The Line Nobody Should Cross
2762 Words
Chapter 4 – The Line Nobody Should Cross
The door shut behind Serena with a soft thud, sealing her inside Leo’s private study. The room smelled of smoke, leather, and something unmistakably him—danger wrapped in desire. Shadows clung to the corners, thick and restless, mirroring the tension simmering between them.
Leo sat in the leather chair like a king in his throne, swirling the amber liquor in his glass. He didn’t look at her at first, letting silence act as its own test — its own threat.
Serena stood still, spine straight, pulse steady.
She had learned one thing in Leo Moretti’s world: power didn’t come from screaming.
It came from silence—and knowing when to break it.
Finally, Leo spoke.
“You handled yourself tonight.”
A slow, deliberate statement. Not praise. Not approval.
An observation.
Serena stepped closer. “I delivered results.”
Leo’s gaze flicked up sharply. “And you enjoyed it.”
She didn’t deny it. “Maybe I did.”
A faint smirk ghosted across his lips — the kind that said he knew exactly what she wasn’t saying.
“You impressed Mia,” he added, his voice low, threaded with curiosity. “And she doesn’t get impressed by anyone.”
Serena lifted her chin. “Good. That means she’ll stop underestimating me.”
Leo stood, setting his glass aside, his tall frame cutting through the room like a storm given form. “Mia doesn’t stop anything. She only hides it better.”
He approached her slowly, each step heavy with meaning, with the weight of unspoken things. Serena didn’t move. She refused to flinch.
When he was inches away, he murmured:
“You’re shaking the foundations of my empire without even trying.”
Serena’s breath caught in her throat—not from fear, but from the intensity of his presence. “If your empire is that fragile, that’s not my problem.”
Leo let out a low, dark laugh. “There it is. That fire.”
His hand rose, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek — a touch too gentle for a man like him, too intimate to pretend it meant nothing.
“And this,” he murmured, “is the part that will get you killed.”
Serena didn’t blink. “Or it will keep me alive.”
His jaw tightened, and for a split second, something raw flashed in his eyes—something he wasn’t used to feeling, something he didn’t want to admit.
“Serena,” he said quietly, “you are walking a thin line.”
“And you keep dragging me closer to it.”
The air thickened, charged, alive. His hand brushed down her arm, slow, deliberate, sending a warm shiver coursing through her. He was testing her. She knew that. Maybe she was testing him too.
Then—
A sharp buzz broke the moment.
Leo’s phone lit up on the desk.
His expression darkened instantly.
He stepped back, picking it up.
Serena saw the name flash on the screen.
Damian Cruz.
The air shifted.
Leo answered. “Speak.”
Serena couldn’t hear Damian’s voice, but she could hear the change in Leo—the way his breathing stilled, the way heat turned to ice.
“…Where?” Leo asked.
A pause.
His jaw clenched.
“Keep him alive. I’m coming.”
He hung up.
Serena hadn’t moved. “What happened?”
Leo met her gaze. “We found the man who breached the south warehouse cameras.”
Serena nodded slowly. “Good. That means—”
“It was Damian’s man.”
Her heart thudded once, hard.
Damian wasn’t playing in the shadows anymore.
He was stepping into the light.
Leo stepped toward her again, but this time the softness was gone. Everything about him sharpened—his tone, his expression, his posture.
“You’re not coming,” he said. “This is between me and him.”
Serena crossed her arms, refusing to back down. “You said you wanted me to handle things.”
“This isn’t your fight.”
“Everything becomes my fight the moment you put me in this world.”
Leo’s eyes burned with anger—and something dangerously close to fear.
She wasn’t used to seeing that in him.
It made her pulse race.
“This is a trap,” Serena whispered.
“I know.”
His voice was low. Controlled. Deadly.
“And I’m walking into it.”
Serena grabbed his wrist before she could stop herself. “Leo—”
He stopped.
For a single breath, the world froze.
Leo’s gaze fell to her hand on him, then rose to her eyes.
Something in him ignited—dark, intense, hungry.
Slowly, he turned his hand, his fingers sliding against hers, a silent admission that he felt the same pull she did. His voice dropped, deep, almost rough:
“Don’t ever touch me if you expect me to walk away calm.”
Serena’s pulse hammered.
“Then don’t walk away,” she whispered.
His breath hitched—barely, but enough that she caught it.
And then he leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers, his voice a dangerous promise:
“When I come back, we settle this. All of it.”
A pause.
“Don’t make me regret wanting you.”
He pulled away before she could respond, leaving her standing in the halo of the dim lamp light—breathless, burning, furious.
The door slammed shut.
Serena stared at it, her fists clenched.
Leo was heading straight into Damian’s trap.
