The Edge of Trust
The tires screeched as Luca whipped the SUV onto a side road, speeding away from the chaos at the docks. Emilia gritted her teeth against the searing pain in her shoulder, one hand pressed tightly over the wound. Her breath came in shallow gasps, but she refused to let it show.
Luca didn't speak.
His jaw was clenched, eyes fixed on the road ahead. The city lights blurred past the window, but Emilia could feel his fury even without looking at him. It pulsed off him like heat. Controlled, cold, and sharp enough to cut.
She finally spoke. "It was a setup. They knew we'd be there. Someone tipped them off."
"You're damn right someone did."
His voice was low, almost calm—which somehow made it worse. He glanced at her for the first time, eyes unreadable.
"And you're the only new variable in my life, Hart."
Her heart kicked hard. "You think I set you up? You were the one who brought me!"
"Yeah. And maybe that was my first mistake."
The silence returned, thicker than before. Emilia leaned her head back against the seat, breathing through the pain. The blood soaking her shirt was warm, sticky. She didn't know how deep the wound was, but it felt like a graze. She'd been lucky.
Luca didn't say another word. He just drove. Fast.
---
Safehouse — Outskirts of the City
The safehouse was an old stone estate tucked behind heavy iron gates and dense woods. Emilia barely registered the surroundings as Luca helped her out of the SUV and into the house. A heavy wooden door slammed shut behind them.
The air inside smelled of cedar and clean linen. It was quiet—eerily so.
"Sit," Luca ordered, guiding her to a leather couch in front of a dormant fireplace. He disappeared into another room and returned with a medical kit.
She hissed as he peeled her shirt back and dabbed at the wound. His fingers were steady, but she could feel the tension in him.
"Just a graze," he muttered. "But deep. You'll need stitches."
"Are you a doctor now?"
"No. But I've seen enough bullet wounds to qualify."
She winced as the needle pierced her skin, biting her tongue to keep from cursing.
"I didn't betray you," she said after a beat. "I was there to stop De Rossi's shipment. We both were."
Luca didn't respond.
He tied the last stitch, cut the thread, and stepped back. "You think this is all about weapons? About crates and shipments and alliances? You have no idea what you walked into."
She looked up at him, brow furrowing. "Then tell me."
He stared at her for a long moment, jaw tightening. "You think the FBI is the only one who plays double agents? De Rossi has someone inside my operation. Someone close. That's how they knew we'd be there tonight."
Emilia blinked. The implication hit hard.
"Then why accuse me?"
He crouched in front of her, eyes burning into hers. "Because trusting anyone in this world gets you killed."
"Then why bring me here? Why patch me up?"
His gaze flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes. "Because I'm not him. I don't leave people behind."
The house was quiet. Luca had disappeared somewhere upstairs. Emilia sat at the long wooden kitchen table with a mug of coffee going cold between her hands. Her shoulder throbbed, but the real ache was deeper.
Her cover was compromised. The moment at the docks had shaken everything loose. She couldn't contact Cole. Couldn't risk reaching out. And worst of all, she was starting to doubt herself.
Not her mission.
Her heart.
Footsteps sounded behind her. She didn't turn. She knew it was Luca.
He poured himself a drink—whiskey, this early. Or maybe he'd never stopped from the night before.
"You should sleep," he said.
"You're not sleeping."
"Didn't say I was smart."
She glanced over her shoulder at him. His shirt was rumpled. He looked like hell. But somehow still like sin incarnate.
"You think I'm lying to you," she said softly.
He didn't answer.
She stood slowly, facing him fully now. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't believe me."
He did.
And he couldn't.
She stepped closer. The space between them vanished.
"You saved me," she whispered. "Even when you thought I might've betrayed you. Why?"
He reached up, brushed a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered.
"Because something about you makes it hard to think straight."
Their lips were inches apart. His breath was warm against her mouth. She thought he might kiss her.
But he didn't.
Instead, he said, "Get some sleep, agent. You'll need your strength."
And he walked away.
Emilia lay on the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep was a distant hope.
The mission was unraveling.
Her handler was out of reach.
Her emotions were slipping past her defenses.
And somewhere in the depths of her heart, she knew the truth:
She was starting to fall for the enemy.
Outside, the wind stirred the trees. Somewhere in the house, a floorboard creaked. And Emilia Hart, FBI agent, watched the shadows move across the ceiling and wondered just how much more she was willing to risk for the man who should've been her target.
Morning would come with questions. But tonight, all she had were doubts.
And the echo of Luca's voice in her head: "I don't leave people behind."
Safehouse – Early Morning
The rain came down in soft, rhythmic sheets, tapping against the windows like a lullaby for the damned.
Emilia hadn't slept. She lay tangled in the sheets, staring into the pre-dawn light bleeding into the room. Her shoulder burned under the bandages Luca had wrapped, but it wasn't the pain keeping her awake. It was everything else.
The silence.
The doubt.
The way Luca's touch lingered even after he'd walked away.
