Valeria's POV

The apartment was quiet, the weight of everything settling over me like a thick fog. I sat at the table, fingers absentmindedly tapping against the surface, my mind still replaying my conversation with Emilia.

Everything was set in motion, but if we didn't move fast enough, it could all fall apart.

The sharp buzz of my phone against the wood made me jolt slightly. Juan.

I exchanged a look with Claudia before answering. "Talk to me."

Juan's voice came through, low and urgent. "Something's up with Dominic. He's acting different."

I immediately straightened, every muscle in my body going tense. "Different how?"

"He's doubling his security. Making moves without telling the usual people," Juan said. "And he's sending his most trusted men out on investigations. Whatever this is, he's keeping it real quiet—only a handful of people know what he's looking for."

I frowned, my grip on the phone tightening. "What's he investigating?"

A pause. Juan exhaled. "I don't know. He's only talking to his inner circle. The ones who have been with him since the beginning. He's paranoid about something, and when Dominic gets paranoid, people die."

I ran a hand through my hair, my mind already spinning through the possibilities. If Dominic was digging, he was looking for proof. Proof that Ignacio was betraying him.

Which meant we needed to get ahead of him.

"Juan," I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. "You need to find a way to get Dominic to bring me in on these investigations."

Juan hesitated. "That's not going to be easy. If he's keeping this tight, he won't just bring you in out of nowhere."

"Then give him a reason," I said sharply. "Make him believe I can help. That I have connections or information that he needs. I just need one chance to push him over the edge. That's all."

Juan sighed, and I could hear the doubt in his breath. "If this backfires—"

"It won't," I cut him off. "Just do it."

Another pause. Then, finally, Juan exhaled. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. Stay low until then."

The line went dead.

I set the phone down, staring at it for a moment before leaning back in my chair. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, the weight of this decision crushing—but we didn't have a choice.

Claudia watched me, her arms crossed. "You sure about this?"

I let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling. "If Dominic finds out the truth before we turn him on Ignacio, we're dead."

She nodded slowly, but her expression stayed cautious. "Then let's hope Juan is as good at pulling strings as he thinks he is."

I didn't answer.

Because I wasn't hoping.

I was counting on it.

Emilia's POV

The house was quieter than usual. The weight of everything settled around me, pressing into my chest like an invisible force I couldn't shake.

I stood by the window, staring out at the dimming sky, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of my glass. I had barely touched my drink. My mind was elsewhere—stuck in a loop, replaying everything that had happened.

I didn't turn when I heard the footsteps behind me. I knew who it was before she spoke.

"So," Claire's voice was light, but I could hear the edge beneath it. "You wanna talk about it, or should I just start guessing?"

I exhaled softly, setting my glass down before finally turning to face her. She was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, her gaze sharper than usual.

"Talk about what?" I asked, my voice calmer than I felt.

Claire raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe about how Valeria was in your bedroom an hour ago and now you look like you're about to have a heart attack?"

I stiffened for half a second before forcing myself to relax. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Claire scoffed. "Please. You're looking out the window like you expect her to walk back in any second. And, honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if she did. You two have a weird, tragic rhythm going on."

I let out a dry chuckle, shaking my head. "It's not like that."

Claire gave me a look. "Isn't it?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples before glancing around the room, making sure no one else was nearby. When I was sure we were alone, I finally spoke.

"It's... complicated," I admitted, my voice quieter now.

Claire snorted. "No shit. Look, I get that you don't like to talk about your feelings, but I think I deserve a little honesty here. You've been going through hell these past few weeks, and now she's back. How do you feel about that?"

I swallowed, my throat tight. The words sat heavy on my tongue, too raw, too dangerous to admit out loud.

How did I feel?

Like I could finally breathe. Like the missing part of me had walked right back into my life, and I wasn't sure if I could handle it.

Like I loved her.

I looked away, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need this to be over."

Claire's teasing demeanor softened slightly. "Emilia."