And she couldn’t stay still.
Not when the two most dangerous men in her life were about to collide.
Not when she felt fire in her veins and danger in every breath.
Not when she had finally stepped into this world—and wasn’t planning to leave it.
Serena grabbed her coat, stormed out of the study, and headed for the garage.
If Leo thought she’d just stand by and watch him walk into a battlefield alone…
he didn’t know her at all.
This was her fire now, too.
And she was done being careful.
Serena didn’t sleep.
Even after Leo drove her home with a silent, unreadable fury resting beneath his calm, she lay awake replaying everything—Mia’s stare, Leo’s grip on her waist, the threat in his voice when he said “don’t test me.”
By sunrise, she had read every newspaper, scanned every digital headline, and forced herself through two cups of bitter coffee. Nothing helped.
What happened last night was no longer a secret between her and Leo.
It was spreading—quietly, like a rumor whispered in the wrong corridor.
The Moretti Family had seen her bleed beside Leo. They had watched him nearly snap a man’s arm just for touching her. They witnessed something that could not be undone:
Leo cared.
The one thing Leo Moretti avoided more than weakness…
was being seen caring.
---
The Call
Serena was halfway through tying her hair when her phone rang.
She didn’t need to look.
Leo.
She inhaled, steadied her voice, and answered. “Morning.”
His voice was low, rough—like smoke dragged over gravel.
“Get dressed. I’m picking you up in twenty minutes.”
She blinked. “I thought we wouldn’t—”
“No arguments.”
A pause.
“And don’t wear anything that covers your neck.”
Her hand flew to the faint mark on her throat—the one he’d left when he calmed down after the attack. A warning. A claim. A frustration.
She swallowed. “Why?”
“I want them to see.”
Leo hung up.
Serena stared at her reflection.
Whatever happened tonight, Leo was no longer pretending.
And she needed to understand why.
---
The Ride
Leo arrived early.
He didn’t knock; he simply waited leaning against his black Alfa Romeo, suit flawless, expression unreadable. But when Serena stepped outside, his eyes landed immediately on the mark on her neck.
His jaw tightened—not with anger.
With something darker.
He opened the car door for her without speaking.
As soon as she sat, he reached over, fingers sliding under her jaw, tilting her head slightly as if inspecting a wound only he had the right to see.
“You didn’t cover it,” he said quietly.
“You told me not to.”
His eyes lifted to hers.
“Good.”
He drove fast, cutting through traffic with reckless precision. The tension in the car felt alive—coiled between them, sparking with every breath. But beneath it was something new.
Leo was thinking.
Leo almost never thought silently.
He acted. He commanded.
Silence meant danger.
Finally, Serena spoke. “Where are we going?”
“To the docks.”
His grip tightened on the wheel.
“There’s someone I need you to meet.”
“Who?”
He didn’t answer.
Which meant she wasn’t going to like it.
---
The Docks
The air smelled like salt, steel, and secrets.
Steel containers towered over them, each marked with Moretti insignia or coded tags only the family understood. Men armed with rifles moved quietly along the perimeter, giving Leo a wide, respectful distance.
Serena walked beside him, aware that eyes followed her—but none dared linger long.
At the far end of the pier stood a makeshift table with documents, crates, and two laptops. A man in a dark overcoat waited there, his posture stiff, calculating, cautious.
Leo slowed.
Serena felt his mood darken.
“This,” Leo said, “is Lorenzo Valdez. Logistics chief for our imports. He found something you need to see.”
Lorenzo gave Serena a polite nod. “Ms. Reyes. A pleasure.”
She nodded in return. “What’s this about?”
Lorenzo clicked a key, pulling up a series of photos:
Exploded cars.
Blueprints.
Financial transfers.
And last—
A name written in red ink: DAMIAN CRUZ.
Serena’s blood ran cold.
Leo watched her reaction carefully, almost protectively.
“He was there that night,” Leo said. “On the street. Near the bar you visited.”
Serena stiffened. “You think he ordered the attack?”
“I don’t think.” Leo’s voice hardened. “I know.”
Lorenzo grimaced. “He’s been moving faster. Smarter. Someone is funding him heavily.”
Serena looked at Leo. “Your father?”
Leo shook his head once. Sharp. Deadly.
“He doesn’t play with traitors. Damian is rogue.”
Lorenzo cleared his throat. “One more thing. Ms. Reyes… you’re on his list.”
Serena’s heart thudded painfully. “What list?”
Lorenzo turned the laptop.
On the screen was a document labeled Priority Targets.
Under Category A — High Value:
1. Leonardo Moretti
2. Serena Reyes
3. Mia Chavez
4. Carlo De Luca
Serena stared. “Why am I above Mia?”
