Emilia's POV

The office still smelled like my father-faint hints of cedarwood and expensive cologne lingering in the leather of his chair. The room felt colder, emptier, as if the walls themselves mourned his absence.

I sat behind his desk, flipping through contracts and financial reports, pretending to focus, but my mind was still tangled with Leo's visit. His name echoed in my head like a ticking clock-Leo. There was something about him, something off.

Claire walked in quietly, setting a cup of coffee beside me. "You know staring at papers isn't going to magically give you answers, right?"

I shot her a look. "Maybe not. But something's here. I can feel it."

Claire shrugged, sipping her own coffee, leaning against the doorframe. "Well, if your gut says something's off, maybe it is. What exactly are we looking for?"

I didn't answer because I wasn't sure myself. Proof? A thread to pull? Anything that could explain why my father was dragged into this mess-why Valeria was dragged into this mess.

My fingers brushed over a stack of neatly organized files. Typical Silas Hayes-methodical, meticulous. But something didn't add up. His records were too clean, too perfect. My father wasn't sloppy, but even the most organized men had notes scribbled in margins or files slightly out of place.

That's when I noticed it-a slight gap between the drawers of his desk, a hidden seam barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

Curiosity surged. I reached down, feeling along the edges until my fingers found a latch. With a soft click, a hidden compartment slid open.

Inside was a small, leather-bound notebook and a USB drive.

My heart thudded as I pulled them out.

Claire leaned in, eyebrows raised. "Well, well. What's behind door number one?"

I ignored her sarcasm, flipping open the notebook. My father's handwriting greeted me-sharp, precise, but hurried in places. Names, dates, shipment details. And one name repeated more than once:

Ignacio.

My breath caught.

Claire noticed. "What is it?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I plugged the USB into my laptop. A folder popped up instantly, no password, as if my father wanted it to be found-but only by the right person.

Inside were encrypted documents, scanned contracts, and surveillance photos. Pictures of men I didn't recognize... and one I did.

Salvador.

Standing beside Ignacio in what looked like a dockyard meeting. Their faces tense, serious. Not friendly.

Claire's jaw tightened as she leaned over my shoulder. "I thought your father and Salvador were partners. What the hell is this?"

I scrolled through more photos. Meeting after meeting. Some looked recent. Some weren't.

Then I found a video file.

With trembling fingers, I clicked play.

The grainy footage showed my father sitting in his office-this office. He was speaking directly to the camera, his voice low, steady.

"If you're watching this, it means something went wrong."

I froze.

Claire did too.

"Ignacio controls more than anyone knows. Ports, officials, law enforcement. He's been forcing Salvador and me to back out of key shipments-shipments he uses to smuggle weapons, drugs... things worse than that. When Salvador refused, Ignacio sank one of his cargo ships, left him in debt, and when that wasn't enough-" My father's voice faltered, just slightly, "-he had Julia killed."

Claire sucked in a sharp breath.

I felt like the air had been knocked from my lungs.

"I've tried to find a way out," my father continued. "But Ignacio has eyes everywhere. Even the police can't be trusted. That's why I kept this from you, Emilia. It wasn't to shut you out. It was to protect you."

My vision blurred with tears, but I forced myself to keep watching.

"If something happens to me, don't trust anyone. Not until you're sure. But if you're watching this, find Salvador. He'll know what to do."

The video ended.

The silence after the video ended was deafening. The faint hum of the laptop felt louder than my own heartbeat, which was thudding painfully against my chest. My father's face still lingered on the dark screen-his voice echoing in my mind like a ghost refusing to rest.

Claire didn't say anything. She didn't need to.

I slowly closed the laptop, staring at the faint reflection of my face in its glossy surface. I didn't recognize myself-eyes glassy, jaw clenched, hands trembling slightly.

"I thought..." My voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. I swallowed hard, trying to push back the lump in my throat. "I thought my father was involved in shady deals."