I exhaled, closing my eyes for a moment. "I love her, Claire." The confession came out rough, almost painful. "I never stopped. And seeing her again, being near her again—" I shook my head, my fingers curling into fists. "It just reminds me how much I need this to end. So we can stop running. So I can stop being afraid of losing her."

Claire didn't say anything for a moment. Then, her voice was quieter, softer than I was used to. "You really think this is gonna end?"

I looked at her, my chest aching. "It has to."

She studied me, something unreadable passing through her expression before she sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You know, for someone who acts like they have everything under control, you're a complete mess when it comes to her."

A small, tired smile tugged at my lips. "Tell me something I don't know."

Claire huffed a laugh before shaking her head. "Alright. I won't push you anymore. But just... don't get reckless, okay? You need to keep your head straight if you want to survive this."

I nodded slowly, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep pretending that I wasn't already too far gone when it came to Valeria.

Because I had never stopped loving her. And I never would.

Valeria's POV

The wait was the worst part.

Days had passed since my last conversation with Juan, and I was still stuck in limbo, waiting for a sign that the plan was moving forward. That Dominic had taken the bait. That my time was coming.

I hated waiting.

I sat on the edge of the couch, leg bouncing as I stared at the phone on the table like I could will it to ring.

Nothing.

Claudia walked in, shutting the door behind her with more force than necessary. "You're gonna drive yourself insane if you keep that up."

I barely glanced at her. "Any news?"

She tossed her bag onto the chair, exhaling as she leaned against the wall. "Juan did what he was supposed to. Dominic will call you in, and now we just wait for Leo to make the call."

I nodded, but it didn't ease the pressure sitting on my chest.

Claudia watched me carefully before crossing her arms. "What's the plan for when Dominic calls you in?"

I dragged a hand through my hair, letting out a slow breath. "I don't know."

Claudia's brows furrowed. "Not exactly comforting."

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter what I plan. The moment I step into that room, I won't know what he's thinking, what he's already figured out. Whatever happens, I have to read him, stay ahead of him, and do whatever it takes to make him believe."

Claudia exhaled through her nose, clearly unhappy with that answer. "And if he doesn't?"

I looked at her then, something cold settling in my gut. "Then I don't walk out of that room."

The silence stretched between us.

Claudia's jaw tensed, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to argue, to tell me this was too dangerous, that we should rethink everything.

But she didn't. Because she knew.

This was the only way.

Finally, she sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "You better be ready."

I gave her a small, humorless smirk. "I'm always ready."

I wasn't. Not really. But I had no choice.

I will be ready to face whatever Dominic threw at me. Or die trying.

I had forced myself to sit still, to act like I wasn't on edge, but every second that passed felt like a slow countdown to something I couldn't control.

Then my phone rang.

I didn't hesitate. I grabbed it, barely glancing at the screen before answering.

"Valeria."

Leo's voice was as sharp as ever, clipped and to the point.

I leaned back against the couch, forcing myself to sound casual. "Didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

"You're needed," he said, not bothering with small talk. "Tomorrow night. Warehouse. Nine sharp."

I let a beat of silence stretch between us, like I was considering it, even though I already knew I didn't have a choice.

"For what?" I asked, keeping my voice even.

"Don't ask too many questions," Leo replied, unimpressed. "Just be there. Nine PM."

I exhaled through my nose, tilting my head slightly. "Should I dress all nice?"

"Then maybe you should start trusting Dominic," Leo said flatly. "Come on time. That's all you need to know."

The line went dead. I stared at my phone for a second before setting it down.

Claudia, who had been sitting across from me, leaned forward. "That was fast."

I nodded slowly. "Tomorrow. Nine. Warehouse."

She studied me. "Do you think it's the job you need?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But whatever it is, I'm about to find out."

I sat in silence long after Leo hung up, the weight of his words settling over me like a slow-building storm.

I didn't need to hear the details to know what this meant.

This wasn't just another job. This was Dominic testing me. A mission that could either cement my place in his trust or get me killed.

I exhaled, rubbing a hand over my face. My instincts were already screaming, warning me that I was walking into something I might not walk out of.

And yet, I had already made my decision.

I would go.

I would do whatever it took to make Dominic believe the plan.

