Chapter Four: Into the lions den

Elena stood before the mirror, fastening the delicate silver chain around her neck. The cool metal brushed against her collarbone, a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. Her reflection stared back at her—sharp cheekbones, deep-set blue eyes, and a carefully neutral expression that she had perfected over the years. She smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles in her blouse, taking a deep breath. Today was important. Today, she would take the first real step into Moretti’s world.

But first, she had to get through the morning.

The apartment was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the city beyond the windows. Sunlight seeped through the sheer curtains, casting golden patterns across the wooden floor. The air was thick with the scent of lavender, a desperate attempt to cover the ever-present medicinal smell that clung to the walls.

Elena turned away from the mirror, her heels clicking against the floor as she made her way down the short hallway. She paused outside a door—the only one that remained shut at all times. The white paint had begun to chip at the edges, a silent testament to the years that had passed.

She inhaled deeply before pushing it open.

Inside, the air was different. Heavier.

The room was dim, the thick curtains drawn shut to keep out the world beyond. Stacks of books lay untouched on the bedside table, their spines coated with dust. A few picture frames stood crooked on the dresser, displaying frozen moments in time—her father’s tired but warm smile, her mother’s laughter before grief stole it away.

And in the center of the room, sitting by the window, was the woman who had once been full of life.

Margaret Carter was barely a shadow of who she used to be. Her once golden hair had dulled, streaked with strands of silver. Her skin, which had been full of warmth, now looked pale and fragile, as if the wrong touch could shatter her. She sat in an oversized armchair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the walls of this room.

Elena’s heart twisted.

"Morning, Mom," she said softly, stepping inside.

Margaret didn’t respond immediately. It was always like this. Some days were better than others, but most were like this—silent, distant, lost.

Elena knelt beside her, placing a hand on her mother’s frail fingers. "It’s a beautiful day outside," she tried again. "The sun’s out. You used to love mornings like this."

Margaret’s eyes flickered, just for a second. A brief sign of recognition before they drifted away again.

Elena swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She had long since stopped expecting miracles. Her mother had been like this ever since that night—ever since the bullet that tore through Michael Carter’s chest had also torn her apart.

At first, Margaret had fought. She had gone through the motions, trying to stay strong for Elena’s sake. But grief was relentless. It chipped away at her bit by bit until, one day, she simply stopped fighting.

Stopped living.

Elena brushed her thumb over her mother’s knuckles. "I have a job interview today," she murmured. "A big one."

Margaret didn’t respond, but that was okay. Elena just needed to say it out loud, even if she was the only one listening.

A knock at the front door startled her.

Elena stood, giving her mother one last glance before stepping away. "That must be Mrs. Patel."

She made her way to the door, unlocking it to reveal a stout woman in her sixties. Mrs. Patel had been their caregiver for the past three years, her presence a small but steady source of stability in their otherwise broken home.

"Good morning, dear," the older woman greeted, stepping inside with a kind smile. She held up a bag of groceries. "I brought some fresh fruit. Thought Margaret might like some today."

Elena forced a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Patel. You’re a lifesaver."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Patel waved a dismissive hand. "How’s she doing today?"

Elena hesitated. "The same."

The woman sighed, patting Elena’s arm. "Go on, then. I’ll take care of things here. You have somewhere important to be, don’t you?"

Elena nodded.

As she stepped out into the city, the crisp air filled her lungs, grounding her. She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, her mind already shifting to what lay ahead.

This wasn’t just any job she was applying for.

This was the beginning of something dangerous. Something that could cost her everything.

But that didn’t matter.

Because this was also her chance.

This was her life. The past was always there, haunting the walls of their small home, lurking in every shadow.

But today, she had a mission.

HOURS LATER

The evening air was crisp as Elena walked toward the subway, her mind already running through every detail of her cover identity. She had memorized the file—her new name, her background, the fabricated history that would make her seem like just another desperate woman looking for a job.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She pulled it out, already knowing who it was.

"Captain Reeves," she answered, keeping her voice steady.

"Are you ready for this?" His voice was gruff, but there was something else in it—concern.

"Affirmative," she replied, boarding the subway. "Everything is set."

There was a pause. Then, "Be careful, Carter. Moretti isn’t like the others we’ve dealt with. He’s not just another criminal. He’s calculated. And he’s always three steps ahead."

Elena’s fingers tightened around the phone.

"I know what I’m doing," she said.

Another pause. Then a sigh. "Good luck."

The call ended.

Elena slipped her phone back into her pocket and leaned against the subway pole, her jaw set.

Luck had nothing to do with it.

The club was nothing like she had imagined.

Elena had expected luxury, but this… this was on another level.

The moment she stepped out of the cab and onto the pavement, she felt the weight of the place pressing down on her. The building itself was a fortress—tall, sleek, and exuding power. A golden nameplate above the entrance read Inferno, glowing under the dim streetlights.

A long line of people stretched down the block, waiting for entry, but none of them were here for a job. No, they were here to bask in the luxury, the danger, the exclusivity of it all.

Her eyes flickered toward the entrance, where two enormous bouncers stood guard. Their tailored black suits barely concealed the sheer muscle beneath. Each of them wore an earpiece, their expressions unreadable.

Elena inhaled sharply and walked toward the side entrance, where a handful of other applicants were gathered.

The tension in the air was thick.

Women, mostly in their twenties, dressed to impress, stood around fidgeting with their applications. Some were whispering to one another, casting wary glances at the security. Others stood stiffly, silent, their faces unreadable.

Elena took her place in line, her fingers tightening around the folder containing her fabricated résumé.

She wasn’t sure if she would get the job.

She wasn’t sure if she even looked the part.

But one thing was certain—if she failed here, she would lose her only chance to get close to Adrian Moretti.

The minutes dragged on. Every so often, a guard would step out, take a few applications, and return inside, leaving the rest of them to wait.

Elena exhaled slowly, trying to push down the nerves.

And then—

Everything changed.

A ripple went through the crowd. A hush, like the calm before a storm.

Elena felt it before she saw it.

The shift in the air. The quiet murmur of voices lowering to whispers. The stiffening of shoulders.

Then, the doors opened.

And he stepped in.

Adrian Moretti.

Even without recognizing his face from the case files, she would have known.

The presence he carried was suffocating.

He was dressed in all black—a tailored suit that fit him perfectly, the crisp lines of his jacket framing the sharp angles of his body. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his expression was unreadable, cold.

His eyes…

They swept over the room, taking in every detail, every movement. It was as if he saw everything at once—the nervous shifting of the applicants, the security’s subtle adjustments, even the way the air itself seemed to still around him.

Elena’s breath hitched.

It was no exaggeration—Adrian Moretti commanded attention without a single word.

He walked with the ease of a man who knew he was in control.

As he passed, the guards straightened, the applicants stiffened, and even the music inside the club seemed to dim.

Elena forced herself to remain calm. To keep her breathing even.

She had prepared for this moment, trained for it.

But as his gaze briefly flickered over her before moving on, she realized something unsettling.

No amount of training could have prepared her for him.

And for the first time since taking this mission, doubt crept in.

Would she really be able to fool him?

The doors closed behind him, and the tension in the room slowly lifted.

Elena clenched her fists, pushing down the uncertainty clawing at her chest.

This wasn’t about him.

This was about justice.

This was about her father.

No matter what, she couldn’t forget that.

And yet, as she stood there, waiting for her turn, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something in her world had just shifted.

And there was no going back.