The morning after Derek's confession dawned gray and heavy, like the sky itself was holding its breath.
I didn't sleep.
Not even for a second.
My thoughts were a tangled web—memories of my father, Derek's words, and the face of a man I didn't know but had every reason to fear: Rafael Montaro.
I stared out the window of the bedroom, which felt less and less like a prison and more like a war shelter. Beneath the silence, I could feel it—something was coming. Something dark.
A knock came at the door.
I didn't turn. "Come in."
Derek entered, a little slower than usual. He was always composed, always in control—but not today. Today, he looked like a man weighed down by ghosts.
"You didn't sleep," he said softly.
"No."
"I'm not surprised."
I finally turned to face him. "Tell me everything you know about Montaro."
He paused. "Elena, this isn't—"
"No more secrets," I interrupted. "You promised."
He nodded slowly and walked to the armchair in the corner. For once, he didn't tower over me like a shadow. He sat, rested his elbows on his knees, and looked up.
"Rafael Montaro used to be my father's closest associate," he began. "They built an empire together—black-market trades, offshore accounts, blood money."
I stayed silent.
"But power corrupts. And Montaro wanted more. When my father refused to hand over one of our key territories in Italy, Montaro retaliated by leaking intel to the DEA."
"And your father?" I asked.
"Killed him," Derek said bluntly. "Made it look like a cartel hit. After that, Montaro vanished. Went underground, started rebuilding from the shadows. And when I took over the Moretti syndicate, I made it my mission to hunt him down."
He leaned back, eyes dark.
"That's when your father came into the picture."
I stiffened.
"He tried to cut a deal with Montaro behind my back. Promised him access to a safe house network in exchange for immunity. He was desperate to protect you."
I swallowed hard. "So what happened?"
"He disappeared. No one has seen him since. Some say Montaro killed him. Others say your father went into hiding, fearing what both of us might do to him."
I looked away, my throat tightening. "And you took me because…?"
"Because I couldn't afford for Montaro to find you first," he said. "Because despite everything, I didn't want you to end up as collateral damage."
I paced the room, emotions ricocheting off the walls of my mind.
"And now?" I asked. "What happens to me now?"
Derek stood slowly. "Now, we prepare."
---
Later that day, I wandered the mansion halls. Every inch of the place reeked of power and wealth, but I was searching for something else—answers.
I found Nico, one of Derek's most trusted men, smoking near the staircase.
"Hey," I called.
He raised a brow. "You're not supposed to be wandering alone."
"Then maybe you should stop me."
He smirked, tossing the cigarette. "Trouble follows you, huh?"
"Only when Derek's around."
That made him laugh.
I leaned closer. "Do you know anything about Montaro?"
Nico's face stiffened. "Why?"
"Because I want to know what we're up against. And Derek… he only tells me what he thinks I need to hear."
He studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded for me to follow.
---
Nico led me to a basement room I hadn't seen before. Not a dungeon, not a wine cellar—but something worse.
A surveillance room.
Screens lit up the walls—security feeds, digital maps, camera footage from outside the mansion, and images of people I didn't recognize.
One feed zoomed in on a café in downtown Naples.
"Montaro's men have been seen here twice in the last week," Nico said. "He's watching. Waiting."
A cold chill swept over me.
"And me?" I asked. "Is he watching me?"
Nico hesitated. "Derek doesn't want to scare you, but… yes. There was a tracker on your purse when you first arrived. We didn't catch it until the second week."
My breath caught.
"He was that close?"
Nico nodded. "You're not just a bargaining chip, Elena. You're a message. If Montaro gets his hands on you, he won't just kill you. He'll make sure Derek suffers first."
The room seemed to spin around me.
Everything I thought I knew was shifting again. I wasn't a hostage—I was bait in a game far deadlier than I imagined.
---
That night, I confronted Derek again.
"You should've told me everything," I said, storming into his office.
He didn't look surprised to see me.
"I figured Nico would talk," he said.
"You're preparing for war, and I'm still being kept like a fragile vase in a glass cage."
"I'm protecting you."
"No, you're isolating me. I want to help."
Derek stood. "Help? Elena, you're not a soldier."
"No. But I'm the target. And maybe it's time I stopped pretending to be the victim."
His eyes darkened with something unreadable. Pride? Fear? Lust? Maybe all of them at once.
"You're bold, I'll give you that," he murmured.
"Then let me be useful."
He walked over to me slowly, each step controlled. Calculated.
"What do you propose?"
I took a deep breath. "Let me be bait. Lure Montaro out."
Derek's jaw tensed. "Absolutely not."
"Why not? I can be wired, watched. You said it yourself—he wants me. So give him what he wants."
"No."
I stepped closer. "Why? Because you care?"
He growled, low and frustrated. "Because if something happened to you, I wouldn't survive it."
My breath hitched.
The words hung in the air between us, heavier than anything he'd ever said before.
He reached for my hand, his fingers brushing mine with a gentleness that burned more than his anger ever could.
"Elena," he said, voice low, "I'm not a good man. But I'll burn this world to the ground before I let him touch you."
Silence.
Then, almost brokenly, I whispered, "Then let me fight with you."
---
That night, for the first time, he didn't leave.
He stayed in the room—not touching, not speaking—just present.
The silence between us wasn't empty anymore.
It was heavy with understanding.
And maybe… the start of something deeper.
Not love.
Not yet.
But a dangerous, fragile alliance between a devil and the woman who dared to challenge him.