Chapter Three —
They moved slowly because neither had the speed the other expected.
Dates — small, carefully arranged — punctuated their real lives. Luca brought her to a rooftop garden where basil fought with the wind.
Elara showed Luca how to make coffee the way her mother did: strong, with a single spoon of sugar because bitterness taught patience.
But Luca's world was patient in its own cold ways. There were other people who noticed. Rival families sniffed where opportunity poked.
Old debts remembered Luca in the late hours. And Elara's world — the small household that tethered her — watched her differently.
Her neighbor raised an eyebrow when she began coming home with better shoes. Her little brother asked pointed questions, suspicion shining like a child's blade.
One night, Luca's driver came late to pick them up after a quiet dinner. Two cars flanked their sedan, and men in black stepped out with faces like cliff edges. They moved like the tide — inevitable, heavy.
"Move,"
A voice said.
Luca's hand went to the inside of his jacket by habit. He looked at Elara, and she saw it — the old reflex of a man who has lost before but plans not to again.
They maneuvered through the ambush, but not without consequence. Luca's car took a bullet, a ring of glass and heat that sang in Elara's ears.
Later, in the secrecy of a safehouse, Luca's second explained what she already feared: an old agreement had been broken.
Luca had refused to hand over a territory to a rival. The rival retaliated not because of land, but because Luca had taken something else from them — a woman who belonged to a pact.
Elara felt sick as the facts laid themselves across the table. In that moment she knew she had become a symbol.
"Why them?" she asked. "Why would anyone care about me?"
"Because what binds us is not always logic," Luca said. "It's pride and power and a calculus that says you matter because you're connected to me."
The truth tasted of iron. She stood and paced, thoughts slipping like smoke. "Then what are you binding me with? A promise? A debt?"
Luca stood, coming close. "With a vow." He took her hands. "I will not make you a shield. I will make you my priority."
She could have laughed, or walked, or pushed him away. Instead she felt, strangely, the vow sink into a place in her chest that had been hollow for so long it had become a room waiting for light.
End of Chapter three(3)
Author....ONLY1PRAISE