CHAPTER 2-THE GIRL IN THE CAFÉ

Morning sunlight crept through the café window, warm and soft against the walls that smelled of coffee and cinnamon. Aria Russo moved behind the counter with practiced rhythm, her hands steady even though her eyes showed the faint exhaustion of another long shift.

The bell above the door jingled every few seconds as customers drifted in and out. She smiled when she had to, laughed when expected, and kept everything else tucked neatly behind the calm mask she had worn for years.

Aria had learned early that the world rewarded people who kept going no matter how tired they were. So she did. She worked double shifts at La Rosa Café, studied online at night, and took care of herself without help from anyone.

Ava leaned on the counter beside her, sipping an iced coffee she didn’t pay for. She was the opposite of Aria in every way, with blonde curls, bright clothes, and a mouth that never stopped moving.

You’re going to fall over one of these days, Ava said, watching Aria restock the shelves. You’ve been working since six. That’s insane even for you.

Aria wiped her hands on a towel and shrugged. Rent doesn’t pay itself.

Ava frowned playfully. You say that like rent’s your boyfriend.

It’s more loyal than most men, Aria replied dryly, and Ava burst out laughing.

Behind them, Lorena appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray of pastries. Her dark hair was pinned neatly, and her smile was too perfect to be real. She placed the tray on the counter and gave Aria a look that was half teasing, half judgment.

You should take a break, Aria. You look like you haven’t slept in years.

Aria smirked. Says the girl who spends her nights with her phone under her pillow.

Lorena rolled her eyes, but her laugh softened the edge. They were a strange trio, bound together by years of friendship and shared survival. Ava was the heart, Lorena the mirror, and Aria the quiet spine that held them all up.

A customer called for a refill, and Aria went to pour another cup, humming under her breath. Her shift was supposed to end at noon, but the afternoon staff had called in sick, so she stayed. She always stayed.

Between customers, her phone buzzed. She wiped her hands and glanced at the screen. The name Sister Helena appeared, and a faint smile touched Aria’s lips before she answered.

Child, you sound tired again, Sister Helena’s voice said, warm and kind even through the static.

I’m fine, Sister. Just working a lot.

You’re always working. You need to rest sometimes. Your mother would scold me if she saw how hard you push yourself.

Aria’s voice softened. I just don’t like being idle. It makes me think too much.

There was a pause on the other end, the kind that carried understanding instead of words. Sister Helena had taken care of Aria after her mother died. The convent wasn’t her home, but it had been a place to heal.

I’ll be fine, Aria said after a moment. I promise.

You always say that, Sister Helena said with a sigh, but you never let anyone help you.

Aria smiled faintly. I help myself just fine.

She ended the call gently, slipped the phone back into her apron pocket, and went back to wiping tables.

Outside, the city buzzed with its usual rhythm. Cars honked, people hurried, and life moved on without asking anyone how they felt about it. Aria glanced out through the café window, watching the crowd move across the street. She found a strange kind of peace in observing people. Everyone had somewhere to be. Everyone had something they were chasing.

Around two in the afternoon, she finally untied her apron and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. The sun had shifted, leaving streaks of gold along the pavement. She leaned against the wall, taking a sip from her coffee cup.

Then she noticed the commotion.

Across the street, a man was being shoved by two others near the alley. It was quick and brutal, the kind of thing people pretended not to see. Aria froze for a second, her instinct warning her to stay out of it. But when the man stumbled and hit the ground, something inside her pushed her forward.

She crossed the road before she could talk herself out of it.

Hey, stop, she called, voice sharp and steady. Leave him alone.

The two men turned toward her, their expressions unreadable. One of them smirked, the other cursed under his breath before both took off running down the alley.

Aria rushed to the fallen man. He was older, maybe late twenties, dressed in black, his shirt torn and blood running from a cut on his arm. His eyes opened slowly, revealing a sharpness that didn’t match the helpless act.

You should have stayed inside, he muttered weakly.

You’re welcome, Aria said, kneeling beside him. Can you stand

He nodded, though the effort seemed to pain him. She slipped an arm under his shoulder and helped him to his feet. His weight was heavier than she expected, but she managed to guide him toward the café door.

You don’t have to help me, he said again, but she ignored him.

I already am. Sit down before you pass out.

She pushed open the café door with her hip and led him to a corner booth. Ava’s eyes widened when she saw the blood. Oh my god, Aria, what happened

Found him outside, Aria said, grabbing a first-aid kit from behind the counter. He got jumped.

Lorena appeared from the back, frowning. You’re not supposed to bring random strangers inside.

He’s hurt, Lorena, not contagious, Aria snapped, then knelt beside the man again. She cleaned the cut carefully, her hands steady, movements gentle but firm.

The man watched her closely, his gaze unreadable. There was something in his eyes that didn’t belong to an ordinary person. It was focus, the kind of sharpness that came from living a life where danger was familiar.

You handle blood well, he said quietly.

Aria didn’t look up. You’d be surprised what life teaches you when it doesn’t give you a choice.

When she finished, she straightened and crossed her arms. You should see a doctor.

He gave a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I’ll be fine.

Ava leaned in, whispering to Aria. He’s kind of hot for a guy who just got beat up.

Aria shot her a look, but a small laugh escaped her anyway. The man stood, testing his balance.

Thank you, he said simply.

You can thank me by not bleeding all over my floor, Aria replied.

He glanced at her name tag, then back at her. Aria.

She blinked. How did you—

Your tag, he said with a hint of amusement.

She looked down, realizing she had forgotten to remove it. Right. Well, take care of yourself, mystery man.

He nodded once and left quietly, disappearing into the crowd outside as if he had never been there.

Ava turned toward her with wide eyes. Okay, who do you think he was Because that did not feel like a regular guy getting mugged.

Aria shrugged, still looking at the door. Probably someone who got on the wrong side of the wrong people.

Lorena frowned. You shouldn’t have helped him. You don’t know what kind of trouble you might have brought here.

Aria sighed. Maybe. But I couldn’t just watch him get hurt.

She didn’t know that the man she had helped was one of Lucian Moretti’s closest men. She didn’t know that her name had already reached the ears of the Devil of New York.

As evening settled, she tied her apron again and went back to work. The café filled with new customers, music played softly from the old speaker, and the world kept spinning.

But somewhere in the city, a message was already being sent.

The girl from the café had been found.

And the storm that had been waiting in silence was about to begin.