Claire stayed quiet, giving me space to untangle the words myself.

"I was mad at him," I continued, my voice growing steadier, fueled by the guilt clawing at my chest. "I thought he was some corrupt businessman, hiding secrets. I thought he was ashamed to face me because he knew I'd figured it out."

Claire finally moved, leaning against the desk, arms crossed. "And he never denied it?"

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "No. He didn't. And I took that as confirmation. Like... if he wasn't fighting to prove me wrong, it had to be true."

My hands gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white. The anger I'd carried for so long felt hollow now, replaced by something worse-regret.

"All this time," I whispered, my voice cracking, "he wasn't ashamed of what I thought. He was trying to protect me."

"He probably didn't think you would see this while he is still alive." Claire's eyes softened, but she didn't rush to comfort me. She knew me well enough to understand I didn't need empty reassurances.

I needed to sit with this.

To drown in it for a moment.

I wiped at my eyes, frustrated with the tears. "I wasted so much time being angry at him. I thought he was part of the problem. But he was fighting it the entire time."

Claire exhaled slowly, her usual sharp wit replaced with rare sincerity. "You didn't know, Emilia. You did what anyone would've done with the pieces you had."

I shook my head. "No. I should've looked deeper. I should've-" My voice broke again, the words catching in my throat.

Claire stepped closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. "You were his daughter, not his investigator. He didn't want you involved. That's why he kept it from you."

I stared at the closed laptop, my father's voice echoing in my mind: "It wasn't to shut you out. It was to protect you."

"But now I am involved," I whispered.

Claire gave me a small, grim smile. "Yeah. And your father left you the pieces to finish what he started."

I took a shaky breath, letting her words sink in.

I wasn't just grieving my father's death anymore.

I was grieving the time I wasted misunderstanding him.

But there was no going back.

Only forward.

I straightened, wiping my face with the sleeve of my shirt. "I need to see Salvador."

Claire nodded. "Then let's find him."

And for the first time in days, I felt something beneath the grief.

Purpose.

The conference room was suffocating.

Polished mahogany stretched out beneath perfectly stacked papers, glass water pitchers sweating under the harsh glow of the ceiling lights. The faint ticking of an expensive clock seemed louder than the voices echoing around the long table. Men in tailored suits and stiff smiles exchanged hollow pleasantries, their faces blurring together, none of them mattering except for one-Salvador.

He sat at the head of the table, his posture rigid but his face carved with the usual mask of authority. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was the most composed person in the room. But I knew better now.

I knew what was hiding behind those sharp eyes.

I kept my expression neutral, nodding when necessary, flipping through documents without reading a word. My mind was elsewhere-on the video, on my father's voice, on the man named Leo who'd casually slipped into my office like a shadow.

And Valeria.

Always Valeria.

Salvador's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Ms. Hayes, your signature here, please."

I blinked, realizing an agreement had been pushed toward me. I picked up the pen with steady hands, masking the storm brewing underneath, and signed with the flourish expected of me. A perfect little heiress, right?

As the meeting dragged on, my gaze flickered to Salvador more than once, trying to catch his eye without drawing attention. But he was careful, too. Never breaking the rhythm of the meeting, never slipping from his role.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the meeting adjourned. Chairs scraped against the floor, papers shuffled, polite goodbyes exchanged. The room thinned out slowly, painfully, until only a few stragglers remained.

Now.

I approached him casually, as if to discuss another document, my heart pounding against my ribs like it wanted to escape.

"Salvador," I murmured low enough for only him to hear. "I need to speak with you. Privately."

His eyes flicked to mine for a fraction of a second-sharp, calculating. Then he nodded curtly, his expression unchanged. "Of course. My office."

We walked out together, our pace measured, conversations happening around us as background noise. Once we were behind closed doors, he locked it without a word, turning to face me.

The mask dropped.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, his tone low but urgent.

I didn't waste time. "Leo. He came to see me."

