The day began like a lie, dressed in sunlight and the illusion of freedom. Lorenzo told her to be ready, his voice clipped but carrying a strange edge of insistence. Aria had grown accustomed to his orders, the way his words carried the weight of inevitability, but this one was different. He didn't tell her why, didn't say where, only that she should wear something suitable. She felt the tension in him even as she chose a simple dress, even as she caught her reflection in the mirror and wondered if she would come back from wherever he was taking her. When she joined him at the front of the estate, the sleek black car waiting, his eyes lingered on her a fraction too long before he masked himself again. It was always like that now—glimpses of the man beneath the armor, cracks in the marble statue he pretended to be, and every time she saw it, something inside her shifted.
The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the silence between them. She dared a glance at him, at the rigid lines of his jaw, the way his hand rested with deceptive ease on the wheel, but his gaze was fixed ahead, unreadable. Aria's chest tightened with questions she didn't ask. The council's ultimatum still hung between them, poisoning every breath. Kill her, or lose everything. She wondered if this outing was his way of deciding, if she would be brought back or buried in some unmarked grave. Yet there was a steadiness in him, a protectiveness that belied such a thought, and it tangled her heart in knots she couldn't untangle.
They drove to the edge of the city, where the streets gave way to open roads and quiet hills. It was beautiful in a lonely kind of way, the kind of place where secrets lived in silence. Lorenzo parked the car near a stretch of abandoned warehouses, the kind of ruins that smelled of dust and rust and forgotten lives. Aria frowned, unease curling in her stomach. "Why here?" she asked, her voice low, cautious.
His eyes flicked to her, sharp and shadowed. "Because sometimes you can only see the truth away from the noise."
It made no sense, yet the weight of it pressed against her skin. He offered his hand, and though she hesitated, she took it. His palm was warm, calloused, grounding in a way that infuriated her because it felt like safety when she wanted to feel nothing. They walked together into the cavernous building, their footsteps echoing against the hollow walls. It was strange, almost intimate, the silence wrapping around them like a shroud. She wanted to ask again, to demand answers, but before the words could form, the world cracked open.
The first gunshot ripped through the air, shattering glass and silence alike. Aria flinched, her scream caught in her throat as Lorenzo pulled her down, his body covering hers before she even registered the danger. The second shot rang louder, closer, ricocheting off steel beams. Dust rained down from above. Shadows moved between the columns—men, armed and waiting.
"Stay down," Lorenzo growled, his voice rough with command, his hand pressing her into the ground as he drew his gun with the other.
But they weren't aiming for him. The bullets came fast, sharp, aimed at where she lay. Aria's heart thundered, terror clawing at her ribs as realization struck: this wasn't about him. This was about her.
The world became chaos—gunfire, shouting, the acrid smell of smoke. Lorenzo returned fire with deadly precision, his body a shield, his rage controlled but searing. Yet there were too many, their footsteps closing in, their intent written in every round fired. She saw it then, the inevitability of it, the moment one man broke through the chaos, his gun raised, his eyes fixed on her.
Time slowed.
She gasped, frozen, the barrel gleaming like the end of everything. And then Lorenzo turned. In that split second, his face was not the face of a Don, not the ruthless man who commanded empires. It was raw, desperate, human. His eyes locked on hers, dark and burning, and before the shot could land, he pulled her close and crushed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was not gentle. It was fire and fury, terror and salvation colliding in one violent moment. His lips devoured hers with a desperation that stole her breath, a claim and a promise tangled together, as though he needed her to know—if this was the end, she was his, wholly, utterly his.
And then came the sound that split the air. The trigger, the recoil, the body hitting the floor. Lorenzo's gun fired even as his lips pressed to hers, the man who would have killed her collapsing behind them in a spray of red.
The kiss broke as suddenly as it began, leaving Aria breathless, trembling, the taste of him still on her lips, the echo of death ringing in her ears. Her body shook, not just from fear but from the weight of what had just happened. He saved her. He kissed her like the world itself was burning. And in that moment, she could no longer deny the line between hate and want had blurred beyond repair.
The remaining attackers fled, their footsteps retreating into silence, the echo of gunfire fading into a suffocating stillness. Lorenzo stood, his chest heaving, his gun still clutched tight, his eyes scanning the shadows for more threats. Then, slowly, he looked down at her, and the sight in his gaze was almost worse than the violence—it was raw, unmasked, filled with something he refused to name.
Aria pushed herself up on shaking arms, her lips still tingling, her breath ragged. She should have screamed at him, cursed him, demanded to know what the hell he thought he was doing. But instead, her voice came out low, steady, defiant in a way that startled them both.
"You can't scare me away anymore."
The words hung between them, heavier than bullets, louder than the shots that still echoed in the distance. His jaw tightened, his eyes flaring as if she had crossed some line he hadn't realized existed. And yet, even as he turned his face away, as he tried to gather back the shards of control, Aria knew the truth. Whatever they had started in that kiss—in that moment of fire and death—there was no undoing it. Not for him. Not for her. Not anymore.