She sat up slowly, her body protesting every movement. She needed answers. And she couldn't afford to let feelings cloud her judgment—not now, not when the mission was slipping through her fingers like sand.
She padded out of the room barefoot, the hardwood cool under her feet. The house was still. But she wasn't surprised to find Luca already awake, leaning over a cluttered table in the study with maps, photos, and a half-empty glass of whiskey.
He didn't look up. "You're supposed to be resting."
She ignored him, eyes narrowing at the mess on the table. Surveillance photos. Dock schematics. Names circled in red ink. One of them she recognized—Gallo Moretti, Luca's cousin.
"You think he's the leak?" she asked.
"I know he is," Luca muttered. "But proof is the problem."
She stepped closer, scanning the photos. "You planning on confronting him?"
Luca's jaw tightened. "I'm planning on watching him dig his own grave."
Emilia's throat went dry. The violence in his voice wasn't loud—it was low and dangerous. Calculated.
And that terrified her more than yelling ever could.
She picked up one of the photos. It showed Gallo in the back of a black sedan, talking to a familiar face.
Her eyes narrowed. "That's Dante De Rossi's consigliere. What the hell are they doing together?"
"That's what I intend to find out," Luca said, meeting her gaze. "And you're going to help me."
"What?"
"You want to prove you're not the rat?" He stepped closer. "Then come with me. We tail Gallo. We get the truth. Together."
For a second, her heart stumbled. Working with him—actually working with him—blurred even more lines. But if she backed out now, she'd lose the sliver of trust she'd managed to salvage.
"Fine," she said, voice steady. "When do we leave?"
"Tonight."
---
Evening — The City
They parked two blocks down from a private club in the Upper District, nestled between boutique hotels and pretentious wine bars. Emilia wore a black leather jacket over her bandages, her hair tied back tightly. She was tired. Wired. Ready.
Luca sat beside her, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on a holstered Glock.
"I don't usually bring civilians on stakeouts," he said, glancing at her.
"I'm not a civilian," she said coldly.
He smirked. "That's right. You're a ghost with a badge."
They watched in silence as Gallo's car pulled up to the curb. He got out alone, wearing an expensive gray suit and a face full of arrogance. He greeted someone inside the building—a shadow Emilia couldn't fully make out—and disappeared into the club.
Luca handed her an earpiece. "Stay in the car. If things go sideways, I want you out of here fast."
Emilia shoved the device into her ear. "You don't give me orders."
"Fine. Then consider it a favor—for me."
She didn't answer. But her heart betrayed her, beating harder as she watched him get out and melt into the shadows.
---
Inside the Club — VIP Lounge
The music was a low throb beneath the velvet-draped walls and crystal chandeliers. Luca moved like smoke through the club, bypassing guards with a nod or a bribe. He reached the upper lounge just in time to see Gallo seated at a round table, leaning forward to whisper something into the ear of a De Rossi lieutenant.
Luca's blood went cold.
Then the lieutenant nodded—and slid over a USB drive.
Evidence. Payment. Proof.
He snapped a quick photo with his burner phone and turned to leave—
—but a guard stepped out of nowhere, blocking the stairs.
"Name?"
Luca smiled, slow and dangerous. "You first."
And before the guard could react, Luca slammed his fist into the man's throat, catching him as he fell and dragging him into the dark.
Emilia heard the scuffle before she saw Luca.
"Luca, what happened?" she asked through the earpiece.
"Move," he barked. "They saw me."
Emilia jumped out of the car, throwing open the passenger door just as Luca slid in, breathless and furious. She slammed her door shut as tires squealed behind them.
Three black cars pulled out from the alley.
"They're following," she said.
"No shit."
He gunned the engine, and they sped into the night.
---
Safehouse — One Hour Later
They burst through the door, winded and flushed. Emilia ripped the earpiece from her head.
"That was not a clean getaway," she snapped.
Luca threw his jacket aside. "Yeah? Welcome to my life."
She glared at him. "You're reckless."
"You're rigid."
"You almost got us killed."
He stepped closer, towering over her. "And yet, we're alive. You're welcome."
They were too close. Again. The space between them charged like a live wire. Her shoulder throbbed, her heart pounded.
And then—he kissed her.
No warning. No hesitation.
It wasn't gentle.
It was war.
His hands tangled in her hair. Her fingers gripped his shirt. All the fear, the doubt, the lust and fury they'd bottled up exploded in that kiss.
She broke away first, breathless. "We shouldn't…"
"I know," he said, voice rough. "But I don't care."
Neither did she.
---
Later That Night
Emilia sat alone again, this time at the edge of the bed, pulling the USB drive from Luca's jacket pocket. He'd dropped it carelessly after peeling himself out of his clothes and collapsing into sleep.
She stared at it for a long moment.
Then she slid it into her burner laptop.
The screen blinked.
Encrypted files.
One labeled: Project Ashfall.
Her pulse jumped.
She wasn't falling for the enemy.
She was sleeping with him—while sitting on a bomb.
And it was about to blow them both apart.