Salvador's jaw clenched, the muscle twitching just beneath the surface. "What did he want?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. He claimed Claudia sent him, but something felt... off. I pretended not to know who she was."

His brow furrowed slightly, processing the information. But I wasn't done.

"I also found a video," I added, my voice quieter now. "From my father."

That made him pause.

"A video?"

I nodded. "He recorded it before the attack. He knew something was coming."

Salvador exhaled sharply, rubbing his jaw. "What did he say?"

I hesitated, the weight of my father's words still fresh, raw. "Enough to confirm what you've been hiding from me."

His eyes met mine-no denial, no excuses. Just a silent acknowledgment.

"I want the truth," I pressed. "No more pieces. No more half-answers."

Salvador studied me for a long moment before he finally spoke.

"You've always had more of your father in you than you realized."

That wasn't an answer.

"Don't do that," I snapped, my patience worn thin. "Don't talk around it. Tell me what's really going on."

He sighed, moving to pour himself a glass of whiskey, offering me one with a slight tilt of the bottle. I shook my head.

After a sip, he set the glass down and leaned against the desk.

"Ignacio," he said finally, his voice low. "Your father and I tried to back out of business with him. He didn't take it well. The attack on your father... that was his message."

I swallowed hard, my stomach knotting.

"And Leo?"

Salvador's expression darkened. "One of Dominic's men."

I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to scream.

"And Valeria?" I whispered.

Salvador's face softened slightly, just for a second. "I don't know where she stands with them anymore."

That hit harder than I expected.

"What do you mean?" My voice was sharper now, cutting through the space between us. "What do you mean you don't know?"

He hesitated, the first crack in his composure. "Claudia told me she's... spiraling."

I stepped closer, my heart pounding. "Spiraling how?"

Salvador looked away for a brief second, like the words were heavier than he wanted to admit. "She's slipping back into the person she was before you. The violence, the recklessness. Claudia thinks she's... lost."

"Lost?" My chest tightened. "She's not lost."

Salvador met my gaze again, his expression unreadable. "I'm not sure she's still on our side."

The words felt like a slap.

I shook my head, refusing to accept it. "She's on my side."

His silence said more than any argument could.

I pressed my palms against the edge of his desk, grounding myself, trying to keep my voice steady. "Why would Claudia tell you this?"

"Because she's worried. About Valeria. About all of this spiraling out of control."

I swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in my eyes. "If Valeria's spiraling, it's because of us. Because we left her out there, alone."

No. He was wrong. Valeria wasn't lost. She couldn't be.

I clenched my fists, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. "If Claudia knew Valeria wasn't okay... why didn't she tell me?"

Salvador didn't flinch at my tone. His calmness made me want to shake him. "Because she didn't think you could do anything about it."

I took a step closer, my chest tightening. "You're wrong. I can. I will."

He sighed, the weariness in his face betraying the strong facade. "Do you even understand how dangerous this is? Leo approached you. If Dominic's men are sniffing around, it's not by chance."

My heart raced, but I stood my ground. "I know exactly what he's after."

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the folder I'd been carrying like a phantom weight. My father's notes-documents filled with names, numbers, deals that could burn down empires.

I placed them on Salvador's desk with a thud, meeting his eyes. For the first time, I saw something flicker there-concern, maybe fear.

"Are you insane?" he hissed, snatching the folder and flipping through it. "You've been carrying this around like it's a grocery list?"

I didn't back down. "If they think my father's dead, Ignacio will try to clean up everything that could tie back to him. That's the only thing that makes sense."

Salvador's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

I took a deep breath, my pulse a steady drumbeat of defiance. "I'm saying we play the game."

His expression hardened. "Emilia, this isn't some photoshoot you can direct. This is real. They almost killed you. They almost killed your father. They did kill Julia."

His words hit like a punch to the chest.

I clenched my jaw, blinking back the sting in my eyes. "Don't you think I know that?"

