AWAKENING THE STORM

The fire in the fireplace crackled softly, but it did nothing to warm the ice crawling through Luciano’s chest. He stood at the edge of the bed, watching Aria sleep, his shoulders tight with a rage that had nowhere to go.

She stirred.

A soft sound.

Then a whisper. “Luciano…”

He was at her side in an instant. “I’m here.”

Her lashes fluttered open slowly, unfocused. She blinked. Her gaze found his.

“What happened?” she asked groggily.

“You’re safe,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. “You passed out. From the gas.”

Her brows drew together as it all came rushing back—the chamber, the glass walls, the fear.

And Lorenzo.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

Luciano shook his head. “Gone. For now. He disappeared before we could catch him. But that’s not what matters right now.”

He pulled the chair closer, sitting beside her, fingers interlaced with hers.

“There’s something you need to know.”

Aria looked at him with growing tension. “What is it?”

“My father…” He swallowed the words like poison. “Antonio Moretti. He’s alive.”

She stared at him, trying to make sense of it. “But… he died. Years ago. That’s what everyone said—”

“It was a lie. A staged death. Isadora had proof. She gave me a flash drive—footage of him. Orders. Plans.”

“Plans for what?” she whispered.

“For you,” Luciano said, voice hardening. “He wanted you captured. Alive. To draw me in. You were the trap.”

Aria’s face paled.

The silence between them was suffocating.

“So all of this,” she said slowly, “was orchestrated by him?”

“No,” Luciano said firmly. “He may have set the match, but I made the fire. I chose you. I fell for you. That part… that part was mine.”

Her throat worked around a knot of emotion. “And what now?”

Luciano stood and began pacing, the storm inside him rising again.

“We go to war,” he said. “We find him. We end him.”

“You think it’s that simple?” she asked, sitting up slowly. “He faked his death and vanished for years, built an entire shadow empire, manipulated us from behind the scenes. He’s not going to make it easy.”

“I’m not looking for easy.” His voice was steel. “I’m looking for final.”

She stared at him, seeing the darkness in his expression—the desperation, the vengeance. She stood, legs shaky, and crossed the room to him.

When she placed her palm on his chest, he flinched—not from pain, but from how tender it felt.

“You can’t do this alone,” she whispered.

“I won’t let him take you.”

“I’m not asking you to let him,” she said. “I’m asking you to let me fight with you.”

He looked down at her, shocked.

“I’m not the girl you locked in a gilded room anymore, Luciano. I’m not a pawn. Not a prize. And not his leverage.”

She pulled a gun from the drawer beside the bed and handed it to him.

“Teach me.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. Train me. Prepare me. Because I’m not hiding while this war comes. I’m going to stand beside you.”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Just stared.

Then slowly, something shifted.

Respect.

Pride.

Maybe even fear—because she wasn’t the same woman he’d first taken into his world.

She’d adapted.

She’d burned.

And now she was rising from the ashes.

“I’ll train you,” he said finally, gripping her chin. “But you have to promise me something.”

“What?”

“If things go south… you run. No matter what happens to me.”

“No.”

“Aria—”

“No.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t waver. “If you fall, I fall. That’s the deal.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what she was saying.

But in truth?

He could.

She was his match in every way now.

And there was no turning back.

Luciano turned to the comm on the wall and pressed the button.

“Mateo. Gather everyone. The inner circle. We meet in the war room in one hour. I want eyes in the north. I want to know every shipment, every mole, every whispered name tied to Antonio Moretti.”

“Yes, sir,” came Mateo’s reply.

Luciano turned back to Aria. “This ends with his blood.”

She nodded, gripping the gun tighter.

“And if we fail?” she asked softly.

He pulled her close, their foreheads pressed together. “Then we fall in fire. Together.”

And just as she leaned into him, the door burst open.

Mateo stood breathless.

“Sir. We have a problem.”

Luciano’s jaw clenched. “What now?”

“There’s been a breach. Someone got into the east wing security room. Wiped everything. All surveillance from the last twenty-four hours. Gone.”

Aria froze. “Lorenzo.”

Mateo shook his head. “No… It was someone else.”

He handed over a printed still from a hidden backup camera.

Luciano’s eyes narrowed.

Isadora.

Caught in grainy black and white, walking out of the east wing.

Alone.

With a bag.

Full of drives.

Full of lies.