But before that—before tomorrow—I needed something else.

I needed her.

I glanced at the clock. Almost midnight.

Claudia, who had been watching me carefully, raised an eyebrow. "You look like you've already made peace with dying."

I scoffed, pushing up from the couch. "Not yet."

She frowned. "Where are you going?"

I grabbed my jacket, slipping it on as I headed for the door. "I'll be back later."

"Valeria—"

But I was already gone.

The drive was slow, careful. I took every precaution, doubling back twice, making sure I wasn't being followed. By the time I reached Emilia's house, the night had stretched into something quiet and still.

I parked a few blocks away, moving through the shadows with practiced ease. The estate was locked down, but I had been here enough times to know exactly how to get in unnoticed.

I slipped through the garden, moving to the side of the house where the servants' wing was, and climbed up to the second floor. A window—one I knew would be unlocked—let me in.

I barely made a sound as I landed inside.

The house was silent.

I moved through the hallways like a ghost, my body remembering the way even as my mind wandered.

By the time I reached Emilia's room, my heart was hammering in my chest for a reason that had nothing to do with being caught.

I pushed the door open gently, stepping inside.

She was there, curled up under the blankets, her breathing slow and steady. The soft glow from the moon slipped through the curtains, casting pale silver light over her.

I didn't move.

I just stood there, watching her, something deep in my chest tightening painfully.

For a second, I let myself forget the danger waiting for me tomorrow.

For a second, I let myself imagine that this was all there was—this quiet, this warmth, this sense of belonging I could never seem to grasp anywhere else.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, her face peaceful, completely unaware that I was standing there, looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Because she was. I was risking everything for her. And I would do it again. Over and over. Without hesitation.

I didn't realize how much I needed this moment until I was already here.

Sitting beside her, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, hearing the soft breaths slipping past her parted lips—this was the only place I felt like I could breathe.

I reached out without thinking, my fingers brushing against her hand. Even in sleep, she was warm, soft in a way that made something ache deep in my chest.

I brought her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss into her palm, letting it linger.

She stirred, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened slowly, still heavy with sleep, and for a moment, she just looked at me, confused.

Then, her expression shifted, worry creeping into her voice. "Valeria?" She pushed herself up slightly, rubbing at her eyes. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

I exhaled, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Everything's fine."

Her frown deepened. "Then why are you—"

"I just needed to see you," I admitted. "And I wanted to tell you—Dominic took the bait. He's spiraling. He called me in for a mission tomorrow."

She blinked, her mind still catching up. "That's good, right?"

I nodded. "It is."

She searched my face for a moment before asking, "Are you scared?"

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Fear? I never understood that word." I paused, then let out a slow breath, my fingers still tangled with hers. "But now that I have you to lose, I think... I am terrified."

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes glistening under the soft glow of the moonlight.

I swallowed, feeling the weight of what I was about to say settle over me. But I didn't pull back.

"Do you know what else I never understood?" I asked, my voice quieter now.

Emilia's breath hitched slightly. "What?" she whispered.

"Love."

I let the word sit there between us, feeling the truth of it sink into my bones. "I never knew love before. Never understood it. But now..." I exhaled, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. "I am in love with you, Emilia."

Her breath caught. A quiet, disbelieving laugh slipped past her lips, but there were tears in her eyes, shimmering like glass.

Before I could say anything else, she pulled me to her, her hands threading into my hair as she kissed me—desperate, deep, like she had been waiting forever for me to say it.

When she pulled back, her forehead rested against mine, her breath warm as she whispered, "I love you."

And I believed her.

For the first time in my life, I let myself believe.

I kissed her again, letting every emotion I had for her spill through it—every fear, every longing, every piece of me I had never given to anyone else.

She was mine. And tomorrow, I could lose everything.

I wasn't leaving without showing her exactly what she meant to me.

In one swift motion, I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it aside, my gaze locked on hers as I gently pushed her back down onto the bed, my body settling over hers.

"Val?" she whispered, her voice soft, searching.