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of Julia's name settling like ash between us.

"She was your best friend," he said quietly, his voice softer now, but still heavy with grief.

I nodded, my throat tight. "You raised me like your own. You were there when my mom left. You were there when Julia... when she was gone, and I disappeared on you."

Salvador didn't speak, but the pain etched in his features was enough.

I stepped closer, my voice trembling but fierce. "I still love you like a father. And I need to do this-not just for my dad, but for Julia. For you. For Valeria."

At her name, something shifted in him-a subtle, almost imperceptible change. But I caught it.

"I need your help," I whispered.

Salvador ran a hand over his face, his shoulders tense, the weight of everything we'd said pressing down like a boulder between us. His jaw clenched, lines carved deep from years of carrying burdens I'd only just begun to understand.

He finally broke the silence. "What do you have in mind?"

I took a deep breath, steadying the storm inside me. "Ignacio doesn't know exactly what my father had. That means we control the narrative-we control what to give them."

His sharp gaze met mine, his mind already piecing it together. "You want to bait them."

"Not just bait them," I corrected, leaning forward, my pulse pounding in my ears. "I want to manipulate them. Let them think they're pulling the strings when really-we are."

His fingers drummed against the table, the rhythm betraying his restless thoughts. After a beat, he nodded slowly. "They'll send someone for the documents."

I shook my head. "No. It has to be Valeria."

His hand froze mid-tap. His expression didn't shift much, but I saw it-the flicker of surprise in his eyes before it was buried under that steely mask.

"So, you want them to send Valeria to retrieve the documents," he said slowly, as if tasting the idea on his tongue. "That way, you can meet her without raising suspicion... and hand over false documents to lead them in the wrong direction."

"Exactly," I whispered, my heart pounding so hard it felt like my ribs would crack. "Just enough to keep them busy while we figure out how to use the real ones."

Salvador leaned back, studying me. There was a shadow in his gaze, something between worry and admiration. "And how do you plan to ensure they'll send Valeria?"

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "I don't know. That's up to you-or Claudia. But it has to be her."

He didn't respond right away. His eyes narrowed slightly, calculating, like he was weighing the risks against the inevitability. Then, he let out a breath and shook his head with a faint, dry chuckle-like he couldn't decide if I was brilliant or insane.

"Do you realize what you're asking for?" His voice was quieter now, less Salvador the strategist, more Salvador the man who once looked after me like his own.

"I do." My voice didn't waver.

He stared at me for another beat, then gave a slow, reluctant nod. "Alright," he said softly. "Let's play."

And just like that, the game was in motion.

Valeria's POV

The warehouse smelled of rust and gasoline-familiar scents, almost comforting if they didn't reek of everything I hated. Leo stood by the cracked window, cigarette dangling between his fingers, its embers glowing like a slow-burning fuse.

He didn't look at me when he spoke, his voice low and casual, like he was ordering coffee instead of someone's death.

"There's a document," he began, exhaling a plume of smoke. "We need it. It's in Hayes' house."

My pulse thudded at the mention of that name. I kept my face blank.

"What kind of document?" I asked, my tone flat, detached.

Leo shrugged, finally turning to face me, a small smirk playing on his lips like he enjoyed this too much. "Does it matter? Your job is to get it. And if anyone gets in your way-"

He made a casual finger gun gesture, aiming it at me before clicking his tongue like the trigger had been pulled.

Eliminate them.

I gave a small nod, keeping my expression neutral, but inside, something twisted. I knew exactly who might stand in my way.

Emilia.

I left the warehouse with the weight of those words sinking into my chest like stones in deep water. The drive back to Claudia's felt like a blur, headlights streaking past as if mocking how fast life could change.

Claudia's dim apartment. The single bulb overhead flickered like it couldn't decide whether to die or survive-just like me.

