Catalyst

CHAPTER 2: RUNNING INTO THE DEVIL

### **Chapter 2: Running Into the Devil**

#### **Istanbul, Turkey**

I didn’t stop moving until I was halfway across the world.

By the time I landed in Istanbul, my nerves were raw, my body running on stale airport coffee and paranoia. I hadn’t slept in nearly thirty hours, and every step through the crowded streets felt like walking through a minefield.

I kept my hood low, my hands in my pockets, scanning every face that passed. Istanbul was chaotic in the best way—crowded, noisy, unpredictable. A perfect place to disappear. A perfect place to run illegal operations.

And Luca Reyes was an expert at both.

I found him at the docks.

It wasn’t hard to track him down once I started asking the right people—the ones who dealt in smuggled weapons, stolen data, and forged identities. Luca had left his fingerprints all over Istanbul’s underground, running black-market ops like he’d never left the game.

I kept my approach quiet, shadowing him through the maze of shipping containers, waiting for the right moment. He was meeting someone, exchanging a briefcase for a sleek black drive.

Money for information. Classic Luca.

I let him finish his deal. Then, as he turned to leave, I stepped in front of him, gun raised, pressing the barrel right against his chest.

Luca stilled instantly.

Then, slowly, his eyes dragged up to meet mine. And damn him, he had the audacity to smirk.

“Knew you’d come looking for me eventually, querida.”

My grip tightened. “Shut up.”

His smirk widened, but his hands stayed at his sides, casual, like he wasn’t staring down the barrel of my gun. “I take it you’ve seen the news.”

“Cut the act, Luca,” I snapped. “I’m not in the mood for your games.”

“And yet, here you are.” He glanced down at the gun, arching a brow. “Is this really necessary?”

I pushed harder. “I got a distress signal from Catalyst.”

That wiped the smirk off his face.

His entire body went still, the teasing edge in his voice vanishing like smoke. His dark eyes sharpened, calculating, and I saw the exact moment he stopped underestimating me.

“You’re lying,” he said flatly.

I scoffed. “If I were lying, would I be standing here, with my entire life burned to the ground?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He wasn’t as calm as he wanted me to believe.

“Who else knows?” he asked.

“Whoever the hell sent that signal. And whoever tried to put a bullet in my head last night.”

Luca exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair, tension rolling off him.

I didn’t lower my gun.

“Talk,” I demanded. “Who’s behind this? Who framed me?”

He looked at me, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “You’re asking the wrong questions.”

“Then ask the right ones.”

Before he could answer, a **gunshot cracked through the air.**

I barely had time to react before Luca lunged. His arms wrapped around me, shoving me hard behind a stack of crates. A second shot rang out, splintering the wood where I had been standing.

Sniper.

Shit.

I moved instinctively, pressing my back to the metal shipping container, gun raised, scanning the rooftops.

Luca was already moving. He yanked me to my feet, his grip tight on my wrist. “We need to go. Now.”

I pulled away. “You expect me to just—”

Another shot.

Luca cursed under his breath, then did the last thing I expected—he **picked me up and ran.**

“What the hell—”

“Shut up and hold on.”

I didn’t get a choice. He moved fast, weaving between containers, using the maze-like layout of the docks to cut off the sniper’s line of sight. My pulse pounded, every nerve on edge as more bullets ricocheted off metal, **too damn close.**

Luca’s car was parked near the docks—a sleek black SUV, tinted windows, modified engine. He threw the door open, practically shoving me inside before sliding in after me.

The moment the doors shut, he peeled out of the lot, tires screeching as we sped into the Istanbul streets.

For a minute, neither of us spoke. My hands were shaking, but I refused to let it show.

Luca’s jaw was tight, his grip white-knuckled on the wheel. “You have a lot of people who want you dead, Kiera.”

I let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, funny how that happens when someone frames you for **espionage and murder.**”

He didn’t answer.

I studied him, trying to read him. He had changed since the last time I’d seen him—more controlled, more dangerous. The easy arrogance was still there, but underneath it, I saw something colder.

We drove in silence until he finally pulled into a side street, disappearing into a maze of back alleys before parking in front of a nondescript building.

Safe house.

He killed the engine, but neither of us moved.

Finally, I broke the silence. “You still haven’t told me what the hell is going on.”

He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “And you still haven’t thanked me for saving your life.”

I scoffed. “You expect me to believe you didn’t know about this?”

Luca sighed, leaning back against the seat. “Believe whatever you want, Kiera. But if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have pulled you out of that sniper’s sights.”

I hated that he had a point.

I hated that, for a split second back there, when he had wrapped himself around me to shield me, I had felt safe.

But Luca Reyes was **never** safe.

And now I was trapped with him.

I opened the car door and stepped out, taking in the run-down building. “This is your safe house?”

“For tonight.” He got out and walked around the car, unlocking the door with a key. “Unless you’d rather take your chances on the street?”

I clenched my jaw but didn’t argue.

The inside was small, barely furnished. A couch, a tiny kitchen, and a single bedroom. Great.

I dropped my bag on the couch and turned to face him. “You owe me answers.”

Luca leaned against the counter, watching me with that unreadable expression. “And you owe me a little gratitude.”

I rolled my eyes. “Cut the s**t, Luca.”

His lips curled into that slow, lazy smirk—the one that had always **pissed me off and made me want to kiss him in equal measure.**

I forced myself to ignore the heat creeping up my neck.

“We should get some rest,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement. “Unless you’d rather keep fighting all night?”

I scoffed. “I’m not sleeping in the same room as you.”

Luca shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I’d lock the door if I were you.”

I grabbed the blanket from the couch and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me.

My heart was still pounding, my skin still buzzing from the way he had pressed me against him, shielding me from gunfire.

I hated him.

I hated how he still got under my skin.

But most of all, I hated the way part of me wanted to believe that, this time, he might not betray me.