Chapter 6: A Lesson In Trust
959 Words
(Dario)
The body is found at dawn.
Carlo drags me into the garage beneath the estate, his face pale, his voice tight. The scent of motor oil and blood hits me hard, a visceral reminder of the violence lurking in my life.
My man, Enzo, lies slumped against the wall, throat cut with surgical precision.
It’s clean. Too clean.
A message, not a murder.
Aria kneels beside him, gloved hands hovering over the wound. She examines it with a fierce intensity, like she’s memorizing every angle, every cut. When she looks up, her eyes are dark and unreadable, but the heat simmering beneath the surface pulls me in.
“Your mole had military training,” she says, her voice sultry and smooth.
My jaw ticks. “That narrows it to half the organization.”
She rises, fluid and poised, like a predator ready to pounce. “No. Only three of them would dare to get this close to you.”
“How do you know?”
Her blade glints as she wipes it clean, her movements deliberate, drawing my gaze to the curve of her hips. “Because I would.”
There’s no bravado in her tone—just a raw truth that ignites a fire inside me.
I should be unnerved, but the dangerous pull toward her is intoxicating.
She’s what I’ve been missing in this world built on lies—clarity wrapped in chaos, and I want more than just her words.
Carlo mutters a curse under his breath. “We can’t keep this quiet for long.”
“We will,” I say, a dark promise lingering in the air. “And anyone who talks will end up like Enzo.”
When I glance at Aria, she’s already moving toward the exit, her silhouette a dark temptation. “Where are you going?”
“To find your traitor,” she says, pausing in the doorway, her voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down my spine. “But next time, Don Moretti—don’t bring me in after the damage. Bring me in before.”
The sound of her heels fades, but the command in her voice lingers, a heady mix of power and desire.
She’s not just part of my plan anymore. She’s leading it.
And that should terrify me.
Instead, I crave the heat she brings.
Aria
The cameras in Dario’s estate don’t lie.
I’ve spent the last two hours combing through the security feed, every flicker of movement reflected in the glow of the monitors. Dario stands behind me, a dark presence, his heat radiating off him like a flame, making it hard to focus.
He hasn’t spoken since we entered this room, but I can feel him in every breath I take, a magnetic pull that makes my heart race.
“You’re quiet,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the screen, unwilling to let the tension spiral out of control.
“So are you.”
“I’m working.”
“I noticed.”
The trace of amusement in his voice slides under my skin, igniting a spark that travels down my spine.
Footage rewinds. A man in a grey suit enters the east wing. He’s careful, too careful. He disables one camera before stepping out of frame.
“There,” I whisper, my pulse quickening.
Dario steps closer, his hand braced beside mine on the table, his body heat brushing against my arm, igniting a delicious tension that makes it hard to breathe.
“Luca,” he says, voice cold, but there’s an edge of something darker in it. “I trusted him.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
His eyes flick to mine, searching for something. “You don’t trust anyone, do you?”
“Trust gets you killed.”
“And yet,” he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath a warm caress that makes my skin tingle, “you’re still here. With me.”
The air shifts—dangerous, intimate. His voice vibrates through me, stirring desire I’ve kept buried for too long.
“I’m here for the job,” I whisper, fighting the urge to lean into him.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He turns my face toward him, fingers grazing my chin—barely a touch, but it burns, igniting a longing that feels almost primal. I can feel his restraint, a tantalizing dance of control that pulls me closer.
“Tell me,” he says softly, his gaze piercing through my defenses, “if I asked what you’re afraid of… would you lie to me?”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding. “Would it matter?”
He studies me, eyes dark and hungry. “It would matter to me.”
Something in his tone cracks my composure, pulling me further into his orbit.
I pull back before I can fall any deeper. “We have a name. That’s what matters.”
He nods once, jaw tight with frustration. “Then let’s finish this.”
As I walk past him, his fingers brush my wrist—brief, electric, intentional.
It’s not a pull. It’s a promise of danger, of pleasure, of everything that could unravel between us.
(Dario)
We move together like we’ve done this for years, a dangerous dance down the marble corridor, into the shadows where my world thrives.
The predator and the assassin.
But this time, I’m not sure who’s hunting who.
When she glances back at me, her eyes flash with something fierce—fury, longing, lust. And I know one truth as sure as blood and loyalty:
If I lose her, I lose the edge that keeps me alive—and part of me craves the high of what could be, a dark thrill that begs to be explored.
- Writer
