Chapter two - A Line in the Sand - Pricilla

A year ago, I would've sworn I had control over my life. Or at least the illusion of it. But the moment the Rosenthals crossed into our world, everything began to unravel.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring, the shrill tone breaking through the remnants of a restless sleep. Sunlight filtered through the heavy drapes in my bedroom, casting long shadows across the walls. Another day in the Moretti household, another day pretending I wasn't suffocating under the weight of expectations.

I pushed myself out of bed, the cold hardwood floor sending a jolt up my legs. My reflection in the mirror caught my attention as I moved toward my bathroom. Dark circles clung beneath my eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights that had become my norm. My jet-black hair was a mess, tangling around my shoulders like a storm. I tied it back with a band, splashing cold water on my face in an attempt to ground myself.

"Miss Pricilla," a voice called from outside my room. It was Martha, one of the few house staff who spoke to me like a person and not an extension of my father. "Your father requests your presence in the dining room."

Of course, he did. Salvatore Moretti didn't have "requests." He had commands.

"I'll be down soon," I replied, drying my face and heading to my closet. My wardrobe was a collection of carefully curated outfits chosen to project the image my father demanded: sharp, elegant, and untouchable. I pulled on a black blazer and matching pants, the tailored fit hugging me like armor.

The dining room was already alive with tension when I arrived. My father sat at the head of the long mahogany table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. His expression was unreadable, as always, but his eyes were sharp, watching my every move as I approached.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair beside him.

I took my seat, my back straight and my hands folded neatly in my lap. Across the table, my brother Adrian leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Unlike me, Adrian thrived in this life. He loved the chaos, the power, the games. I had no doubt he'd already been briefed on whatever this meeting was about.

"Adrian tells me you've been distracted lately," my father began, his tone even but edged with disapproval.

I shot a glare at Adrian, who only shrugged, his smirk widening. "I've been handling my responsibilities," I said, keeping my voice calm.

"Handling isn't enough," my father said, leaning forward. "The Rosenthals are testing us, and we can't afford any weaknesses. Do you understand what's at stake?"

"Yes," I replied, though the word tasted bitter on my tongue.

"Good," he said, his gaze piercing. "Because I'm assigning you a new task."

A task. My heart sank. His "tasks" were never simple.

"You'll be overseeing our operations in the northern district," he continued. "I want you to establish a stronger presence there and ensure everything runs smoothly. There's been some resistance from the locals, and I need you to handle it."

I clenched my jaw, nodding. "Understood."

"And," he added, his eyes narrowing, "keep an eye on the Rosenthals. They've been expanding their influence in that area, and I won't allow it."

There it was. The real reason he was sending me. He wanted me to play watchdog, to monitor our enemies and report back on their movements.

"Consider it done," I said, rising from my seat.

---

The northern district was a different world. It was gritty and chaotic, a stark contrast to the polished veneer of our family's main territory. The streets were lined with crumbling buildings, their faded facades a testament to years of neglect.

I arrived at one of our safehouses, a nondescript building tucked away in a quiet corner of the district. The interior was sparse but functional, a space designed for efficiency rather than comfort.

Luca, one of my father's most trusted men, greeted me as I entered. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark eyes sharp and calculating. "Miss Pricilla," he said, tilting his head. "We weren't expecting you today."

"Change of plans," I said, brushing past him. "Give me a status update."

He hesitated, glancing at the others in the room. I could feel their eyes on me, their doubt. They didn't trust me—not yet.

"We've had some pushback from a few local groups," Luca said finally. "Nothing we can't handle, but it's slowing us down."

"Define 'pushback,'" I said, folding my arms.

"Vandalism, theft, the usual," he replied. "They're trying to send a message."

"And what message are we sending back?" I asked, my tone icy.

Luca smirked, a glint of approval in his eyes. "We're handling it."

"Good," I said. "Keep me updated."

As I turned to leave, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, my stomach tightening at the sight of my father's name on the screen.

Be careful. The Rosenthals are watching.

I stared at the message for a long moment before slipping the phone back into my pocket. The weight of his warning settled over me like a heavy cloak.

The Rosenthals were always watching. Always waiting.