I stared at the gun sitting on the table, its metallic sheen reflecting the hollow spaces of my mind. My fingers moved before I could think, wrapping around the cold steel like it was part of me. It felt familiar. Too familiar.

I sat down heavily in the chair, the weight of exhaustion seeping into my bones. The barrel of the gun rested against my temple before I realized I'd even lifted it. The metal was cold-comfortingly so-pressing into my skin with a promise: one simple pull, and it's over.

No more running.

No more blood.

No more pretending I'm someone I'm not.

I closed my eyes, my finger grazing the trigger, the pressure delicate-almost tender. My heart was steady for once, the chaos quieting under the looming possibility of escape.

But then-her face.

Not a memory. Not a distant echo.

It was Emilia's face, clear and vivid in my mind, like she was standing right in front of me. The way her eyes softened when she laughed, the way she looked at me like I was something more than the sum of my broken parts. Her voice echoed in my head, soft and stubborn all at once.

"Stay, Valeria. Please."

My grip tightened, my finger trembling against the trigger. If I disappeared, she'd be safe. No more shadows creeping around her edges. No more bloodstains tied to my name in her world.

But then another thought crashed into me like a violent wave.

If I'm gone, who will protect her?

I pulled the gun away from my head so fast it nearly flew from my hands. My breath came out in ragged gasps, my chest heaving as if I'd been underwater too long.

Tears burned in my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. I never did.

Instead, I stared at the gun lying useless in my lap, the realization hitting me harder than any bullet ever could-I wasn't afraid of dying.

I was afraid of living without her.

I shoved the gun onto the floor, the metallic thud a pitiful sound against the roaring in my ears. My hands trembled as I pressed my palms into my face, trying to scrub away the darkness clawing at the edges of my mind.

There was no plan.

No way out.

Just this endless cycle of violence, betrayal, and loss.

And me-trapped in the middle.

A knock at the door snapped me out of the spiral. I didn't answer. Just stared at the door like it owed me an explanation for existing.

It creaked open anyway.

Claudia stepped inside, her sharp eyes taking in the scene-the discarded gun, my wrecked expression, the hollow in my chest I couldn't hide anymore.

She didn't say anything at first. Just leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, like she'd been expecting this.

After a long silence, she spoke, her voice low and gruff. "They sent the message. You're up tomorrow."

I didn't respond.

Couldn't.

She sighed, stepping closer, her boots echoing on the cracked floor. "Valeria," she said quietly, like she was trying not to scare me. "You're spiraling."

I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and empty. "No shit."

She glanced at the gun on the floor, then back at me. "Are you taking the easy way out?"

The question was blunt. No room for soft landings.

I shook my head.

She nodded once, like she expected that answer. "Why not?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing the words out. "Because who the fuck would protect her if I'm gone?"

Claudia didn't smile. Didn't smirk like she usually would.

She just crouched down in front of me, her eyes softer than I'd ever seen them. "Then you know what you have to do."

I laughed again, but this time it broke something inside me. "I don't know how to do this anymore."

She reached out, gripping my shoulder firmly. "You do. You've always known. You just forgot."

I stared at her, the tears finally slipping down my face without permission.

"Tomorrow," she repeated softly, standing up. "You survive. That's the job."

And she left.

Leaving me with nothing but the silence, the gun on the floor, and the unbearable weight of the one thing I couldn't escape-myself.

---

The night wrapped around me like a cloak, shadows stretching long and silent as I slipped through the perimeter of Emilia's house. The back entrance was easy-security systems were good, but I'd seen better. My hands worked on autopilot, muscle memory guiding me through locks and alarms, the faint click of disengaged mechanisms the only sound breaking the stillness.

Inside, the familiar scent hit me-faint traces of coffee, lavender, and something distinctly Emilia. It clawed at me, a cruel reminder of everything I'd left behind. But I didn't have time to drown in memories. I was here for one thing.

