Chapter11
1331 Words
The next morning arrived with an overcast sky and the kind of heaviness that promised something was about to break—weather, silence, or maybe Ava’s nerves.
She still couldn’t believe she’d slept in the DeLuca mansion. One night, that was all it took—for her guard to slip, for exhaustion to win. She wasn’t meant to stay. But she had.
She stood in front of the long mirror in her guest room, tying her dark hair into a low bun. Her fingers moved automatically, but her thoughts were anything but steady. The night before still echoed in her mind: Nico’s gaze, his voice, the way he’d stood just close enough to touch but didn’t.
She should have walked away. Should have thanked him for the protection and stayed out of the deeper waters.
But instead… she found herself drawn in, chest-first, toward a man she barely understood.
A knock snapped her out of it.
She opened the door to find Enzo, looking like he hadn’t slept. His jacket was slung over his shoulder, his stubble rougher than usual. “Boss wants you suited and ready. Now.”
Ava frowned. “Suited for what?”
He shrugged. “Show of force.”
Ten minutes later, she was dressed in black jeans, a fitted coat, and boots with enough tread to chase someone if she had to. She didn’t wear a weapon—she hadn’t earned one yet—but Enzo handed her an earpiece and a burner phone.
“Don’t lose that,” he said. “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Don’t wander. And if someone pulls a gun on you, duck.”
“Thanks for the heartfelt safety tips,” she muttered.
He cracked a grin, rare and surprising. “You’ll do fine. You’ve got more spine than most of the guys we’ve buried.”
Not exactly comforting.
By the time she and Enzo joined Nico downstairs, four black SUVs idled outside, engines humming. Nico was already giving orders, dressed in his signature charcoal coat and gloves, radiating control.
Ava fell into step beside him as he slid into the middle SUV.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Warehouse district near Hunts Point,” he said. “One of Rafe’s crews was hit last night. The shipment wasn’t just stolen. They left a message.”
Ava raised an eyebrow. “So this truce is already cracking?”
“It was never a truce. Just a conversation.”
They drove in silence until they reached the scene. The warehouse looked like it had been swallowed by hell and spat back out. Burned crates, broken windows, blood stains on the concrete. Police tape fluttered uselessly on the wind, ignored by both the DeLucas and Virelli men already stationed inside.
Ava noticed how everyone paused when Nico entered.
And how they stared at her.
Rafe was already there, standing with a half-bandaged arm and his usual smug expression. His crew flanked him, none of them smiling.
“DeLuca,” Rafe said. “You brought the girl. Cute.”
Before Ava could say a word, Nico responded.
“She’s not here to amuse you, Rafe. She’s here to see what happens when you don’t protect your assets.”
A flicker of respect—or was it annoyance?—passed through Rafe’s face. “My men said it was the Ashen.”
Ava blinked. “Who?”
Nico didn’t look at her, but she could feel the way he tensed. “A crew that was wiped out two years ago. Or so we thought. They deal in military-grade tech. Like ghosts with grenades.”
Rafe crossed his arms. “They left this behind.” He motioned toward a scorched crate. On it, burned into the wood, was a symbol—a single diagonal line bisected by two dots.
Ava stared at it, something cold crawling up her spine.
Nico knelt in front of the mark, fingers brushing the ash. “It’s a challenge. They’re calling us out. Both crews.”
Rafe spat to the side. “You think they want a war?”
“No,” Nico said. “They want to finish what they started. This time, with a message.”
Ava stepped back, keeping quiet, but alert. The room felt ready to explode, and every man inside was armed to the teeth.
Nico stood and turned to Rafe. “This changes things.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Rafe growled. “But your girl’s not going to help us figure it out.”
Nico’s eyes flashed. “You keep bringing her up. Maybe you're obsessed.”
Rafe smirked. “Maybe I just don’t like surprises.”
“She’s part of this now,” Nico said coldly. “Which means you show her the same respect you show me. Or you don’t walk out of here.”
Ava's breath caught—his voice wasn’t raised, but it landed like thunder. And for reasons she didn’t dare unpack, the weight of his words did something to her. Her heartbeat stuttered. Her skin flushed with heat. Something primal stirred inside her chest, and she looked away before anyone could see it in her eyes.
A few hours later, they were back at the estate. Ava headed for the kitchen, needing coffee—or maybe something stronger. Her body still buzzed from the adrenaline, but it wasn’t just the danger.
It was him.
Nico found her ten minutes later, a cup in his hand, leaning against the counter like he owned the world.
“You did well today,” he said.
Ava took the coffee from him without a word.
“You didn’t freeze. You didn’t panic. You listened.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m not. I just didn’t think you’d last this long.”
She gave him a dry look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
He took a sip of his own coffee. “What do you think of the Ashen?”
“They’re not playing. They’re surgical. And they want to hurt both of you.”
Nico nodded slowly. “Exactly.”
Silence stretched again. But this one felt different. More intimate.
Finally, Ava set her cup down. “What now?”
“We follow the money. Every Ashen op starts with cash—new gear, new connections. If they’re resurfacing, they’re spending.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said.
He gave her a look. “You volunteering now?”
“I want to know what I’m part of. That means seeing it.”
Nico studied her face. “You meant what you said to Rafe, didn’t you?”
Ava tilted her head. “Which part?”
“‘You should worry about me if I’m still here.’”
She hesitated. “Yeah. I meant it.”
Something passed between them. Not words. Not yet. But something heavier.
Nico took a step closer, and her breath caught again.
“You talk like someone who’s already part of this world.”
She smirked. “You said I wasn’t cut out for it.”
“And I also said you keep surprising me.”
He stepped back then—barely. But it was enough to remind her who he was. What this was.
“I’ve got a list of shell companies we need to look into,” he said, voice shifting back to business. “You’ll ride with me in the morning. We’ll hit the banks by nine.”
“Got it.”
She turned to go, but he spoke again.
“Ava.”
She stopped.
“You did more than just show up today. You proved something.”
She looked over her shoulder, meeting his eyes. “To you?”
“To everyone.”
Then she walked away, but this time, she felt something electric trailing behind her, as if the air between them was stitched together with invisible threads.
And somewhere deep in her chest, the fire stirred again.
- Writer