And I had no idea just how close they already were.

---

That night, as I sat alone in the safehouse, poring over reports and maps of the district, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen.

The air felt heavier, the silence too loud.

I didn't know it then, but my life was about to change forever.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the narrow hall, pulling me from my thoughts. My fingers hovered over the papers on the table, but my mind was elsewhere—on the message from my father, on the weight of the situation. I wasn't naïve enough to think it was just a simple turf war. The Rosenthals were playing a long game, and they were getting closer to us by the day.

The door creaked open, and Luca stepped inside. His face was tight, the usual calm demeanor replaced with something more urgent.

"Miss Pricilla, there's something you need to see."

I raised an eyebrow, pushing my chair back. "What is it?"

He didn't answer immediately, just turned and walked to the corner of the room, where a monitor was set up. The screen flickered to life, showing a live feed of the streets outside, the camera hidden in a nearby building. I watched, my heart skipping a beat, as a group of figures moved through the shadows.

"We've been keeping an eye on the Rosenthals," Luca said, his voice low. "And they've been making moves we didn't expect."

I squinted at the screen, watching as Anton Rosenthal's unmistakable figure appeared in the feed, flanked by his usual entourage. My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't expected him to be this far into our territory, not yet.

"What the hell is he doing here?" I muttered, my eyes fixed on him.

Luca's gaze was hard. "That's the problem. He's been on our turf more than once now. We think he's trying to make a statement."

My mind raced as I processed the information. Anton wasn't just playing the game; he was trying to take control, testing the boundaries of our power, testing me. I couldn't let that stand.

"We need to act," I said, already standing from the table, my fingers gripping the edge as if it would steady me.

Luca nodded, but there was hesitation in his eyes. "And what do you suggest we do, Miss Pricilla?"

I met his gaze, my voice steady, though the storm inside me was only growing stronger. "We send a message of our own."

---

The next few hours were a blur of movement and strategy. I couldn't afford to hesitate, not with Anton so close, so bold in his approach. The safehouse became a flurry of activity as we mobilized our men, prepping for whatever Anton might throw at us next. But I knew that wasn't enough.

Luca, his expression grim, handed me a black folder. I opened it to find maps of the district, notes on Rosenthal's operations, and a list of key locations they frequented. Anton wasn't just staying on the outskirts; he was encroaching deeper into our business, setting up shop where he shouldn't. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut: he wasn't just a rival anymore. He was a threat to everything we had built.

"We need to strike first," I said, my voice cold with determination.

"We've got men in position," Luca confirmed. "But Miss Pricilla—"

"What?" I snapped, already moving toward the door.

"There's talk about Anton coming to see you personally," he said quietly. "It's not certain, but it could be a message. A challenge."

The weight of his words landed heavy in the air. Anton wasn't just playing by the rules anymore. He was going after me—after my family—on a personal level.

"I'll handle it," I said, my words sharper than I intended. I didn't have time for hesitation, and I wouldn't let Anton dictate the terms of this war.

---

By the time night fell, the city was cloaked in darkness, the kind that made it easier to hide your intentions. But I wasn't hiding. I wasn't running. I stood on the balcony of the safehouse, overlooking the streets below, my thoughts swirling with everything that had transpired in the past few hours.

Luca and the others were out in the field, waiting for the right moment to act. But I knew something was coming—something bigger than the small skirmishes we'd been dealing with.

And then, there he was.

Anton Rosenthal.

He appeared out of the shadows like a ghost, his figure tall and imposing even from this distance. He stood just outside our perimeter, a lone figure in the dark, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. He was waiting for me.

I couldn't just watch. I couldn't just wait for him to make his move.

I was the one who needed to act.

Without hesitation, I moved toward the door, my mind set. I wasn't about to be intimidated. Not by him, not by anyone.

The cool night air hit my skin as I stepped outside, my heels clicking against the pavement with every deliberate step I took toward Anton.

When I reached him, I stopped just a few feet away, close enough to feel the weight of his gaze but far enough to keep my space.

He didn't say anything at first, just stood there, looking down at me with those sharp, grey eyes that seemed to pierce through me.

"You don't waste time, do you?" I said, my voice steady, despite the undercurrent of tension I could feel pulsing between us.