I ran my fingers along her jaw, brushing her hair away as I leaned in, my lips ghosting over hers. "I am not walking through the fire without showing you how much I love you first."

Her breath hitched, and before she could say anything else, I kissed her again—deeper, hungrier, with purpose.

My lips were unrelenting, pressing into hers with something raw, something desperate, something that felt like a promise.

She gasped softly against my mouth, and I took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, letting my hands wander, tracing the familiar curves of her body, memorizing her.

She pulled away, her breath uneven, her eyes searching mine. "Are you sure?"

I didn't answer. I shut her up with a kiss, a slow, deep pull of her lips that left no room for doubt.

Then I climbed fully on top of her, my body pressing into hers as I settled between her legs, our hearts hammering against each other.

She was beneath me, her body warm and inviting, her eyes steady and full of something I wasn't sure I could name. Something I wasn't sure I deserved.

My hands trembled where they rested beside her, caging her in, trying to find something solid to hold on to. But nothing about this felt solid. Nothing about this felt like anything I had ever known.

I had power. I had control.

But I had never had this.

Emilia reached up, her fingers brushing my cheek, so gentle it almost made me flinch. She traced the curve of my jaw, her nails barely skimming my skin as her other hand found my own, wrapping around it like she was anchoring me.

"You're shaking," she murmured.

I was.

I hadn't realized it until she pointed it out, but now I could feel it—my body tense, my breath uneven, my heart hammering so hard I was sure she could hear it.

"Val," she whispered, squeezing my hand. "We don't have to—"

"I want to," I cut her off, my voice rough, uneven. "I just—I don't know how to—"

She smiled, and God, it was devastating. Not because it was teasing, not because it was mocking, but because it was understanding.

She knew.

She had always known.

She reached up, her fingers slipping into my hair, pulling me down until our foreheads touched. "Then let me show you," she whispered, her breath mingling with mine.

I swallowed, my throat dry. "Okay."

Her lips brushed against my cheek first, just a featherlight touch, and I shuddered.

She was taking her time, forcing me to feel it, forcing me to stay in this moment instead of running from it.

Her lips trailed lower, along my jaw, before she kissed the corner of my mouth, slow, deliberate.

I wasn't used to this. I wasn't used to anything about this.

I knew violence. I knew the raw, desperate kind of passion that came with power struggles and anger.

But this wasn't that.

This was intimacy.

This was her, making sure I understood exactly what she was giving me.

And I did.

I really, really did.

I exhaled shakily, my fingers pressing into the mattress beside her as I forced myself to relax, to let her take the lead, to let her guide me through something I had never dared to want.

"You're thinking too much," she murmured against my lips.

I let out a quiet laugh, tilting my head slightly. "That obvious?"

She smiled against my skin, her lips moving lower, pressing a kiss just below my ear. "Yes."

I felt her hands skim down my arms, her fingers slow, patient, reassuring.

"Tell me what you need," she whispered.

I clenched my jaw. "I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a breath.

She hummed softly, like that answer didn't surprise her. Like she already knew it.

And maybe she did.

She took my hands, lifting them from where they were buried in the sheets and guiding them to her waist. I let them settle there, unsure, unfamiliar, too afraid of breaking something I didn't understand.

"You won't hurt me," she whispered, like she could read my thoughts.

I swallowed hard, my fingers flexing against her skin.

I had never had this before.

I had never had someone like her before.

She took one of my hands and lifted it to her lips, pressing a kiss against my knuckles before pulling me down again, her lips brushing against my ear.

I took off her shirt, she was mine. And I needed to show her.

I leaned down, pressing a kiss against her throat, feeling the shiver that ran through her. She gasped softly, her hands sliding up my arms, over my shoulders, threading into my hair.

My lips moved lower, learning her body, searching, demanding. Every small sound she made, every shift of her hips, told me where to go next, what made her tremble, what made her gasp.

She squirmed beneath me, arching slightly, but she didn't rush me. She let me take my time. Let me figure it out.

Her patience made my chest tighten.

I had never been in charge before. Never been given the chance to explore, to touch, to taste, to love.

