The hum of the airplane engines was a constant, dull vibration beneath her seat, a rhythm that should have been calming but wasn't.
Elisa Vega looked out of the plane's small window at the fast-moving clouds, soft and distant. Her thoughts drifted,not to Milan, not to Luca Moretti, not even to Elena Cruz, but to herself.
Or, rather, to who she had been before she became a weapon.
The thought was dangerous. She had spent twenty-eight years burying her past beneath layers of conditioning, discipline, and relentless training,but sometimes, in the quiet moments,moments like this, when the world outside was unreachable,those memories slipped through.
Her first memory was of a room just like this,only smaller and rougher. Bright lights, cold metal, and the strong smell of disinfectant. She had been only seven then. A child, but she didn't stay one for long.
Her trainers,cold, strict, and almost faceless in her memory,always told her that emotions made you weak, that caring about people was dangerous, and that the world had no patience for a girl who showed her tears.And so she had stopped crying.
She remembered the first time she had been made to run simulations,mental, physical, and psychological. Each task was designed to break her down, then rebuild her stronger, faster, sharper.
Each failure had been punished,not with words,not with love, but with omission and Isolation. The silent gaze of the instructors that reminded her she was never enough. Until she was.
Until she was perfect.
By the time she was ten, she was faster than most boys twice her age, smarter than every instructor, and capable of reading micro-expressions before the humans they belonged to knew what they were feeling. By twelve, she had learned to lie without hesitation, to mimic empathy without feeling it. And by sixteen, she was a ghost.Invisible,untouchable,and a weapon.
Elisa blinked and focused on the present, brushing away the memories like dust. She had a mission,a target, a man whose world she was about to enter,and whose secrets she had to unravel without leaving a trace.
Elena Cruz would be perfect,she must be perfect.
Her first exercise after leaving the agency as a child had been simple;survive a simulated assassination attempt. The room, the instructors, the chaos. The panic of her classmates. She remembered all vividly
But she hadn't panicked. She had analyzed, predicted, and countered. She had emerged unscathed while others faltered.
That first success had been the beginning of her life as a ghost,as a weapon designed to infiltrate, manipulate, seduce, and disappear.
And now, more than a decade later, that same principle applied,only the stakes were higher, the target smarter, and the consequences far more deadly.
Luca Moretti wasn't just another mark. He was untouchable, brilliant, and unpredictable. And she had been trained to succeed where others had failed.
But she had never been sent into a lion's den quite like this one.
Elisa closed her eyes and ran through mental simulations for the fifth time.
Gala entrance.
Observation points.
Exit strategies.
Conversations with Luca.
She imagined every scenario;casual hand brushes, measured smiles, subtle flirtations, evasive answers to probing questions. She mapped out every possible reaction, every countermeasure.
Her body knew the choreography by heart,the tilt of her head, the curve of her smile, the controlled cadence of her voice. Elena Cruz was already alive in her mind.
But then… she imagined something else. Something unexpected.
A moment when Luca Moretti saw past the mask,a moment when her calculated words failed to shield her.And the thought,so alien,so untrained,made her pulse quicken.
She shoved it and held on the rule;Emotion was weakness. Vulnerability was death.
By mid-morning, the plane descended toward Milan, clouds parted to reveal the sprawling city beneath, the river glinting like liquid gold and then she felt the anticipation begin to coil in her chest.
Customs was smooth,too smooth. The agents barely glanced at her passport. Her alias, her documentation, and the rehearsed backstory held firm.
She retrieved her suitcase and stepped into the airport, moving seamlessly through the crowd. Elena Cruz was no longer a concept, she was a walking, breathing presence.
And the city watched her, unaware.
Her new apartment was in a high-rise in the center of the city. Minimalist, elegant, and curated to match the profile of an international art buyer. The decor was subtle;abstract paintings, modern furniture,and neutral tones.
She walked from room to room, touching each surface, mentally plotting the space. Every door, every window, every hallway could be a potential threat. She took note of blind spots, emergency exits, and potential hiding places.
Everything had to be perfect.
She unpacked methodically, arranging her wardrobe, reviewing the dossiers one more time. The image of Luca Moretti haunted every corner of her mind,the storm-gray eyes, the sharp jaw, the aura of controlled power.
He was everywhere, even when he wasn't.
While she was still preparing,
A soft beep interrupted her preparation. A new message popped up from the small recorder Isa had given her. It said
"First rule; trust no one,second rule; trust yourself,Third rule; never forget who you were before you became what they made you."
Elisa stared at the message.
Isa's warnings were never idle. They were always precise because Isa knew the agency,she knew the danger,and knew her.
Trust no one.Elisa repeated it silently, letting the words anchor her.
As Elisa sat at the desk, closing her eyes briefly,her mind drifted to a training simulation from years ago.
The scenario; infiltration of a high-value target in a gala-like setting. One misstep meant termination, one flicker of emotion, and the target would see through her.
She remembered the instructors' voices: Predict, adapt,and survive.
She remembered the pulse, the calculation, the mental chessboard laid out before her.
She had emerged victorious then. She would emerge victorious now.
Evening fell, bringing with it the soft glow of city lights. Elisa dressed meticulously, choosing attire that would align perfectly with Elena Cruz's persona. A subtle, elegant dress,minimalist jewelry and Controlled elegance.
She practiced walking in the mirror, the tilt of her chin, the slight curl of her lips. Every movement was rehearsed, refined,and every glance measured.
Her reflection stared back at her; controlled, composed, unreadable. The mask she had worn countless times, felt heavier that night ,because tomorrow she would not just be herself, she would be Elena Cruz.And tomorrow, she would meet him.
Elisa sat by the window, watching the city pulse with life below. The hum of cars, the faint chatter of passersby, the glint of lights on water,seemed distant, irrelevant, and fragile.
Her mind raced through contingency plans; escape routes, emergency contacts, fallback identities. She ran simulations silently, imagining how Luca might behave, how Marco might observe her, how Bianca might interact if she ever came into contact.
Even in preparation, she felt a flicker,a small, dangerous thrill.
She wasn't afraid. Fear was a luxury she had never afforded herself. But anticipation… anticipation was sharper, more intoxicating.
Just as she settled into her next plan, a sound cut through the silence.
A knock.Not loud, not urgent. A soft, deliberate tap,like someone testing the air around her, announcing themselves without announcing anything at all.
Her entire body went still.
The apartment hummed with silence. The city moved, but Inside, everything narrowed to that one sound.
Someone was at her door,and no one should have known she was there.
She moved with quiet precision,each step deliberate. The soft lighting cast long shadows across the minimalist furniture, but she'd chosen that place because nothing in it could hide a threat.
Her steps were measured,and her heartbeat stayed steady.
She stood beside the door,out of the direct line, just as she'd been trained,and lowered her hand to the weapon concealed in her boot. Her fingers didn't tremble, they never did.
"Who is it?" she asked, her voice calm, almost uninterested.
Another knock.Same rhythm.
Soft and Intentional, came again
She felt the slightest shift in the air, as if the person on the other side was waiting for her to realize who they were.
And then a Familiar voice whispered From the other side.
"Elisa… you weren't supposed to come alone." Everything inside her froze.
It wasn't Voss.
It wasn't Rowan.
It wasn't anyone she expected,or wanted to see.It was someone she had buried in a past filled with secrets and scars. Someone who knew the version of her that she didn't let into the light. Someone who had walked the same shadows she thought she had left behind.
And now, they were there in Milan.
At her door.
She could almost feel their smile through the wood.
A ghost returned,not to haunt her…
but to complicate everything.