Chapter Three: First Encounter
Most people would think I was crazy.
Getting closer to the man who might've ordered my father's death? Letting him speak to me, study me, test me?
But I wasn't afraid. I was prepared.
Still, nothing could've fully prepared me for the moment I stood in front of his office door the next day, his guards stepping aside with silent nods like I'd already been accepted. Like I belonged here.
I didn't.
I belonged in the ground beside my father—or at the very least, in the shadows, planning my next move.
Not standing outside Killian Moretti's inner sanctum, about to step into the lion's den.
The office was dim, sleek, and cold. Black walls. Minimal furniture. Steel desk. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city like he ruled it.
He sat behind the desk, reading something on his tablet, fingers steepled beneath his chin. When he looked up, the air shifted.
"Close the door."
I did.
"Sit."
I obeyed.
His eyes didn't leave mine. "That shot you took last night. It was clean."
I said nothing.
"You saved my life."
Still nothing.
His brow lifted slightly. "Not even a thank-you?"
"I wasn't looking for one."
He leaned back in his chair. "Then what are you looking for, Rena Vale?"
My stomach twisted at the name. Not mine. Never was.
"I told you. I follow orders."
"No," he said, his voice a low hum. "You lead. I've seen it. You're strategic. Quiet. Dangerous when you need to be. So the real question is—why are you hiding behind a bar?"
He was peeling me open like a surgeon. I hated it.
I met his gaze head-on. "You offering something better?"
He didn't smile. But there was a flicker in his eyes—something close to amusement. "I might be."
I sat perfectly still. A good predator doesn't show hunger. A better one makes you feed it.
Killian stood and moved to the window. "We've got rats in the syndicate. Leaks. Deals getting intercepted. People getting killed. Last night wasn't random. Someone's feeding intel to our enemies."
I blinked. Was this it? Did he suspect me?
"You think it's me?" I asked quietly.
"No." He turned. "If it was, you'd have let me die."
I swallowed hard.
"But you're useful," he continued. "You're new. Clean. Which means I can move you where others can't go. Watch things. Report back."
"You want me to spy on your own men?"
"I want you to survive. That job requires loyalty. And guts."
"And if I say no?"
He tilted his head slightly. "Then you're no longer useful. And useless people don't last long in my world."
He wasn't bluffing.
This wasn't an offer—it was a test. I had no choice but to say yes. And deep down, I didn't want to say no. Getting inside meant access. Access meant answers.
And answers meant revenge.
"I'm in."
His eyes flicked over my face. "Good."
He walked toward me, slowly, like a lion circling something that hadn't decided whether it was prey or partner.
"You've got a week to prove yourself. After that, you either have my trust… or my attention."
I stood.
"Don't make the mistake of thinking those two are the same," he added.
I didn't flinch. "Wouldn't dream of it."
As I left the office, the weight of his gaze followed me.
I'd just accepted a devil's deal.
And the only way out now… was through the fire.