Ghosts of the Past

Silence stretched between Luca and Evelyn, thick with unspoken fears. The name Valerio wasn't just a ghost—it was a storm.

Luca turned away from the ocean, his jaw tight. "That's not possible." His voice was firm, but deep inside, something twisted painfully.

"I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't," Dante shot back. "He's alive, Luca. And he's looking for you."

Evelyn took a sharp breath. "Tell me this is some mistake."

Luca wished he could.

Dante continued, his voice urgent. "Meet me at the old docks. Midnight. Come alone."

The call ended before Luca could argue.

Evelyn reached for him, her fingers pressing into his wrist. "Don't do this."

"I don't have a choice."

She let out a sharp breath, stepping back. "There's always a choice, Luca. And you keep choosing the part of your life that will destroy you."

Luca ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Eve, this isn't just about me. If Valerio is alive, we are both in danger."

She crossed her arms, her jaw tight. "Then let's face it together."

He hated this—the way she looked at him, as if she already knew he would push her away.

"I need to do this alone."

Her expression hardened. "And if you don't come back?"

Luca exhaled. "Then you get on that plane tomorrow. You go to Paris. You forget about me."

Evelyn's lips parted in disbelief, hurt flashing in her eyes. "You still think I could ever forget you?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

Instead, he pulled her close, kissing her like it was the last time—because it might be.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.