The office was the first place I went. Her desk sat by the large window, bathed in slivers of moonlight cutting through the blinds. I didn't bother being gentle. Drawers flew open, papers scattered like fallen leaves, contracts, sketches, receipts-useless. My pulse thundered in my ears, every heartbeat a ticking clock.

Where are they?

I moved faster, ripping through files, checking beneath the desk, pulling books from shelves, looking for anything that could hide what I needed. My breath grew ragged, the walls feeling like they were closing in. If I didn't find the documents... Leo wouldn't just question me. He'd come after her.

My jaw clenched, a sharp ache spreading to my temples. I couldn't let that happen. But the harder I searched, the more empty the room felt, like the answers were slipping through my fingers.

I paused, my chest heaving, palms flat on her desk. My reflection stared back at me from the dark glass of the window-haunted, hollow. I'd become a ghost in the life I wanted to protect.

A faint creak snapped me out of it.

I spun around, gun halfway raised before my brain caught up with my instincts.

Emilia stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame like she'd been expecting me. Her hair was tousled, eyes sharp, glinting with something between fury and heartbreak. The sight of her-alive, whole, here-hit me like a punch to the gut.

I lowered the gun slowly, my heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

"Looking for something?" Her voice was a soft drawl, deceptively calm, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the doorframe.

I didn't answer. What could I say? Yes, I'm here to steal from you. Yes, I'm here because if I don't, you'll die.

She pushed off the doorframe, stepping into the room, her gaze never leaving mine. The soft click of the door closing behind her felt louder than it should've.

"Well," she continued, her tone dripping with a false casualness, "if you needed office supplies, you could've just asked."

The corner of my mouth twitched, not with amusement but with disbelief. Even now, she had a way of cutting through me.

I tucked the gun back into my waistband, exhaling through my nose, trying to steady the storm inside.

"I didn't want to wake you," I replied, my voice rough, brittle.

She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Oh, don't worry. Breaking and entering is the least disturbing thing about tonight."

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words, with everything I'd buried since the last time I saw her.

Her eyes softened, just a fraction. "Valeria... what are you doing?"

The question hit harder than any bullet.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, looking away, focusing on the scattered papers instead of the ache in her voice.

"Doing what I have to," I muttered.

She stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like approaching a wild animal she didn't want to spook. "And what's that? Destroying yourself one mission at a time?"

Her words were knives, sharp and precise, digging into places I didn't want to feel.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. "I don't have a choice."

She stopped just a breath away, her presence suffocating in the best and worst way.

"There's always a choice," she whispered, her hand reaching out, hesitating, then resting gently over mine.

I stared at our hands-hers warm, grounding; mine cold, shaking.

God, I missed her.

But missing her didn't change the fact that I was poison. And getting too close would only kill us both.

I pulled my hand back, stepping away, shoving the emotions down where they couldn't choke me.

"I'm here for the documents, Emilia," I said, my voice like gravel. "Not for... this."

A flicker of pain crossed her face, quickly masked by defiance.

Emilia's POV

"What are you doing?" My voice trembled, not from fear, but frustration. The woman standing in front of me, with her gun trembling in her grip, wasn't the Valeria I knew. "Did you forget what we were supposed to be doing? We're supposed to find a way out. Why are you acting like this is your life now?"

Valeria's jaw clenched, her eyes dark and hollow, the weight of a thousand unspoken words pressing against her chest. "Because this is my life," she whispered, voice low, bitter, like the words themselves tasted like poison. "There's no way out. Not for me."

My heart twisted, but I didn't let the ache drown me. "But there is for me, right?" I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. "That's the plan, isn't it? You get buried deeper in this mess while I get to walk free."

Her fingers tightened around the gun, her knuckles white, but she didn't lift it. She didn't have to. The real weapon was the emptiness in her eyes.

"I don't want a way out without you," I whispered, stepping closer. She didn't move, didn't flinch, just stared past me like I wasn't even there. "If you gave up on us, I didn't."

