Chapter 4

A Line Crossed

The scent of gunpowder lingered in the air, thick and inescapable.

Elena didn't move.

Matteo's body slumped forward, a dark stain spreading across his shirt, his last breath vanishing into nothing. Silence pressed in, heavy, suffocating.

She had done it.

She had spoken the words that had sealed his fate.

And yet, she felt nothing.

No relief. No triumph. No guilt.

Just... emptiness.

Luca watched her, his silver eyes unreadable. He had pulled the trigger without hesitation, as if Matteo had never been anything more than a name on a list.

"Take care of it," he said to his men, voice calm as ever.

They moved swiftly, dragging Matteo's body away like it was just another part of their job. Maybe it was. Maybe death was nothing more than paperwork in their world.

Elena's fingers curled into fists.

Their world.

Was it hers now, too?

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to meet Luca's gaze. "That was fast."

He tilted his head. "Did you expect me to hesitate?"

She studied him, searching for a crack in his icy exterior. "Most people would."

"I'm not most people."

No, he wasn't.

Luca DeLuca was ruthless, unreadable, and completely unshaken by the life he had just taken.

Elena had grown up around killers, men who solved their problems with bullets instead of words, but she had never been one of them.

Not until now.

Her hands weren't stained with blood, but they might as well have been.

She had made the choice.

And there was no undoing it.

Luca watched her closely, as if waiting for something, Regret or a breakdown. Some sign that she wasn't built for this life.

But she refused to give him that satisfaction.

So she straightened her spine, swallowed down the nausea curling in her stomach, and met his gaze with unwavering calm. "What now?"

A flicker of something, approval? Amusement? flashed in his eyes, gone before she could be sure.

"Now," he said smoothly, "we need to find out who hired him."

Elena stiffened.

Matteo hadn't worked alone, that much was clear. Someone had paid him to betray the Riccis, to orchestrate the hit that had killed her father.

And that meant someone out there was still pulling the strings.

Her pulse quickened. "You think there is more to this?"

Luca's expression hardened. "There's always more."

She knew he was right. In the mafia, nothing happened without a reason. Power plays were made in shadows, betrayals masked as alliances.

Elena had spent her whole life learning how the game was played.

And now, she was right in the middle of it, whether she likes it or not.

Luca turned toward the bar cart in the corner, pouring himself a drink. The crystal clinked softly as he swirled the dark liquid before taking a slow sip.

"You did well," he said, voice unreadable.

Elena's stomach twisted.

Did well.

As if this was some kind of test.

As if watching a man she had known her whole life die in front of her was something to be graded or happy about.

She swallowed back the bitter taste in her mouth. "I didn't do it for you."

Luca smirked. "I know."

The way he said it sent an uneasy shiver down her spine.

Before she could respond, the elevator doors slid open again, and a man in a dark suit stepped in.

"Boss," he said, giving a short nod. "We have something."

Luca set down his drink. "Talk."

The man glanced at Elena, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

Luca didn't look away from her. "She stays."

Elena raised a brow. "I don't need your permission."

Luca's lips twitched, but he said nothing.

The man cleared his throat. "We traced Matteo's last communications. He was in contact with someone before the wedding. Someone outside both families."

Elena frowned. "Who?"

The man hesitated. "We're still digging, but the number was connected to an offshore account—one with ties to an international syndicate."

Elena's breath caught.

An outside player.

This wasn't just a war between the Riccis and the DeLucas.

This was bigger than she could imagine. 

Luca's expression didn't change, but his grip on the glass tightened slightly. "How long do you need?"

"Give us twenty-four hours."

Luca nodded. "Find out who they are. And when you do..."

His voice was calm, but there was something deadly beneath it.

The man nodded once, then disappeared back into the elevator.

Elena exhaled slowly.

An international syndicate.

This was no longer about a mafia truce.

This was about something else entirely.

And if someone had gone to these lengths to take Luca out, it meant one thing.

He was dangerous enough to be a threat.

She turned to him, studying him carefully. "Who the hell are you really, Luca?"

His silver eyes gleamed with something dark.

"The man you just tied your fate to."

Her stomach twisted.

She should have been afraid.

But the most terrifying part?

She wasn't.

She wasn't afraid of Luca.

She was afraid of what that meant.

Of what it said about her.

Because somewhere deep inside her, beneath the grief and anger and thirst for vengeance—

A part of her liked this.

Like the power, control and respect.

Liked the way Luca had looked at her when she made the call on Matteo's life.

And that scared her more than anything else.