4 — The Meeting

Ethan's POV

I don’t even know why I’m doing this.

The thought played on a loop in my head as my motorcycle ate up the empty road. Ahead of me, the old factory rose out of the darkness. It was stupid, coming here alone or just simply come. But I did it without really knowing why.

I killed the engine a ways off, the sudden silence settling. I was already here. No turning back now.

I parked the bike and walked the rest of the way. The whole place felt empty and dead.

I was about halfway across the cracked parking lot when shadows moved away from the walls Andrew froze.

Men. Five of them moved quietly, surrounding me without saying a word.

One stepped forward. His face was hard to see in the dark.

"Are you alone?" he asked. His voice flat.

"Yeah," I said. "I’m alone."

He came closer, his hands patting me down, checking for a weapon. "Did anyone follow you?"

I opened my mouth to answer, when a voice cut through the darkness from behind them.

"Leave him."

The men immediately stepped back, making a path. And there he was, Luca Vitale.

Luca walked out of the shadows. He wasn't in a suit like at the funeral. Just dark jeans and a jacket but he looked Stunning.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, time stopped so much so that I could hear the pounding of my own heart in my ears.

Without a word, he beckoned me to

follow him inside. "Leave us," he ordered d the men went back into the shadows.

Once we were alone inside the cavernous, empty factory, I stood two steps away from him and I could really see him. Without the sunglasses, the crowd, or the distance. He was taller than me. And up close, he was… more intense. More attractive. It was stupid to even notice, but I did.

"It seems you came alone," he said. His voice was quieter in here. "That’s a sign of trust. It means a lot."

If only you knew I had no other choice, I thought. Instead, I shrugged and looked around at the empty space. "You brought an entire army."

"Don’t worry about them. They’re trustworthy. And no one on my side knows we're seeing each other." He shifted his weight, his eyes not leaving mine. "I’m sorry about my men. And… thank you. For coming."

He still hadn’t looked away from me. And the way he was holding my gaze was too much. It made my skin feel too tight. I could feel a stupid blush starting to creep up my neck. I looked down at the dusty floor. "It’s nothing."

"No," he said, his voice soft but serious. "It’s not nothing." He took a small step closer. "You lost your brother. And your uncle, too. I am… truly sorry. That must be hard."

He said it like he meant it and being this close to him, in the dark, was doing things to me I couldn’t control. I had to focus.

"That's not why we're here," I said, sporting a stern look.

"I know," Luca said, his expression turning serious. "Think about it. If my father wanted you dead on our own turf, he wouldn’t use a bomb. He’d make it look like an accident. A fire. A car crash. Something clean. Not some messy public spectacle that brings cops and questions."

He shook his head slightly. "This? This was meant to be loud. This was meant to start a war."

"What if that was the attempt, and it failed?" I shot back, the anger from the last few days bubbling up.

Luca shook his head, a frustrated look on his face. "Use your head, Ethan. If the Blackwoods were hosting, on your own turf, and we were the targets… what are the chances even one of us would have walk away?"

I didn't want to admit it, but he was right. The math didn't add up. After a few seconds, I muttered, "None."

"Exactly. It's the same for us. If my father wanted yours dead, Dominic would already be gone. This was messy. This was meant to look like us, to get you angry. So the real question is, who benefits from us going to war?"

The idea had been scratching at the back of my mind since the funeral. "The Russians," I suggested. "The Bratva."

But Luca shook his head again. "No. They operate in different circles. Ports, oil, cyber stuff. This? This is old-school. This is personal." He took a step closer, his voice dropping even lower. "I think it came from inside."

A thick silence followed his words.

"Someone who wants a war," he continued. "Someone who thinks they can grab power from your father, or mine, in all the chaos. You should look into that. See who in your family might be getting impatient."

My stomach dropped. The thought that one of our own could have killed Caleb, killed uncle Sam… it was almost too much to consider.

"It would be difficult for one of our men to have planted a bomb in your home right under your nose. So if it had to come from the inside, it would have come from your home." I said with no hesitation.

Luca nodded, the hard look in his eyes easing up just a bit. "You're not wrong. I will also explore this track on my side but but just think about what I said. And... thanks. For coming." He let out a quiet breath. "We should go. Now."

"That's all?" I asked, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.

He hesitated, then said, "Yes."

"Okay."I mumble, turning to leave, my chest tight with disappointment and confusion. But before I took two steps, his hand caught mine, pulling me back toward him.

"No," he said, his voice low. "That's not all."

And then he kissed me.

It wasn't gentle or questioning. It was sure, like he'd been thinking about it as long as I had. And for a moment, I let myself fall into it. I forgot about the war, the funerals, the anger. There was only his mouth on mine and the way my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was warm against my lips. "I've loved you from the first moment I saw you," he whispered. "I could never hurt you."

My face flushed hot. I took a step back, scrambling to pull myself together. "I have to go," I managed to say, my voice unsteady.

"Be careful." He said with a touch of concern in his voice.

I didn't look back as I walked away, but I could feel his eyes on me until I disappeared into the shadows.

I drove home on autopilot. All I could think about was the kiss. The way his hand felt on mine. The words he'd said.

I parked my bike inside the old shed at the edge of our property, my heart still racing from the ride, or maybe from the kiss. I made sure everything was hidden before pushing aside the loose floorboard in the corner. Beneath it was a trapdoor, camouflaged by grass and dirt. I pulled it open and climbed down into the dark, damp tunnel that ran under the grounds.

I moved quickly in the narrow passage. This tunnel was our emergency exit, known only to a few. It led straight to a hidden door in the basement of the main house. If I had gone through the main entrance, I might have run into my father and had to explain where I came from.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the basement, closing it quietly behind me. The familiar smell of home was a relief.

But the relief didn’t last.

A voice cut through the shadows from behind me, cold and clear

"Coming from you," it said, "I could have expected anything but treating with the enemy, I didn't see that coming."

I froze. My blood ran cold.