Chapter 18 tension and triggers
756 Words
Aria barely slept.
By the time morning cracked over the Manhattan skyline, her brain felt like it had been through a damn blender. Her body ached from the storm of adrenaline, her lips still sore from Dante’s brutal kiss, and her mind?
A war zone.
She stared at her reflection in the penthouse bathroom mirror — hair messy, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched tight.
“Get your s**t together,” she muttered.
This wasn’t about stolen kisses or fleeting heat. This was about her father, about justice — or revenge, whatever the hell it was at this point — and she couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by the very man who might’ve pulled the trigger.
And yet… her fingers brushed her lower lip, recalling the violent, possessive way Dante had kissed her like he owned her f*****g soul.
Her chest tightened. Aria bit back a curse and stormed out of the bathroom.
Downstairs, Club Serpentine was a ghost town — the aftermath of the previous night’s debauchery lingering in the stale air. She moved through the halls quickly, every heel-click reminding her why she was here.
To infiltrate.
To burn the Moretti name from the inside out.
And most of all, to find the bastard who killed Giovanni Leone.
“Morning, sunshine,” Luca greeted from the lounge, nursing a black coffee while flicking through reports. His sharp gaze immediately caught the tension in her shoulders. “Rough night?”
Aria ignored him, heading for the office.
“Hold up,” Luca stood, blocking her path. “You’re not going anywhere without breakfast. Boss’s orders.”
“I don’t take f*****g orders,” she snapped, muscles coiling tight.
“Yeah? Tell that to Dante,” Luca shot back, grin wolfish. “He’s already in the war room, gearing up for a shitstorm.”
Aria’s pulse jumped. “What happened?”
Luca’s grin dropped. “One of Moretti’s safe houses in Jersey was hit last night. Two dead. One missing. This wasn’t a random street hit — this was professional.”
Aria’s gut twisted. Her hand flexed by her side. “Do we know who?”
“Someone’s feeding intel to Moretti’s enemies,” Luca said grimly. “And last night was a f*****g message.”
Her throat went dry. Whoever was behind this was pushing for a war.
And whoever it was… they were getting closer.
By the time she walked into the war room, the air was thick with aggression. Maps were spread out, Dante standing at the center, sleeves rolled up, jaw locked.
She hated how goddamn good he looked angry.
But she swallowed it down and focused.
“Sit down,” Dante barked without looking at her.
Aria sat, eyeing the others in the room — lieutenants, shooters, business heads — and then Bianca f*****g Rosetti, perched in the corner like a vulture in designer silk, eyes glinting with poison.
“This wasn’t just a hit,” Dante growled. “It was an execution. And someone inside this room is feeding them.”
The accusation sliced through the room like a blade. Bianca shifted, defensive, but Aria leaned back, cold and calculating.
“Who had access to the safe house location?” she asked.
Dante’s eyes snapped to her, approving. “Matteo traced the leak back to internal comms. Which means one of ours is working with the f*****g DiMarcos.”
Bianca scoffed. “Oh please. Why is it that ever since she arrived, everything’s gone to hell?”
Aria smiled coolly. “If I wanted Moretti’s empire, sweetheart, it’d already be under my heel.”
Bianca lunged forward, but Dante slammed a fist onto the table. “Enough!”
The room went dead silent.
Aria’s pulse raced. Beneath the tension, she saw it — the fracture lines in Dante’s crew. The whispers of betrayal. The brewing storm.
And she would use every f*****g piece to find her father’s killer.
Dante pointed at her. “You’re coming with me tonight.”
“Where?”
“To Brooklyn,” he said. “We’re flushing out the rat. Face-to-face.”
Her heart thrummed. The next twenty-four hours were going to explode.
She forced herself to smile. “Perfect. I’ve been dying for a little action.”
Dante’s grin was dangerous. “Oh, you’ll get plenty of that.”
And as she left the room, Dante’s eyes still glued to her like a goddamn predator, Aria realized something terrifying:
Her vengeance was getting closer.
But so was the moment she’d have to choose between justice… or him.
- Writer
