The rain hadn't stopped.
It beat against the windows of the safehouse like the world itself was warning them not to take the next step.
Elijah sat at the small kitchen table, his fingers wrapped around a chipped mug of untouched coffee. Across from him, Luca was sprawled in a chair, one leg stretched out, the other pulled close, his elbow resting on his knee. He looked at Elijah like he was memorizing him all over again—though now there was no smirk, no cocky edge. Just quiet intensity.
---
"You mean it?" Elijah finally asked, breaking the silence.
"That you'll burn it all down?"
Luca's jaw tightened. "Every last piece."
There was something dangerous in the way he said it—not reckless, but calculated. Like a wolf who had already mapped out every path, every strike, every kill.
"And you think I'll just… follow you into this?" Elijah's tone was sharper than he intended, but he didn't look away.
"I'm not asking you to follow," Luca said, leaning forward, forearms braced on the table. "I'm asking you to stand beside me."
---
Elijah's chest tightened. "Why?"
Luca didn't blink. "Because you deserve to take back what he stole from you. And because—" He hesitated, almost imperceptibly. "—because I can't do this without you."
The words hung heavy between them. Elijah wasn't sure if Luca meant strategically or personally, and maybe he didn't want to know yet.
---
They went over the plan in low voices.
The man—Elijah still couldn't bring himself to say his name—was running a new operation in the east docks. It was more than weapons or debts now; it was a network of laundering fronts disguised as import businesses. Luca had already identified three locations: a warehouse, a shipping office, and a nightclub that served as the meeting point for high-tier clients.
"The warehouse is where we start," Luca said, spreading out a crude map on the table. "If we can take out their main storage, we can force them into a corner."
Elijah traced a finger over the marked points. "And you want me there?"
"You know the city better than anyone. You'll see things I don't." Luca's gaze softened just slightly. "I trust your eyes."
---
The irony wasn't lost on Elijah. Luca trusted his eyes—yet it would take more than a night for Elijah to trust Luca's hands.
Still, something inside him stirred at the thought of tearing down the man who had controlled both their lives.
Revenge was ugly, but maybe it was the only language they both understood.
---
Later that night, they prepared.
Luca's movements were efficient, deliberate, as he packed a bag with gloves, lockpicks, a flashlight, and a small handgun. Elijah caught himself watching the way his muscles shifted under his shirt, the fluid way he moved, like violence was second nature.
"You've done this a lot," Elijah said quietly.
"Too many times," Luca admitted. "But this time… it's different."
"How?"
"Because I care about the person I'm doing it for."
The air between them went still. Elijah looked away first, focusing on tightening the straps of his bag.
---
The streets were slick with rain when they set out. The city at night felt like a different creature—quieter, but more dangerous, its shadows deeper and its secrets closer to the surface.
They reached the edge of the docks without incident. The warehouse loomed ahead, a hulking shape of corrugated steel and darkness. Dim lights glowed from the inside.
"Two guards at the entrance," Luca whispered, peering from behind a stack of shipping crates. "And probably more inside. We go around back."
Elijah followed, heart pounding—not just from fear, but from the rush of knowing they were crossing a line.
---
The back entrance was locked, but Luca knelt and worked at it with practiced ease. Elijah stood watch, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.
A click.
The door creaked open.
Inside, the air smelled of oil and metal. Crates were stacked high, stamped with foreign shipping codes. Luca moved with purpose, scanning labels until he found one that made his eyes narrow.
"This is it," he said. "Weapons cache. He's getting ready for something bigger."
Before Elijah could ask what, footsteps echoed from the far end of the warehouse.
Luca grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the shadows between two stacks of crates. Elijah's back hit the cold steel, and Luca was suddenly inches away, his breath warm against his cheek.
"Don't move," Luca murmured.
---
Two guards passed by, talking in low voices. One lit a cigarette, the glow briefly illuminating their faces before they moved on.
When the footsteps faded, Luca didn't step back right away. His hand was still on Elijah's wrist, thumb brushing against his pulse as if making sure he was alive.
"You're shaking," Luca whispered.
"I'm not scared," Elijah whispered back. "Just… aware."
Luca's lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Good. Awareness keeps you alive."
---
They slipped deeper into the warehouse, planting a small timed charge on the weapons crate. Luca set it for thirty minutes—enough time to get out and disappear before the place erupted into chaos.
As they left, Elijah couldn't help glancing back. Part of him felt satisfaction at the thought of destruction. Another part feared how much he might come to enjoy it.
---
Back at the safehouse, they waited in tense silence until the distant echo of an explosion rolled through the night.
Luca looked over at Elijah, a rare, unguarded smile tugging at his lips. "One piece down."
Elijah didn't smile back—but he didn't look away either.
"Then let's take the rest."
And just like that, the pact was sealed—not in words, but in fire.