Chapter 5: The first Strike

The wind at the docks carried the scent of salt, oil, and danger.

Perched high on a shipping container, Isabella Rossi adjusted her rifle's scope, her breath steady despite the storm raging inside her.

Below her, Moretti men moved like a well-oiled machine, overseeing the shipment—guns, drugs, power, all flowing through their hands like currency.

And in the middle of it all stood Luca Moretti.

Tall. Commanding. Untouchable.

Her stomach twisted.

She had lined up shots before—eliminated threats without hesitation.

But this?

This wasn't just about business.

This was Luca.

The boy she had once trusted.

The man she now had to kill.

She exhaled.

"You hesitate, you die."

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

Burning with the anger of betrayal, she fired.

Isabella Rossii would get revenge.

The bullet tore through the night, splintering through a wooden crate near Luca's feet.

For a second, the docks fell silent.

Then—chaos.

Gunfire erupted as Moretti men scrambled for cover, shouting commands into radios. Luca didn't move immediately.

Instead, his sharp eyes scanned the rooftops.

And that's when he saw her.

A shadow against the city lights.

A ghost from his past.

Isabella.

His breath hitched.

Their eyes met, even across the battlefield.

And in that moment, everything else faded.

Then, just as quickly—she vanished into the night.

Luca didn't chase her.

He couldn't.

Luca sat in his penthouse, staring at the cut on his hand—a shallow wound from the night's chaos.

He should've been angry.

He should've been hunting her down right now.

Instead, he poured himself a drink and sank into his chair.

Isabella had fired first.

That meant she had chosen war.

That meant there was no going back.

And yet—

She hadn't aimed to kill.

A warning shot? A challenge?

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"You can't hesitate, Luca."

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Isabella moved swiftly through the city's backstreets, slipping into a safe house she hadn't used in years.

She should've felt victorious.She had struck first.

But all she felt was exhaustion.

She didn't get a chance to breathe before a voice spoke from the darkness.

"You think you can kill Moretti before he kills you?"

Her gun was out in seconds, aimed at the man leaning against the doorway.

Dark suit. Cold eyes. A presence that screamed power.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

The man smirked. "Not your enemy. Not yet."

He stepped forward, unafraid of her weapon.

"But if you think Luca Moretti is your biggest problem, you're not as smart as they say."

Her pulse spiked.

"Who are you working for?"

The man tilted his head. "The people who want you both dead."