Prologue — Fall Into His Eyes
1044 Words
The rain hit Manila’s asphalt like a steady drumbeat of war. The city, alive and loud during the day, now felt cloaked in something colder—something heavier.
Aeris Valdez moved like a shadow through the alley behind the Port of Manila, the scent of saltwater and gunmetal thick in the air. Dressed in black tactical gear, her hands steady on her sidearm, she was every bit the weapon the government had turned her into.
She didn’t flinch at the sound of a gunshot in the distance. Didn’t even blink.
"Target is en route," the voice in her earpiece said. Her handler, Reyes. Smooth, calm, unaware of the storm that brewed in her chest.
"Copy that," Aeris murmured, slipping into the shadows as headlights approached.
Her mission was simple. Infiltrate the Moretti Syndicate. Identify its new leader. Eliminate threats.
What she hadn’t expected was him.
The black car slid to a halt, sleek and silent like a predator. Four men stepped out first—armed, alert, and ready to kill. Then came the man she had only seen in files, in grainy surveillance photos. But nothing had prepared her for the real thing.
Luca Moretti.
He stepped into the rain as if it bent to his will, not a drop touching his perfectly tailored suit. Midnight black hair slicked back, sharp cheekbones, a jawline chiseled by war and luxury alike. But it wasn’t his looks that made her breath catch.
It was his eyes.
Steel-gray, cold but aware. Intelligent. Calculating. And when they met hers, it was as if time forgot how to move.
She had a plan. Years of training. Layers of lies.
But all of it began to fracture in that first second of contact.
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Two Weeks Earlier
"He's dangerous, Aeris. We don’t go after men like him unless we’re ready to burn."
Reyes slapped the file onto the table in front of her. The manila folder bore one name: LUCA ENZO MORETTI. Age: 26. Nationality: Dual. Criminal Status: Untouchable.
Aeris leaned back in her chair, unreadable. “Then light the match.”
Reyes laughed humorlessly. “You're not just going in. You're becoming someone new. An heiress. An arms broker’s daughter. And you're going to make him want you close.”
“Seduction?”
“No. Trust. That’s harder to fake. You’ll be Elena Vargas. Spoiled. Rich. Dangerous enough to interest him. Not dangerous enough to scare him.”
Aeris nodded, flipping through the photos. The man was ice and fire all at once.
“And what if he sees through me?”
“Then you’re dead.”
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Infiltrating Luca’s world was easier than expected. A few planted rumors, a few whispers about a mysterious new player in the black market. It didn’t take long for the Morettis to notice her.
What surprised her was how quickly he noticed her.
Their first real meeting was at a high-stakes poker event in Makati, surrounded by blood money and expensive suits.
He sat across from her at the table, silent, sipping something amber and expensive.
"You’re new," he said, voice smooth like velvet and smoke.
"You’re observant."
"People don’t sit at this table without a reason."
"I like to win."
Their eyes locked again.
And that was the beginning.
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Over the months, their interactions grew frequent, and increasingly personal. He didn’t ask questions she expected—about deals or weapons or connections. He asked about her past, her thoughts on loyalty, fear, regret.
And she lied. Effortlessly. But not painlessly.
For every mask she wore, he seemed to wear five.
She wanted to believe she was still in control.
Until the night he touched her wrist, just lightly, and said:
“You’re hiding something, Elena.”
She almost flinched. “Am I?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “But I like secrets. They make people interesting.”
So he knew. Or maybe he only suspected. Either way, the game was changing.
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Port of Manila
The deal was supposed to go wrong. Her agency had orchestrated it that way.
A fake buyer. A staged ambush. Enough to shake the syndicate’s trust in Luca, force him to make mistakes.
But Luca didn’t shake.
He adapted. Quickly. Violently.
Gunfire erupted. Aeris had no choice but to fight—exposing skills far beyond what “Elena Vargas” was supposed to have. She downed two men in seconds, knife thrown with military precision, a Glock in her palm like second nature.
And when the smoke cleared, she stood alone in the warehouse with him.
Luca’s suit was torn, blood on his cheek. But his eyes—his eyes were calm.
"You’re not who you say you are."
"And you’re still standing," she replied coolly.
They faced each other, two predators with too much to lose.
“I could kill you right now.”
“I know.”
“Then why aren’t you running?”
“Because maybe,” she whispered, lowering her weapon, “I don’t want to.”
Luca stepped closer, eyes locked to hers. “Or maybe,” he murmured, “you want me to catch you.”
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They didn’t speak about it after that night. He didn’t ask who she really was. She didn’t tell him.
But the air between them changed. Tighter. Hotter. More dangerous.
She slept with her gun under the pillow.
And still, she stayed.
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During a gala hosted by the Syndicate’s elder council, Luca stood beside Aeris in front of dozens of powerful criminals, his hand placed lightly—possessively—on her back.
She wore red silk and diamond daggers in her ears. Her eyes scanned the room, but she was losing focus. Losing grip.
Then came the announcement.
From the mouth of Don Silvano Moretti himself—Luca’s father, ghostlike and cruel.
“Tonight, we celebrate not just alliances, but blood. My son, Luca Moretti, and his intended fiancée, Elena Vargas, will be married at the end of this month. For peace. For power. For permanence.”
The applause was thunderous. Champagne flowed.
Aeris’s breath stopped.
What.
She turned her head slowly toward Luca.
He didn’t look surprised.
He leaned down and whispered into her ear, voice low and unreadable:
“Now you can’t run.”
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To Be Continued…
- Writer
