The city outside was waking, but inside the safe-house, silence pressed down like a weight. Even though Lorenzo's men had scrubbed and cleaned, the wreckage of last night still clung to the air. The faint smell of gunpowder lingered, stubborn and impossible to ignore, as if reminding Aria that blood had been spilled here.
She hadn't slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the masked man's pistol pressed to her ribs, felt his blood soaking hot and sticky across her skin when he fell. The memory looped endlessly, dragging her awake before her body could rest.
When the door creaked open, she startled. Lorenzo stepped in, carrying two steaming mugs. Without a word, he set one in front of her and leaned casually against the wall with his own.
"Coffee," he said flatly. "Drink. You'll need it."
Her throat was raw, her voice breaking as she whispered, "Need it for what?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze studied her carefully, the tremble in her fingers, the dark circles under her eyes, the way she tried to sit tall even as she shook.
"You said it yourself," he reminded her. "You don't plan on dying. That means you start now."
Her chest tightened. "Start what?"
"Training."
The word landed like a stone. Aria's breath hitched. She clenched her hands in her lap, resisting the urge to flinch.
"I'm not one of your soldiers."
"No," Lorenzo said, sipping his coffee without breaking eye contact. "You're worse. You're the prize Sebastian wants most. That makes you more dangerous than any soldier here, if you know how to use it."
Her eyes dropped to the faint stain of dried blood still marking her dress. A shiver ran down her spine.
"I almost died last night."
His reply was merciless. "And you will again, if you don't learn."
By noon, the safe-house courtyard cracked with gunfire.
Aria gripped the pistol in both hands, arms straining, but the weapon felt heavy, awkward, like it didn't belong to her. Every shot she pulled sent her flinching, her body jolting.
"Stop shaking," Lorenzo barked.
"I'm not," Her protest died as the gun wavered wildly. She squeezed the trigger, missed the target entirely.
Lorenzo moved behind her, his hand firm over hers, his voice sharp in her ear. "You're thinking like a caged bird. Forget precision. Right now, all you need is the will to pull the trigger."
She spun on him, fury and frustration boiling over. "You think this is easy? That I can just become one of you overnight?"
Silence stretched for a beat. Then his gaze, dark, steady, unreadable, locked with hers.
"No," he said quietly. "But I think you want it more than you admit."
Her chest rose sharply, caught off guard.
Because he was right. Somewhere beneath the fear, something had shifted. Last night she had chosen fire over the cage. Last night, she had screamed for him to shoot.
The thought unsettled her more than the pistol in her grip.
By evening, her arms ached from recoil, her ears rang with echoes of gunfire, and her throat burned from arguing. But she hit the target. Once. Twice. Then again.
Finally, Lorenzo lowered his own weapon, giving her a faint nod. "Not bad for a princess."
The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself. "Don't call me that."
"Why not?" His smirk was wicked. "You're still wearing a crown, just a different one now."
Something unspoken passed between them, dangerous and undeniable. Heat flickered. She looked away first, fumbling with the holster, her hands still trembling.
But in her chest, something else stirred. Not freedom. Not yet. But the promise of it.
Night fell. The safe-house dimmed. Guards rotated shifts at every exit. Aria sat by the window, watching the city lights glitter in the distance, almost believing she could feel safe.
Until Lorenzo's phone buzzed.
He answered in clipped tones, listening. She couldn't hear the other voice, but she saw the way his expression hardened, his jaw tightening like stone.
When he hung up, he poured himself a drink and swallowed it in one gulp.
Her stomach twisted. "What happened?"
His eyes found hers, sharp and unyielding.
"Sebastian isn't just looking for you anymore. He's sending a message."
Her grip tightened on the windowsill. "What message?"
Lorenzo hesitated, and that pause told her everything.
Finally, he spoke. "One of my men's families. Gone. House burned to ash."
The air in her lungs turned to ice. She pressed her hand to her mouth. "He's… killing innocents?"
"He's not just after you, Aria." Lorenzo's voice was low, dark as a blade sliding from its sheath. "He's after everyone around me. This is war. And he won't stop until he breaks us, or we break him."
Aria's chest ached. She thought of the glossy magazine covers, the fairy-tale smile she'd worn at Sebastian's side. She thought of the cameras, the headlines, the lie she'd lived.
And she thought of flames devouring an innocent home, because of her.
Her voice was a whisper, but it shook with steel. "Then teach me faster."
For a moment, Lorenzo's gaze softened, raw with something he didn't name.
But before he could reply, the lights flickered. Once. Twice.
And died.
The safe-house plunged into darkness.
Aria froze, her breath caught in her throat.
Lorenzo's gun was already in his hand. His voice was sharp, certain.
"They've found us."