She scoffed, a bitter, hollow sound. But I could see the cracks-behind the armor, behind the anger. The pain in her eyes wasn't just from what she'd done. It was from what she thought she'd lost.

I reached out, gently cupping her face, my thumb brushing over the scar near her jaw. She tensed, like my touch burned. "Did you forget about me?" My voice was softer now, trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. "Did you forget what we had?"

She couldn't look at me. Her eyes darted away, filled with something raw-fear. Regret. Maybe both.

"I did a lot of bad things," she whispered, her voice breaking at the edges like glass under pressure.

"I know," I said without hesitation. "And I'll get you out of this."

Her eyes snapped back to mine, filled with disbelief, like she wanted to believe me but didn't know how. "You coming here wasn't a coincidence, was it?" I whispered, suspicion and hope colliding in my voice. "What are you playing, Emilia? Are you... are you playing with Dominic again?"

"No," I said firmly, my hands still cradling her face. "We're going to play with Dominic."

She stared at me, her breath shallow, her pulse racing beneath my fingertips.

"I have a plan," I whispered. "I'm working with Salvador. We're going to give Dominic exactly what he wants-only it's not real. Just enough to keep him busy while we find a way out."

Her face twisted, a mix of fear and fury. "No," she snapped, pulling away. "This is too dangerous. You don't understand what he's capable of."

I stepped forward, closing the space she tried to create. "It's the only way, Valeria. The only way this nightmare ends. The only way you come back home."

Her body stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "I got no home."

I didn't give her time to let those words settle. I grabbed her face again, pulled her closer, and kissed her.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet. It was desperate-an anchor in the storm, a plea, a promise.

Her hands dropped the gun, falling to my waist, gripping me like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.

Valeria's POV

My hands found their way around Emilia's waist before I could stop myself, the feel of her warmth under my fingertips grounding me in ways nothing else ever could. I lifted her effortlessly, placing her near the edge of the desk, her breath hitching softly as our eyes met-just for a second, before need took over.

My lips crashed onto hers, raw and desperate, tasting the ache of days lost in shadows and silence. She responded immediately, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer like she needed me just as much. And maybe she did. Maybe that's what kept me from falling apart.

The way her soft moan vibrated against my lips, sending a shiver down my spine.

I deepened the kiss, my hands sliding up her sides, feeling every curve, every inch I'd missed more than I dared to admit. Her skin was warm beneath my touch, soft and real, a stark contrast to the cold steel I'd been holding onto just hours before.

Her fingers trailed down to the collar of my jacket, tugging it off my shoulders, her touch both gentle and demanding. I broke the kiss for a brief moment, our foreheads resting against each other, both of us breathless.

"Valeria," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly-not from fear, but from everything we weren't saying.

I cupped her face gently, brushing my thumb over her cheek, her skin soft under my calloused hands. "I missed you," I admitted, the words falling out before I could stop them.

Her eyes softened, tears threatening to spill, but she smiled instead, her hands sliding down to grip my wrists. "Then don't leave."

God, if only it were that simple.

I kissed her again, softer this time, like I was trying to memorize the shape of her lips, the taste of her. My hands slid to her lower back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between us.

But even as we lost ourselves in each other, the reality I'd been trying to outrun crept back in-Leo's orders, the documents, the darkness I'd dragged with me.

I pulled back slightly, resting my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling. "I don't want to hurt you," I whispered, my voice breaking with the weight of the truth.

"You won't," she replied without hesitation, her hands cradling my face, anchoring me. "Whatever this is, we'll figure it out. Together."

I wanted to believe her.

I kissed her again-because if this was all I had left, I was going to burn it into my memory, into my soul.

Her hands slid up, fingers threading into my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan against her mouth. The sound seemed to unravel her even more, her body pressing into mine, leaving no space between us. I felt the frantic beat of her heart through the thin fabric separating us, matching the wild rhythm of my own.

