The dock was alive with tension. Shadows stretched under the flickering lights of cargo cranes, the scent of saltwater and diesel heavy in the air. Alessia's heart pounded as she followed Luca through the maze of shipping containers.
"Stay close," he whispered, never taking his eyes off the dark shapes ahead.
"I'm not going to slow you down," she replied, her voice firm despite the fear curling in her stomach.
"Good," he muttered, tone tight. "Because I can't afford mistakes."
Ahead, two unmarked boats bobbed in the water, and armed men moved with quiet efficiency. Luca signaled to his team, and they melted into the shadows, preparing to intercept—but Alessia noticed something subtle: a small crate off to the side, partially hidden.
Without thinking, she moved toward it.
"Alessia!" Luca hissed.
She froze, but the curiosity—and instinct—propelled her. Inside the crate were stacks of weapons, clearly not meant for casual transport. Alessia's pulse spiked. She understood enough to realize the danger: these men weren't just thugs. They were professionals.
Luca approached silently, placing a hand on her shoulder—not to push, but to steady her. "This is serious. Stay close and do exactly what I say."
"I can handle it," she said, meeting his eyes.
A tense silence hung over the dock. Then, the first shot rang out—a warning. Shadows shifted, and Alessia saw the men draw guns. Adrenaline surged.
"Go!" Luca barked, grabbing her hand. They sprinted behind a container just as bullets thudded into metal beside them.
Her heart was racing, but Alessia didn't panic. She ducked, took note of an escape route through a narrow alley, and whispered directions to Luca.
He glanced at her, surprise flickering across his usually unreadable face. "You're… fearless," he said quietly, almost breathless.
"I'm smart," Alessia shot back, smirking despite the chaos. "Fearless is optional."
He laughed softly—briefly—but it faded as the gunfire resumed. Together, they maneuvered through the shadows, moving with a synchronicity that surprised even him.
Finally, they reached a safe corner, hidden from the men's sight. Luca's chest heaved, and he leaned closer, voice low and intense.
"You're incredible," he said, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. "And completely insane."
Alessia laughed, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. "You said the same thing about the club the other night."
"I wasn't exaggerating then either," he said, his green eyes glinting under the dock lights.
For a moment, everything else fell away—the danger, the bullets, the rivalries. It was just the two of them, standing inches apart, the salt air and chaos surrounding them like a world of its own.
Luca reached up, cupping her cheek gently. Alessia's breath caught.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispered.
She tilted her head toward him, heart hammering. "And you have no idea what you do to me," she replied, barely audible.
The tension between them snapped like lightning. Luca leaned closer, lips brushing hers—close enough that she could feel his warmth, the heat of his pulse, the magnetic pull she couldn't resist.
And then, a sharp shout rang from the far side of the dock—his men signaling they'd secured the intruders. Reality returned like a tidal wave.
Luca pulled back, his hand lingering against hers, eyes burning with intensity. "You're impossible," he muttered, half a growl, half a laugh.
"Likewise," Alessia whispered, her heart still racing, her pulse wild.
For the first time, Alessia realized something profound: in Luca DeMarco's world, danger wasn't just something to survive—it was a test of trust, courage, and connection.
And tonight, she had passed.
But she also knew the game was far from over.
Bianca was still scheming, the mafia world was never safe, and Luca… well, Luca was impossible.
And Alessia? She was determined to remain untouchable.
But maybe, just maybe, untouchable didn't mean unfeeling.