The screen glowed cold and blue in the dark, casting harsh light across Emilia's face. She hadn't moved since she plugged in the drive. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, her breath slow and measured.
The file marked Project Ashfall blinked at her.
She double-clicked.
A progress bar crawled across the screen—then stopped.
PASSWORD REQUIRED.
She cursed under her breath. Of course it wasn't that easy. Whoever set this up knew exactly what they were protecting.
Behind her, Luca stirred. She froze, watching his silhouette shift in the moonlight filtering through the blinds. His arm reached across the empty space where she'd been. He muttered her name once in his sleep. Then fell still again.
Emilia's chest tightened. She closed the laptop softly and slid it back into its case.
She couldn't ask him for the password. Not yet. Not until she knew if the information on that drive would damn him—or save them both.
---
Morning – Kitchen
The smell of coffee grounded her like nothing else could. She stood barefoot at the counter, watching the percolator hiss, pretending her entire world wasn't teetering on a blade's edge.
Luca walked in, shirtless, hair still damp from the shower. He moved with that same slow, effortless grace—like danger with a heartbeat.
"You sleep at all?" he asked, eyeing her.
She gave him a tight smile. "A few hours."
He poured himself a cup and leaned against the sink. "You always lie that badly?"
She raised a brow. "Only when necessary."
He chuckled, low and rough. "You'll have to get better at it. If we're going to take down Gallo, we're going to need masks thick enough to fool the devil."
Emilia sipped her coffee. "What's the plan?"
"We push him," Luca said, suddenly all business. "Tonight, he's meeting with a second De Rossi contact at the docks. I want you close. Wired."
Her stomach dropped. "You want me to go undercover?"
He nodded. "As yourself. Gallo trusts you. He doesn't know I do."
She hesitated. "And what if he figures it out?"
Luca leaned in, voice soft but hard as ice. "Then I kill him before he touches you."
Emilia met his eyes. "You don't hesitate much, do you?"
"I can't afford to," he said. "Not anymore."
---
That Night – Abandoned Docks
The air smelled like rust and salt. The warehouse on Pier 9 loomed like a broken tooth, half-collapsed and shrouded in fog. Perfect for secrets.
Emilia stood by the railing, earpiece in place, nerves coiled tight in her chest.
She'd done undercover ops before. But this felt different. Not because of the risk—but because Luca's eyes were on her. Somewhere out there in the dark, watching. Waiting.
A black car rolled up. Gallo stepped out, sharp in a navy overcoat, his gold ring flashing under the dock lights.
"Emilia," he said with a grin. "Didn't think I'd see you again after the party. Heard things got… messy."
She smiled coolly. "You know how parties are."
Gallo gestured toward the shadows. Another man stepped out. Not a De Rossi—this one was FBI.
Her heart nearly stopped.
Agent Lowell. One of her old handlers.
He didn't look at her. Didn't acknowledge her.
And yet his presence said everything: Ashfall wasn't just a Moretti problem—it was federal.
Gallo turned to her, eyes glittering. "You still interested in real power, sweetheart? Or is Luca just a phase?"
"I'm always interested in power," she said, keeping her tone even. "But I don't come cheap."
Gallo laughed. "That's what I like about you."
Lowell handed over a second USB drive.
"Insurance," he said. "In case your cousin decides to grow a conscience."
Emilia's pulse spiked. A second drive?
Lowell glanced at her—just once. A flash of recognition. Then he turned and walked away.
Gallo pocketed the drive and stepped closer. "Tell Luca to back off, Emilia. Or I'll bury him myself."
She smiled.
Then punched him square in the jaw.
Gallo staggered backward, blood on his lip. "You bitch—"
A red dot landed on his forehead.
"Try it," Luca's voice said through the earpiece. "I f**king dare you."
Gallo froze. He knew what a sniper's mark meant. He hissed something under his breath and turned on his heel, disappearing into the car.
Emilia stood still, heart hammering, breathing hard.
"Move," Luca said. "Now."
---
Back at the Safehouse – Midnight
The door slammed behind them.
"What the hell was that?" Luca barked.
"He had another drive," Emilia snapped. "And that was a fed. My handler, Luca. The Bureau is involved."
He stared at her, blood draining from his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know!" she shouted. "Not until I saw him."
A long pause. Then, quieter: "And now?"
Emilia dropped her coat. "Now I know I'm not the only one being played."
She tossed the USB onto the table.
Luca picked it up like it might explode. "You think this is connected to Ashfall?"
"I'm sure of it."
He stared at her. "And you're sure you're still on my side?"
Emilia stepped toward him, slow and deliberate.
"I don't know whose side I'm on," she said, voice low. "But I know who I trust in a fight. And it's not the Bureau."
Luca's expression twisted, a mix of anger and something else—relief.
Then he reached for her. And this time, she let him.
---
Later – 3:27 AM
She couldn't sleep. Again.
But not because of doubt. Because of certainty.
The drives. The connections. The name Ashfall.
And the cold realization dawning on her like morning sun:
This wasn't just about Luca.
It was bigger.
Older.
And it was about to burn every false god in this city to the ground.