I traced my fingers down her body, stopping at the hem of her shirt before pulling it over her head, revealing everything. My breath caught in my throat as my hands roamed over her skin, teasing, hesitant, trembling slightly.

Her body reacted to me—every hitched breath, every quiet gasp—a kind of power I had never known before.

My fingers slid lower, tracing the waistband of her shorts. I swallowed hard before hooking my thumbs under them, pulling them down with slow, careful precision.

She lifted her hips, helping me, letting me strip her bare.

And then I just... stared.

Naked. Vulnerable. Wanting.

Wanting me.

My mouth went dry. My fingers twitched at my sides. My pulse roared in my ears.

"Valeria," she breathed out, almost pleading.

I made a sound in the back of my throat—something between a hum and a sharp inhale—because fuck, I didn't know what to do next.

She must have noticed my hesitation because she reached for my hand, guiding it down exactly where she needed me the most.

I felt everything—the warmth, the slickness, the way she welcomed me so effortlessly.

A shudder rolled through me.

And then she moaned.

Low, needy, satisfied.

The sound nearly broke me.

Her hips shifted, urging me forward, asking for more, and my instincts took over.

I moved, slowly at first, feeling my way through the moment, watching her face, waiting for any sign that I was doing something wrong.

But the way she tilted her head back, the way her lips parted, the way her fingers tightened around the back of my neck—it told me I was doing it right.

"Valeria," she moaned again, my name spilling from her lips like something sacred.

I hesitated for half a second.

She felt it.

Her eyes snapped open, dark and consuming, locking onto mine. "Don't you dare stop."

And I didn't.

I kept moving, deeper, harder, my rhythm building, her body trembling beneath mine.

She gasped, her back arching, her nails digging into my shoulders.

Her hair was a mess against the pillow, her body flushed, her breath coming in sharp, ragged pulls.

And then—she broke.

Her body went taut, a sharp gasp cutting through the air before she collapsed into me, pulling me down, pressing her lips to mine, swallowing her own moans.

She shook against me, still pulsing around my fingers, and I smiled against her mouth, my own breath coming hard and fast.

I felt her sigh against my lips, a quiet, satisfied hum.

And then, her fingers traced down my back, slow, teasing. Her hands, soft but commanding, urged me lower, guiding me exactly where she wanted me next.

I let her.

I kissed my way down, slowly, deliberately, savoring every inch of her skin, until I reached the place I wanted to taste the most.

She shuddered beneath me as my lips finally met her, as my tongue brushed against her, as she gasped my name into the air like a prayer.

I devoured her, not just to please her, but because I needed this.

I needed her.

I needed to feel her lose herself in me the way I had already lost myself in her.

Her body arched again, her fingers weaving into my hair, her thighs trembling around me.

And when she came again, when she broke apart for me, I felt powerful.

Before I could fully catch my breath, before I could even think, Emilia moved.

In a swift, effortless motion, she turned us over, her body pressing into mine, pinning me beneath her.

I let out a breathless laugh, dazed and completely undone, my hands instinctively gripping her waist. She smirked at me, that knowing, devastating smirk that always made my pulse stutter.

But when her hands slid up my arms, over my shoulders, then down to rest against my pounding chest, that playful look softened into something deeper.

Something reverent.

Her fingers traced my skin, slow, deliberate, like she was memorizing me, like she wanted to commit every inch of me to memory.

"Relax," she whispered, leaning down, her lips ghosting over my jaw. "Trust me."

I swallowed, hard, my body stiff beneath her.

Relax.

Trust.

Two things I had never known how to do.

She must have felt the tension in me, because she kissed me softly—too softly—pulling me out of my head, back into this moment, this feeling, her.

"Val," she murmured against my lips, her hands sliding lower, over the ridges of my stomach, past my hips.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my muscles instinctively tensing again, but she didn't rush me. She waited, letting me adjust to her touch, letting me decide if I was ready.

No one had ever done that before.

No one had ever made me feel like I had a choice.

I let out a slow exhale, my fingers threading into her hair, and nodded. "I trust you."

Her lips curved against mine in a smile—one that I felt, one that sent warmth flooding through me.

