Between War and Desire
The safehouse was nothing like Lucian's mansion—no crystal chandeliers, no polished marble, just bare walls, heavy locks, and armed guards stationed outside. It was a fortress built for survival, not comfort.
Elena sat on the edge of the bed, Isabella sleeping soundly beside her. The little girl had cried herself to exhaustion, clutching Elena like a lifeline. Now, in the quiet, Elena finally let her own fear seep through.
She looked up when Lucian entered the room. He carried the weight of war on his shoulders—his black shirt stained with smoke, his hands streaked with dried blood. Yet when his gaze fell on Isabella and Elena, some of that hardness melted.
"She's safe now," Elena whispered, her voice soft but shaky.
Lucian nodded. "Safe, but not for long. The Valdez cartel won't stop until they're buried." His jaw tightened. "And I intend to bury them first."
There was no hesitation in his voice, no mercy. Elena shivered—not from fear of him, but from the sheer force of his conviction. He wasn't just a man. He was a storm.
Still, when he sat across from her, his eyes lingered in a way that stripped away the boss, leaving only the man beneath.
"You risked your life tonight," he said quietly. "You didn't run. You fought. Do you have any idea what that means to me?"
Elena's breath caught. "I didn't think. I just… couldn't let them take her. Couldn't let them take you."
The silence stretched, heavy and electric. His hand reached across the space between them, brushing hers. The touch was gentle, but it burned hotter than fire.
"Every time I tell myself to keep you at a distance," Lucian murmured, his voice low, dangerous, "you pull me closer. You're in my blood now, Elena. And I don't know how to stop it."
Her lips parted, her heart racing, but before the forbidden moment could break, Marco knocked sharply on the door.
"Boss. We've located a Valdez shipment coming through the docks at dawn. Heavy guard, but vulnerable. It's our chance to send a message."
Lucian's expression hardened again, the boss slipping back into place. "Prepare the men. We strike at dawn."
When Marco left, Lucian turned back to Elena. His hand lingered at her cheek for a heartbeat, then withdrew.
"Stay here. Protect her. When I return…" His voice trailed, thick with something unspoken. "We'll finish this conversation."
Elena watched him go, torn between fear and longing. She knew war was coming. But so was something else—something she wasn't sure either of them could control.