I gripped her waist, my fingers digging in like I needed to anchor myself. She was the only thing grounding me, the only thing that made sense in the chaos that was my life. My hands roamed upward, skimming the curve of her sides, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the thin material of her shirt.

She gasped softly when my thumb brushed the underside of her breast, her back arching instinctively into my touch. The sound shot straight through me, igniting something primal, something uncontrollable.

Her mouth left mine only to trail kisses along my jaw, down to the sensitive spot below my ear. My knees nearly buckled. I gripped the edge of her desk behind her, needing something to keep me steady.

"Val," she whispered, breathless, her lips ghosting over my neck. My name had never sounded like that before-fragile and sacred, like it meant something.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I grabbed her face, pulling her back to me, claiming her mouth with a hunger I didn't know I was capable of. She met me with the same intensity, her hands slipping beneath my shirt, fingers splaying across my stomach, sending shivers racing up my spine.

I didn't realize we were moving until I felt the desk press against the backs of her thighs. In one swift motion, I lifted her onto it, stepping between her legs. She hooked her ankles behind me, trapping me there, like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.

I wasn't going anywhere.

My lips found her collarbone, then lower, pushing the fabric aside to taste her skin. She let out a soft moan, her head falling back, giving me more. I was drunk on her, addicted to the way she responded to my touch, to the way her body molded perfectly against mine.

Her hands were everywhere-on my back, in my hair, tracing the scars that mapped my skin without hesitation or fear. It made something sharp and tender twist in my chest.

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, our foreheads pressed together, both of us gasping for breath.

Her eyes were dark, filled with something raw and unspoken. "Don't stop," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need.

My hands found the hem of her shirt, fingers trembling slightly as I pulled it over her head and tossed it onto the nearby chair. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. My breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, I hesitated, my hands falling from her waist as uncertainty crept in.

But she didn't give me the chance to pull away. She grabbed my hands, guiding them to her chest, her skin warm beneath my palms. With a swift tug of her legs around me, she pulled me closer, her lips crashing into mine, igniting the hunger between us all over again. Her hands roamed, finding the edge of my shirt and yanking it over my head, discarding it without care.

Her fingernails grazed down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake as she clutched me tighter, desperate, as if she needed me to anchor her to this moment. Then her hands slid lower, fingers tracing the waistband of my pants with agonizing precision until she found my belt. She undid it quickly, pushing my pants down just enough before her hand drifted upward, resting briefly against my collarbone.

My breath hitched mid-kiss, heart pounding as her fingers slipped past the waistband of my panties. She traced slow, deliberate circles, teasing me, before she dipped just the tip of her finger inside. The sudden rush of sensation made me clutch her shoulders, my knees weak, my mind hazy.

She sighed softly against my lips, a sound filled with longing, like she'd been waiting for this her entire life. I braced myself for more, for her next move-but she pulled her fingers away too soon. I barely had time to process the loss before she brought them to her mouth, sliding them between her lips with a soft moan.

"You taste better than I imagined," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper against my skin.

I tried to say something-anything-but the words tangled in my throat. She leaned in, her lips hovering just an inch from mine, her breath warm, her eyes dark with mischief.

"I wish you could stay the night," she whispered, her fingers trailing lazily down my chest, then lower, resting on my tense stomach. "But I know now... I'll be on your mind. You'll find your way back to me. You'll want to know just how good we could be together. Won't you, Val?" Her voice was low, teasing, laced with a confidence that sent shivers through me-a side of Emilia I never knew.

When I didn't respond, still breathless, she grabbed the waistband of my unbuttoned pants, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us, her half-naked body pressed against mine.

"Promise me," she whispered, her voice a velvet command.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. "I... I promise," I finally managed, breathless.

"Good," she purred, her lips curling into a satisfied smile before she kissed me one last time-deep, slow, and lingering. I could taste myself on her lips, a reminder of everything she'd just stolen from me-and everything I'd willingly give her again.