Anton tilted his head slightly, the faintest of smirks playing on his lips. "Time is a luxury we can't afford, Pricilla."

I matched his smirk, my own eyes narrowing. "Then why are you here?"

"I came to see you," he said, his voice low and smooth. "It seems we have a lot more in common than you'd like to admit."

His words, calm and measured, only served to infuriate me more. We had nothing in common. He was my enemy—nothing more.

But as he stood there, looking at me with that same quiet intensity, I knew this wasn't just a chance encounter. This was the beginning of something much darker, something neither of us could walk away from.

And I was already too far in to turn back.

His words hung in the air, thick with meaning. I could feel the challenge in them, the silent implication that we were both caught in a game neither of us could fully control. My fists clenched at my sides, but I held my ground.

"We have nothing in common, Anton," I said, my voice icy, but underneath, there was a flicker of something else—something I refused to acknowledge. "You're an enemy. And that's all you will ever be."

Anton took a step forward, his tall frame looming over me, his eyes unwavering. There was no aggression in his posture, no obvious threat—but I could feel it. His presence was enough to make the air feel heavier, charged with a tension I couldn't ignore.

"You say that now," he murmured, his voice a smooth baritone, "but we're both part of this world, Pricilla. We both understand how it works. The power plays, the lies, the manipulation. The game."

I refused to let him get under my skin, but every word he spoke was a reminder that he was right. There was no escaping this life, no running from the people who controlled it. And Anton—whether I liked it or not—was a part of that.

"You're wrong," I said firmly, my gaze locked on his. "I don't play your game. I play on my own."

A small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of Anton's mouth. He took another step closer, his breath warm against the cool night air.

"Your own?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Tell me, Pricilla, how long do you think you can keep playing it alone?"

The question lingered between us, cutting through the silence. It wasn't a threat, but it wasn't a question I could easily brush off either. Anton was testing me, probing for weakness, and I hated that he was so good at it.

I squared my shoulders, forcing myself to meet his gaze without faltering. "I don't need anyone. Not you, not anyone."

"Is that so?" Anton asked, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous tone. He was closer now, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the dark, magnetic pull of his presence seemed to draw me in despite myself.

I stood my ground, but inside, something stirred. I shoved it down—pushed it into the depths of my mind where I wouldn't have to deal with it. This was war. There was no place for distractions.

"You're wasting your time, Anton," I said, voice steady despite the tension coiling in my gut. "Go back to your family. Tell them I'm not afraid of you."

Anton's gaze darkened, the edges of his lips curling into a smile that was far from reassuring. "You say that now, but we both know fear is a luxury. Sooner or later, you'll realize that you can't keep running from the inevitable."

I didn't respond. I didn't need to. The truth in his words stung, but I refused to let it show. Instead, I turned, making my way back toward the safehouse, my steps deliberate, my heart pounding in my chest.

But Anton didn't follow. He remained where he was, watching me with that same, unsettling calm. I could feel his eyes on my back, the weight of his gaze following me until I was out of sight.

As I stepped inside, the door shutting quietly behind me, I leaned against the cool wood, trying to steady my breath.

Luca was waiting inside, his eyes narrowed, his expression questioning.

"Did you speak to him?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, pushing away from the door. "I did. And I'm not sure where it goes from here."

Luca's gaze flickered with concern, but he didn't press further. "You need to be careful, Miss Pricilla. The Rosenthals won't back down."

I didn't need his warning. I already knew that. But what I didn't know—what I couldn't understand—was why, despite everything, Anton's presence had unsettled me so much.

As the hours passed, I tried to focus on the task at hand—gathering information, making sure the safehouse was secure. But no matter how much I tried to distract myself, my mind kept returning to Anton.

The way his words had slipped under my armor. The way his eyes had held mine.

And the way he made me feel like I was caught between two worlds—the one I knew, and the one he was trying to pull me into.

I didn't know what it meant. I didn't know what any of it meant. But I couldn't deny that something was shifting. And as much as I hated to admit it, I had no idea how long I could keep pretending I wasn't caught in the same game as Anton Rosenthal.

And that scared me more than I was willing to admit.