"Good," she whispered.

Then she kissed me again, but this time there was no hesitation, no space between us, no uncertainty.

Emilia's hands moved with ease, unbuttoning my pants, peeling away the last layers between us.

It was too easy for her—like she had done this before, like she knew exactly how to undress someone like me.

Doubt crept into my mind, uninvited and unwelcome.

How many had come before me? How many had been here, beneath her, feeling her hands trace over their skin?

I tensed without meaning to.

But Emilia noticed.

Her fingers brushed my cheek, tilting my chin so I had no choice but to look at her, to see the way her eyes softened with something real.

"Stay with me," she murmured, her lips just barely grazing mine. "Focus on me. Just me."

Her voice, warm and steady, cut through the storm in my head.

I exhaled shakily, nodding.

Just her.

She slid lower, positioning herself between my legs, her body pressing against mine in a way I had never experienced before.

I gasped.

I had never felt this.

This heat, this pressure, this intoxicating, dizzying friction.

My fingers dug into her back, gripping her tight as she moved against me, her hips rolling in a way that sent a pulse of pure pleasure rushing through my veins.

I sucked in a sharp breath, startled by the sheer intensity of it.

My body reacted before I could think, my hands gripping her harder, holding on like she was the only thing keeping me grounded.

Emilia chuckled against my skin, her breath warm, teasing. "Easy, Val," she whispered, her voice edged with amusement. "You'll break me."

I loosened my grip immediately, flushing, feeling ridiculous.

"Relax," she murmured again, pressing a kiss against my shoulder, her hands smoothing over my sides.

I tried.

I really did.

But how could I relax when she was doing this to me—when she was making me feel things I didn't know I could feel?

She moved again, slow and deliberate, and my breath hitched, my body arching into hers, craving more.

"That's it," she whispered, her lips brushing against my neck. "Just feel."

I felt everything—her body, her breathing, the heat of her skin pressed against mine. So close. So intimate. It was overwhelming, consuming.

Something was building inside me, something unfamiliar yet instinctual, clawing at my chest, tightening in my stomach.

I didn't know what to do with it.

Panic flickered for a second, and I grabbed Emilia's wrist, stopping her movements.

She lifted her head, her brows furrowing slightly as she searched my face. "What's wrong?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My pulse was hammering, my breath uneven. I didn't know how to say it.

Emilia's eyes softened, understanding before I could even explain.

"It's okay," she murmured, brushing her lips against my jaw, her hands steady against my sides. "It's normal." Another kiss, deeper this time, as if grounding me. "It's supposed to feel this way."

I swallowed, my fingers curling around her arm as I nodded slowly.

She smiled, that soft, knowing smile that made my chest ache, and then she started moving again.

My breath caught, my body arching into hers, struggling to stay still.

I clenched my teeth, trying to fight the wave, but Emilia wouldn't let me.

She felt it, saw the way my muscles tensed, the way I tried to hold back, and she whispered against my lips, "Let go."

And then—I broke.

The pleasure came crashing over me, raw and explosive, tearing through me like nothing I had ever felt before.

I gasped, my hands flying to her back, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

She didn't stop, didn't pull away, just held me through it, whispering my name, pressing kisses against my skin, until I finally collapsed beneath her, completely undone.

Emilia didn't stop there.

I barely had time to catch my breath before she started moving lower, her lips trailing down my stomach, her hands steady against my hips, keeping me exactly where she wanted me.

My body tensed as her mouth found me, her tongue moving against me—expert, relentless, devastating.

A choked sound escaped my throat, my hands gripping the sheets, desperate for something—anything—to hold on to.

I was unraveling.

Losing control.

I had never lost control.

No one had ever had this much power over me.

No one had ever touched me like this, made me feel like this, made me completely forget who I was outside of this moment, outside of her.

And then—she entered me.

A sharp gasp tore from my lips, my back arching off the bed, the sensation so intense it stole the breath from my lungs.

Emilia hummed against me, satisfied, pleased, like she could feel exactly what she was doing to me.

Like she knew she was ruining me completely—and she loved it.