Chapter3
1311 Words
Eliya didn’t sleep.
The mattress in Matteo’s safehouse was stiff, military-grade, and smelled faintly of oil and secrets. But that wasn’t why her eyes stayed open.
It was instinct.
Something about the way Matteo had said “You’re bait” had settled under her skin like a splinter she couldn’t dig out.
She lay on her back, arms crossed over her chest, fully dressed—gun tucked beneath the pillow. Waiting.
The man in the other room was silent. Controlled. She didn’t trust that. No man who moved like that was ever truly calm. That was the walk of someone trained to kill without question.
But she wasn’t afraid. Just alert.
Five years in the dark had taught her the difference.
At 3:12 a.m., she heard it.
A metallic clink—barely there.
Then another.
She was on her feet before the third.
Outside, the building creaked with silence. The type that screams get out now to anyone who’s been hunted before.
She reached for her gun and eased open the door.
Matteo was already awake—gun in hand, jaw tight, eyes on the floor.
He held up two fingers, pointed to the ceiling.
Then to the hallway.
They were being surrounded.
She mouthed, “How many?”
He held up three fingers. Then one more.
Four.
Eliya’s pulse stayed steady. She didn’t panic. She never did.
Instead, she grabbed her boots and moved quickly toward the window.
“We can’t stay,” she whispered.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Matteo replied, checking his magazine.
Eliya glanced at the fire escape.
“Back route?”
“Covered.”
“Front?”
“Worse.”
A pause.
She met his eyes. “Then we go through them.”
He didn’t argue.
That was the first thing she almost respected about him.
—
The ambush exploded before they made it halfway down the hall.
One man burst from the stairwell—automatic weapon up. Eliya dropped fast, firing two quick shots. One hit the shoulder, the second cracked the mask and took out the man underneath.
“Go!” she shouted.
Matteo spun, taking cover behind a pillar as a second assailant opened fire from the left. He returned three precise rounds—two in the chest, one in the head. Clean. Efficient.
But there were still two more.
Eliya ducked behind an overturned cart as bullets ripped through drywall and doorframes.
“Who are they?” she shouted.
“Lucero wouldn’t send them,” Matteo yelled back.
“Then who the hell—”
A flash grenade rolled down the hallway.
Eliya cursed. “s**t!”
She turned, lunged behind Matteo just as the blast lit the corridor in searing white.
Her ears rang. Her vision blurred.
Matteo grabbed her arm and yanked her into a supply closet. Kicked it shut. Barricaded it with a shelf.
They both collapsed against the wall, breathing hard.
“Definitely not Lucero,” Eliya muttered, trying to blink the spots from her eyes.
“No. This is sloppier,” Matteo said, voice rough. “They wanted a body count, not leverage.”
“Cartel?” she asked.
He nodded. “Someone’s getting desperate.”
She rubbed her face, jaw clenched.
“They’re sending waves. That means they don’t have it.”
Matteo looked at her. “Have what?”
“The ledger.”
He paused.
“You do have it,” he said.
“No,” she snapped.
But her tone gave too much away.
He leaned closer.
“If you’re lying—”
“I don’t have it,” she said again, sharper. “But I knew the man who did. He gave me something. Told me to run.”
“What was it?”
“I never looked. I was too busy staying alive.”
His eyes searched hers. “You expect me to believe you’ve been running all this time and never checked what was in the package?”
She smiled bitterly. “Believe what you want. I buried it. That was the deal.”
Matteo leaned back, still watching her.
“You’re not just bait anymore,” he said. “You’re the target.”
—
When the noise died down, they moved again—quick, clean, silent.
Matteo led her down the back stairs, past two more bodies. Eliya didn’t blink.
They climbed into a second SUV Matteo had parked two blocks away. It was black, bulletproof, untraceable.
Inside, the silence thickened.
Eliya broke it first.
“You should drop me off and vanish.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You don’t even like me.”
“That’s true.”
She looked out the window. “So what now?”
He didn’t answer.
They drove north, past Harlem, into the outskirts of the city. Eventually, they reached a motel so forgettable it might’ve never existed. Matteo checked them in under fake names. Paid cash.
Inside the room—plain, wood-paneled, curtains drawn—he finally looked at her fully.
“Start from the beginning,” he said.
“No.”
“Eliya.”
“No more secrets,” she said. “Not unless we’re equal. You want truth? Then give some first.”
He hesitated.
Then, finally—he nodded.
“My brother died in that warehouse fire.”
Her eyes flicked up.
“Luca,” Matteo said. “He was 22. A rookie in the family. They sent him to track something that went missing—something encrypted, valuable. He never made it out.”
She sat still.
“He was sweet. Too soft. But loyal.”
Matteo swallowed. “I found what was left of him three days later.”
Eliya’s voice was quiet. “I didn’t know.”
“No reason you would’ve. But someone set that fire. Someone knew what was there.”
“And you think it was me.”
“I think you were there.”
“I was,” she said. “But I didn’t light it.”
He didn’t respond.
She reached into her boot and pulled out a flash drive.
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
“You said you didn’t have it.”
“I said I buried the package. I didn’t say I never took a piece.”
He reached out.
She held it back.
“Not yet.”
His jaw clenched. “Why keep this?”
“Insurance.”
“Against who?”
“Everyone.”
They stared at each other for a beat. Neither spoke. Neither blinked.
Then—his phone buzzed.
He checked the encrypted message.
Matteo’s face went hard.
“What?”
“The Luceros know we’re gone. They’ve put a mark out—on both of us.”
Eliya’s blood ran cold. “What?”
“They think I’ve gone rogue. That you flipped me.”
“Did you?”
“No,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter. They’ll hunt us both now.”
Eliya exhaled, bitterly amused.
“Cute. I always wanted a partner in exile.”
He didn’t smile.
“There’s no going back,” he said. “You know that.”
“I knew it the second I pulled the trigger in that alley.”
They stood there in the dim motel light—two former enemies now cornered on all sides.
Matteo broke the silence first.
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“I buried it,” she said. “Not in the city.”
“Where?”
“Off-grid. It’s encrypted. I only got one key. The other died with someone else.”
He looked at her.
“You’re sure?”
She met his gaze, unflinching.
“Matteo, if we go after it, we both die.”
He tilted his head. “Or we burn the whole gameboard and build our own.”
And for the first time in years, Eliya almost—almost—smiled.
- Writer
