The cabin creaked with the sound of silence.
Elena lay curled on the narrow cot in the corner, a fire flickering across the walls, casting shadows that danced like spirits of the past. Outside, the woods whispered secrets, but inside, it was the storm in her heart that kept her awake.
She glanced over at Dante.
He stood at the window, shirtless, his lean frame etched with scars that spoke of violence and survival. The firelight caught his features-the sharp line of his jaw, the hollow beneath his cheekbone, the haunted glint in his eyes.
He was beautiful.
He was deadly.
And he was hiding something.
Aria had always been taught to read people-the tilt of their head, the twitch of their fingers, the lies behind smiles. But Dante... Dante was a locked box carved in stone.
Still, there was something in his eyes tonight. A flicker of memory. Pain.
"Can't sleep?" she asked softly.
Dante turned, startled. He hadn't realized she was awake. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't." She sat up, wrapping the thin blanket around her shoulders. "You're watching the woods like something's out there."
He hesitated. "There's always something out there."
"That's not what I meant."
A beat of silence stretched between them.
"You're afraid," she said quietly.
Dante's jaw clenched. "I'm not afraid for me."
"Then what?"
He looked at her for a long moment, then crossed the room and crouched before her. His voice was a low murmur. "You shouldn't have come for me."
"But I did."
"You killed a man, Elena."
"You were worth it."
His eyes flinched at her words, and she noticed it again-that shift. That flicker of something deeper.
"Tell me what you're hiding," she whispered.
He looked away.
"No more lies, Dante."
He ran a hand through his dark hair, then sat beside her, elbows on his knees. The fire crackled between them.
"You think I'm just a killer. A hired blade. A ghost sent to slit throats in the dark."
"Am I wrong?"
"No," he said, voice flat. "But I wasn't always."
She waited.
He exhaled like it hurt. "My real name isn't Dante."
Elena's heart skipped. "What?"
"My name is Luca Castellano."
The name hit her like a slap. Castellano. That was one of the Old Families. A bloodline long thought extinct after a bloody massacre ten years ago.
"But they said-your whole family was murdered," she breathed.
"They were." His voice was ice. "My father was the Don. He refused to sell out our territory. So they came. They burned the house, slaughtered everyone. My mother, my sisters... I watched them die."
Aria's throat went dry. "And you survived?"
"Barely. I ran. Hid for weeks. Until he found me."
"Who?"
He hesitated. "Your father."
Her blood turned cold. "My father?"
"He took me in. Said he'd protect me. Train me. Mold me into something that would make the other families regret their betrayal."
Elena's voice was barely a whisper. "He turned you into a weapon."
Dante-no, Luca-nodded slowly. "I killed for him. I burned for him. And I waited. For a decade. For the day I'd find the truth behind the massacre."
Elena stared at him. "You think my father was behind it."
"I don't think," Luca said, his voice dark and steady. "I know."
The room spun.
Everything she knew-every warm memory of her father, every lesson, every soft-spoken word-fractured in that moment.
"My father wouldn't-"
"He orchestrated the entire betrayal," Luca said. "He sold out the Castellanos to claim their ports and smuggling routes. He buried it behind smiles and cigars."
Aria's fingers dug into the blanket. "Then why wait? Why stay so long?"
"Because vengeance without truth is just another lie," he said. "I needed to be sure. And then... I met you."
Elena froze.
"I thought you were just another pawn in his game," he continued. "Another spoiled mafia heiress with blood on her diamonds. But you're... different."
"I'm not innocent," she whispered.
"But you're not your father either."
Silence.
"I should've killed you the first night," he added softly.
"And yet here we are."
Their eyes met again.
This time, there was no war between them-just a fragile bridge of truth, built on scars and shared pain.
Aria reached out, her hand resting gently on his. "So what now?"
"I finish what I started," Luca said. "I expose your father. Burn his empire from the inside out."
"And me?" Her voice cracked.
"I want you out of it. Safe."
She laughed, bitter and soft. "You think I can go back to my penthouse after this? Pretend none of it matters?"
He looked at her, something flickering in his gaze. "You'd stay? Even knowing what I plan to do?"
She leaned in, her forehead brushing his. "I'm not loyal to his lies. I'm loyal to you."
He kissed her then, slow and deep, like the kind of kiss that rewrites futures.
The fire hissed behind them. The past burned between them.
And still, they held on.
Later, when sleep finally took them, Elena dreamt of fire and glass and a little boy with eyes like Luca's, running from monsters in expensive suits.
She woke to find Luca gone.
Panic surged-until she found the note left beside the bed:
"Needed air. Don't follow. If I'm not back by sunrise, destroy this place and disappear. - L"
Aria crumpled the note in her fist.
She wasn't going anywhere.
She had made her first kill for him.
She had chosen her side.
And now, she was ready to discover just how deep the secrets behind his eyes truly ran.