Identity

Ghost

Yeah, he’s not so fucking innocent, for months we were seeing each other, spending time together. That night we kissed, and it was fucking epic. Then…Everything shattered.

**Years before**

The air is thick with tension, every step toward the De Luca estate tightening the knot in my chest. My father walks ahead, his posture rigid, his hand never far from the gun holstered under his coat. The damp night air feels suffocating, and I can see the looming figure of Giovanni De Luca waiting for us, arms crossed, his frown carved deep into his face like stone.

“Giovanni,” my father says, his voice even but sharp as a blade. “We’re here.”

“Salvatore,” Giovanni growls back, his tone dripping with disdain. “A pleasure to have you here. But don’t think this is any sign of an alliance. We’re still at war.”

My father smirks coldly. “Like I’d have it any other way. We’re here to pick up our dead, nothing more.”

Giovanni nods, his lips curling in a sneer. “Fine. My son, the future heir, will show your… whatever he is… where the bodies are.”

The insult lands heavy in the air, and I step forward before my father can react, my blood boiling. “I’m your son’s worst fucking nightmare,” I snap.

But then, everything inside me freezes as someone steps out from behind Giovanni. His dark hair catches the dim light, his sharp features twisted in confusion as his eyes lock on mine. No. This has to be some sort of cruel joke. His steps falter, too, his expression shifting from shock to something unreadable.

“Figlio,” Giovanni barks, snapping him out of his daze. “Show the Moretti heir where the bodies are.”

He nods stiffly, his jaw clenched, but his feet seem glued to the ground. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk past him, guards flanking me like shadows. The silence between us is unbearable, suffocating. My mind races, pieces falling into place too fast to keep up. The guy I’ve been meeting in secret, kissing under the cover of night, is him. The De Luca heir. The fucking Prince.

---

Later, when the bodies are loaded and the air reeks of blood and loss, I can’t take it anymore. I rush to the meeting point, my pulse pounding in my ears. The place feels darker than usual, the weight of what just happened bearing down on me. I don’t have to wait long. He storms into view, his eyes blazing, his movements sharp and furious.

“You!” he roars, his voice echoing in the quiet woods. His fist swings before I can react, crashing into my jaw with enough force to send me stumbling back.

“This was all a fucking game to you, wasn’t it?” he seethes, his chest heaving with rage. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew who I was, and you—”

“A game?” I cut him off, my voice raw. “You think I kissed you as a game? You’re insane.”

“Oh, I’m insane?” he snaps, his face twisted in disgust. “You’re the one who’s fucked in the head, Ghost.”

The way he spits my name feels like a knife to the gut. I barely feel the next punch before it lands, splitting my lip and sending a hot streak of blood down my chin.

“My father warned me about you,” he snarls, his voice venomous. “You’re a disgrace. A fucking psychopath.”

Still stunned, I take his hits, my mind stuck on one brutal fact: he’s De Luca’s son. I thought keeping our names a secret would protect this thing we had, but it’s done the opposite. It’s destroyed it.

When he finally stops, leaning over me, his face inches from mine, his eyes are filled with pure hatred. “You repulse me,” he spits, his words like acid.

I wipe the blood from my mouth, straightening despite the throbbing in my jaw. “I repulse you? But you kissed me. Again and again. You wanted it just as much as I did.”

He steps back like my words physically hit him, his face twisting in denial. “You’re delusional,” he says coldly, his voice cutting through the thick air. “Nothing happened. Stay away from me and my family.” And then he turns and disappears into the trees, leaving me standing there, my fists clenched, blood dripping onto the dirt.

**Present Day**

Yeah, to say he’s done a full fucking 180 is an understatement. He buried who he was that night—shoved it so deep I bet he can’t even remember what it felt like to be free, to be real. But I remember. And since then, I’ve made it my mission to remind him.

Every taunt, every stolen shipment, every confrontation—I’ve done it all to get under his skin. To make him remember the fire we had. To make him feel it.

He can lie to himself all he wants, pretend he’s this perfect little prince with a clean slate and a spotless reputation. But deep down, he knows the truth.

He loved it. And I’ll be damned if I let him forget it.