The night air is thick with tension.
Juliet moves swiftly through the dimly lit alley, her leather boots soundless against the cobblestone. She shouldn't be here—not alone. But she's never been one to play it safe.
She checks her phone. No messages. No backup.
Damn it.
Her fingers tighten around the small pistol holstered under her coat. She's been tracking these men for weeks—Giovanni's men. Tonight, she finally has a lead.
A warehouse on the edge of the city. A meeting. A deal.
And possibly, a connection to Adonis De Luca.
She exhales, pressing her back against the cold stone wall. She doesn't trust him.
Not entirely.
Not yet.
But something tells her Adonis isn't the only player in this game.
And if she wants justice for her parents, she can't afford to be careful.
She peeks around the corner.
Two guards at the entrance. Armed.
She needs a distraction.
Juliet glances up. A rusted fire escape ladder looms above her.
She grips the cold metal and pulls herself up. Silent. Controlled. Years of training have made her body move like second nature.
She reaches the rooftop, crouching low as she moves toward the warehouse's skylight.
Inside, voices rise and fall.
She inches forward, peering through the glass.
A long table. Stacks of cash. Weapons. And three men.
Giorgio Giovanni sits at the head, his suit crisp, his expression unreadable.
Across from him, a man Juliet doesn't recognize—but his presence radiates power.
Between them, a briefcase.
Juliet's stomach tightens. This isn't just a business meeting. It's a war negotiation.
Then—
The warehouse door swings open.
Juliet stiffens.
A figure steps inside.
Tall. Commanding. Familiar.
Adonis.
Her breath catches.
What the hell is he doing here?
Inside the Warehouse
Adonis moves like he owns the room.
Because he does.
His suit is tailored to perfection, but his posture is relaxed—as if he has nothing to prove. A deliberate power move.
He doesn't sit.
Instead, he places both hands on the table, leaning in slightly as he speaks.
"I don't have all night, Giovanni."
The mafia boss smirks, swirling his glass of wine.
"Patience, ragazzo. These things take time."
Adonis clenches his jaw.
Giovanni is playing with him. Testing him.
But Adonis is not in the mood for games.
He flicks his gaze to the briefcase. "That's it?"
The man across from Giovanni chuckles. "Not much for pleasantries, are you, De Luca?"
Adonis doesn't even spare him a glance.
"I don't waste time," he says coldly.
Giovanni exhales, setting his glass down. "Fine." He pushes the briefcase toward him. "Consider this a sign of goodwill."
Adonis doesn't reach for it.
Instead, he lifts his gaze, meeting Giovanni's eyes. "Goodwill?" He scoffs. "After what you did?"
A tense silence.
Giovanni's smile fades. "That was business, ragazzo. Your father understood that."
Adonis' fingers curl into a fist.
Business.
That's what they called it when they had him locked away for ten years.
He forces himself to relax. Not here. Not now.
"I take it you need something from me," Adonis says smoothly.
Giovanni leans back, his smile returning. "Clever boy."
Adonis waits.
Then—
"We have a problem," Giovanni says. "A certain detective. Asking too many questions."
Adonis' heart slows.
Juliet.
He keeps his expression neutral. "And?"
Giovanni sips his wine. "And I want you to handle it."
Silence.
Adonis stares at him. Cold. Unblinking.
The room suddenly feels suffocating.
Handle it.
He knows exactly what that means.
Juliet Moretti is a threat.
And Giovanni wants her eliminated.
Adonis' jaw tightens.
He expected this. Prepared for it.
But the idea of silencing her—of erasing that fire in her eyes—doesn't sit right.
"Consider it done," Adonis says smoothly.
Giovanni nods, satisfied. "Good."
The deal is made.
But in Adonis' mind—it's already broken.
Because there's no way in hell he's letting anyone touch Juliet.
Not even himself.
Above the Warehouse
Juliet's pulse pounds.
She heard everything.
Adonis just agreed to kill her.
Her fingers tremble as she grips the cold metal railing. She was right not to trust him.
But… something doesn't add up.
His voice. His posture.
There was no malice. No real intent.
It was a performance.
Why?
Juliet exhales, backing away from the skylight.
She needs to get out of here. Fast.
Because if Adonis is playing a game—
She has to make sure she's the one who wins.