He doesn't even realize when he opens the encrypted report Kai compiled on her.
Leila Zaman.
22.
Pakistani.
Forensic science major.
Here for an international student conference.
Milan-based.
No known affiliations.
Low threat profile.
No threats. No weapons. No strategy.
Just… stillness.
Elias stares at the screen, unblinking.
Suddenly, he closes the file and stands.
"Where are you going?" Kai asks.
Elias is already walking toward the closet for his coat.
"There's a conference," he says. "I want to see the security layout."
Kai blinks. "You mean her conference?"
"I mean all conferences should be secure."
Kai doesn't stop him. Just mutters under his breath, "Right. And I'm the Pope."
The Naples convention center is buzzing. Students, professors, researchers — all threading through bright halls under the weight of lanyards and expectations.
Elias stands among them, not quite blending in, but unnoticed enough in his tailored navy coat and low-slung cap. A thin earpiece in his ear. Kai walks beside him, more casual, hands in his pockets, trying very hard not to smirk.
"You do realize," Kai says, voice low, "this is the most effort you've ever made to not be noticed."
Elias doesn't look at him. "Surveillance requires subtlety."
"Mm-hmm," Kai hums. "Of course. Surveillance. For her. With no official threat." He pauses dramatically. "I feel so protected."
Elias exhales slowly. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"No," Kai replies cheerfully. "Especially not when the great Elias Sinclair shows up at a forensic science conference uninvited, unarmed, and undeniably curious."
Elias doesn't respond. His eyes scan the crowd like a hawk that's already found its prey.
And there she is.
Leila.
Standing near a display board, notebook in hand, pen twirling between her fingers. She's listening intently to a guest speaker, unaware of the small smile on her lips or the way her presence commands the space without trying.
She's not extraordinary by typical standards. Not loud. Not polished like the girls who frequent luxury lobbies or charity galas.
But there's something else.
A steadiness. A light.
A silence that doesn't beg for attention but demands it anyway.
Elias's gaze lingers longer than intended.
Kai bumps his elbow lightly. "You're staring."
"I'm observing."
"You're staring."
Elias exhales, sharp and shallow. "I will have your tongue removed one day."
Kai laughs under his breath. "Noted."
Leila moves again, stepping toward the professor to ask a question. The clarity in her voice carries even through the noise. Precise. Curious. Humble.
And for some reason, it strikes Elias as brave.
He watches the way her fingers brush the pages of her notebook — careful, respectful. The way her scarf shifts when she turns her head. There's an old-world dignity to her. Something sacred. Untouchable.
And that, more than anything, makes Elias still.
Kai's voice returns, softer this time. "You don't know what to do with her, do you?"
Elias doesn't answer.
Because he doesn't.
Not yet.