Elara's POV
The silence in the mansion had changed.
It wasn't the heavy, suffocating kind anymore — it was sharper, more alive. Like the air itself was waiting for something to happen.
I was too.
Three days had passed since our last confrontation. Three days of thinking, planning, and pretending not to care every time I heard his footsteps outside the door.
Luciano DeLuca.
My brother's killer.
My captor.
And, somehow, the only person keeping me alive.
I couldn't keep waiting for death. If I was going to survive, I needed leverage.
That's when I remembered the flash drive. Matteo's voice echoed in my head — "If anything happens to me, the truth is in the music box."
The one I'd kept hidden. The one they hadn't found.
If the files on that drive were what I thought they were… maybe I still had a chance.
The door opened just after midnight.
He didn't knock — he never did.
Luciano stepped in, his presence filling the room like smoke. He looked tired, though — faint shadows under his eyes, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
"What now?" I asked, sitting up on the bed. "Another interrogation?"
He shut the door behind him. "You're not as scared as you used to be."
"I'm tired of being scared."
His mouth curved faintly. "Good. Fear gets boring."
He walked closer, stopping just short of the bed. "But I need something from you."
I folded my arms. "Let me guess. Information."
His gaze flicked to my wrists — no longer cuffed. I'd earned that small freedom yesterday after refusing to eat for a day and a half. "Your brother's files," he said. "Where did he keep them?"
"I don't know."
"Don't lie to me."
I met his eyes. "And if I tell you?"
He studied me for a long moment. "Then I might let you live."
I gave a short laugh. "You're bad at bargaining, DeLuca. You already need me alive — otherwise, you wouldn't be here."
Something flickered across his face — surprise, then a small, dangerous smile.
"Maybe I like our conversations."
"Or maybe," I said softly, "you're losing control."
That did it. His eyes hardened, and in two strides he was in front of me, one hand gripping my chin.
"Careful, bella," he murmured, his breath brushing my skin. "You don't know what losing control looks like."
My pulse betrayed me again — the heat of his touch, the quiet command in his voice.
But I didn't look away. "Then show me."
For a moment, everything froze.
Then, slowly, he released me.
"You're not afraid of dying," he said quietly. "But you're terrified of what comes before it."
He turned toward the door. "Be ready at dawn. You're coming with me."
"Where?"
He paused. "To earn your freedom."
Luciano's POV
I should've left her in that room.
I'd told myself keeping her was strategy — a way to find out who else was involved in Matteo Moretti's network. But lately, strategy had started to sound too much like an excuse.
She reminded me of the girl I used to be around once — my sister, before the world broke her too.
And I hated that reminder.
Dante met me at the bottom of the staircase, his expression unreadable. "You're bringing her to the docks?"
"She knows something," I said. "If she's lying, I'll find out there."
Dante frowned. "Boss, if the Russians see her—"
"They won't."
He hesitated. "You sure this isn't personal?"
I looked past him, toward the faint silhouette of her figure upstairs, framed by moonlight through the window bars.
Everything about her was personal.
But I didn't say that.
Elara's POV
The sea smelled like salt and gasoline.
Luciano's men flanked us as we walked toward the dock — silent, armed shadows blending into the mist. I kept my arms close, trying not to shiver in the night air.
"This is where you do your business?" I muttered.
He glanced at me. "You sound disappointed."
"I expected something more… cinematic."
His lips twitched. "Sorry to ruin the fantasy."
We stopped near a black car. One of his men — Dante, the one who always glared at me like I'd personally offended the mafia code — handed him a phone.
"They're late," Dante said. "Ten minutes."
"Keep eyes on the perimeter," Luciano ordered.
Then he turned to me. "You said you wanted to make a deal. This is your chance."
I frowned. "What deal?"
He motioned toward the shipyard. "You get me what your brother stole, and I'll give you protection — until this is over."
"And if I refuse?"
His gaze was steady. "Then I'll have to assume you're working against me."
The air between us tightened, heavy with something I couldn't name.
Finally, I said, "I know where the files are. But I want something first."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're in no position to negotiate."
"Maybe not," I said, stepping closer. "But you're not in a position to lose what's in those files either."
For a moment, we just stared at each other — the sound of waves crashing somewhere in the distance.
Then he said quietly, "What do you want?"
"My brother's body. I want to bury him."
Luciano's jaw tightened. I thought he might refuse. But then, finally, he nodded.
"You have my word."
He didn't say it like a promise. He said it like an oath.
The deal should've ended there. But fate — or whatever cruel thing controlled our lives — had other plans.
A shot rang out.
Luciano's men drew their guns instantly, shouting commands. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me behind the car.
"Stay down!"
"What's happening?"
He didn't answer — just fired back toward the pier. More bullets whistled through the air.
Someone was attacking the DeLuca shipment.
"Get her out of here!" Dante shouted.
"No!" Luciano barked. "She's the target!"
My blood ran cold. "The target? Why—"
"Because someone knows you're with me," he hissed, scanning the shadows. "And they want to use you to get to me."
A flash of movement — a dark figure across the water. Luciano fired again. Then he turned to me, eyes burning with a mix of fury and something else.
"You trust me, Elara?"
"No!" I shouted over the chaos.
"Good." He grabbed me by the waist, pulling me close. "Then maybe you'll survive."
And before I could speak, he dragged me toward the edge of the dock — and jumped.
The freezing water swallowed us whole.
Luciano's POV
The ocean hit like a wall.
I pulled her up, one arm locking around her waist as I kicked toward the surface. Gunfire echoed above, muted by the waves.
When we finally surfaced near the rocks, she was shaking, gasping for breath.
"Are you insane?" she coughed.
"Probably." I scanned the docks — the men were still fighting. We had minutes at best.
She tried to pull away, but I held her still. "They'll find us if we stay here," I said. "Move."
"I can't—"
"Yes, you can."
I guided her toward the shadows beneath the bridge, every nerve on fire.
When we finally stopped, she collapsed against the wall, soaked and trembling.
"You could've killed us," she whispered.
"I saved you."
Her eyes met mine — wet, defiant, still burning. "You don't get to call it saving when you're the reason I need saving in the first place."
I wanted to argue. To tell her she didn't understand this world, this blood-soaked kingdom I'd inherited. But when I looked at her — drenched, furious, alive — the words died on my tongue.
She'd been through hell, and she was still standing.
And for the first time in years, I wasn't sure which of us was more dangerous.
Elara's POV
He watched me like a storm — silent, calculating.
Every heartbeat between us felt like a challenge.
Finally, I said quietly, "Your enemies know I'm with you now. That makes me a target."
"It makes you mine," he corrected.
I stared at him. "And what does that mean?"
He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "It means anyone who touches you dies."
Something inside me trembled — not from fear this time, but something far more dangerous.
He stood, pulling off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. "The deal still stands. Bring me those files, and you'll have your freedom."
"And if I don't?"
His lips brushed the shell of my ear as he said, "Then you'll stay right here — under my protection."
He walked away, the moonlight catching on the scars at the back of his neck.
And for the first time since my brother's death… I wasn't sure which I wanted more.
Freedom.
Or him.