Leo answered before Lorenzo could.
“Because you matter to me,” he said quietly.
The words shocked even him—Serena saw it in the slight widening of his eyes.
Lorenzo quickly excused himself, stepping away to give them distance.
Serena faced Leo. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
“Leo—”
He stepped closer, voice low.
“Damian Cruz thinks he can get to me through you. That’s what this is. That’s why he targeted you that night. And that’s why—”
His hand closed gently around her waist.
“I need you close.”
She exhaled shakily. “Because you’re protecting me?”
“No.”
His eyes dropped to her lips.
“Because I’m done pretending I don’t want you near me.”
Her pulse stumbled.
The world seemed to shrink around them—the crates, the guards, the sea breeze, all falling away until there was only Leo and the tension suffocating the air between them.
“Say something,” Leo murmured.
Serena swallowed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to admit you feel it too.”
Her voice trembled, but not from fear.
“What if I do?”
Leo’s breath hitched—the smallest slip
but a devastating one.
Then he stepped back suddenly, jaw clenched.
“We’re leaving.”
“Leo—”
“Now.”
He was protecting her…
and also protecting himself.
But from what?
The Interruption
They didn’t even reach the car.
A gunshot cracked the air.
Sharp. Echoing. Close.
Serena flinched.
Leo reacted instantly—grabbing her wrist, pulling her behind a stack of metal crates.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
“Leo—”
“Don’t move.”
His men scrambled, shouting orders. The docks became chaos—guns lifted, shadows shifting. Leo peeked from behind the crate, eyes sharp, calculating.
Then another shot—closer this time.
Followed by a mocking whistle.
A silhouette appeared on top of a cargo container.
Tall. Muscular. Wearing a blood-red jacket.
A familiar voice carried through the air.
“Relax, Leo! Just wanted to make sure you read my message!”
Serena’s stomach dropped.
Damian Cruz.
Leo stepped out, gun in hand. “Come down and face me.”
Damian laughed.
“I will. Eventually. But today?”
He pointed to Serena.
“Today I just wanted to see the woman who makes the great Leonardo Moretti lose control.”
Leo raised his gun.
“Touch her,” Leo said coldly, “and I will carve you out of the city.”
Damian grinned.
“I’m counting on it.”
Before anyone could fire, Damian dropped a smoke bomb, masking the area in thick gray clouds. Leo lunged forward, but it was too late. Damian slipped into the darkness like a ghost.
The smoke faded.
The air stilled.
The silence was deafening.
Leo turned to Serena, fury and fear colliding in his eyes.
“He saw you,” Leo muttered. “He’s getting bolder.”
Serena whispered, “He knows my face now.”
“He won’t get close,” Leo vowed. “I won’t let him.”
But his hands were trembling.
Leo Moretti never trembled.
The Breakdown
They returned to the car in silence.
Only when they were inside did Leo finally break.
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, muscles tense with rage. “He was right there. Right f*****g there.”
Serena reached for his arm. “Leo, stop—”
“Do you understand what this means?!”
His voice cracked—not from anger.
From something far rarer.
Fear.
“If he had a sniper—if he planned that better—you could’ve—”
He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair.
Serena whispered, “Leo… I’m okay.”
“No,” he said, breathing hard. “You’re not okay. You’re a target.”
He leaned back, eyes on the roof of the car, voice tight with emotion he didn’t want to show.
“I’ve lost people before. But if he touches you—Serena, I swear—”
He stopped, swallowing the rest.
Serena touched his cheek gently.
He flinched—not away, but in surrender.
“Leo,” she said softly, “look at me.”
He did.
“You’re not losing me,” she whispered.
The Almost Kiss
Something in him snapped—not violently, but vulnerably.
Leo leaned in slowly, as if fighting himself with every inch. His hand rose, tracing her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip. His breath mingled with hers, warm and trembling.
“Tell me not to,” he whispered.
Serena’s heart hammered. “Why?”
“Because if I kiss you now…”
He exhaled shakily.
“I won’t stop.”
Her lips parted in silent shock.
Leo’s forehead pressed gently against hers.
“I shouldn’t want you. Damian knows your name now. You’re already too close. And yet…”
His hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer.
“…I can’t stay away from you anymore.”
Serena felt the world tilt.
“Leo…”
His lips hovered a breath away.
One inch.
Half an inch.
A whisper.
Then—
His phone rang.
Leo froze. His jaw tightened with pure murderous frustration. He forced himself back, answering sharply.
“What?”
Serena watched the shift in his expression—anger replaced by something colder.
“Understood,” he said.
Then he hung up.
“What happened?” she asked.
Leo looked at her with a chilling calm.
“Mia’s been taken.”
- Writer
