Chapter 5 – The First Lie
752 Words
Rose’s hands trembled as she turned the key to lock the shop that evening. The sun had dipped below the New York skyline, casting long shadows across the wet pavement. The streetlamps flickered to life, one by one—each one a soft, golden eye in the darkness.
She glanced over her shoulder.
The black car was still there.
All day it had loomed across the street. Subtle, but unmistakable. Watching. Waiting. The man behind the wheel never left, though she never saw his face clearly.
She could feel him though.
Luciano.
His presence was like smoke—clinging to her skin even when he wasn’t there.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
The voice made her jump. Estelle.
Rose swallowed. “It’s nothing.”
Estelle raised an eyebrow. “The last time someone said that in this family, your aunt went to jail for five years.”
“It’s not like that,” Rose said quickly.
“No?” Her grandmother’s tone was deceptively gentle. “Then why do you keep looking at that car like it’s going to explode?”
Rose hesitated.
She didn’t know how to explain any of it. Didn’t know how to admit that the man she’d bandaged up in a storage room was a Moretti. That she was now tied—by blood and secrets—to a family that ruled the criminal underworld with an iron fist.
So she lied.
“It’s a... customer,” she said. “Big spender. Wants some custom arrangements.”
Estelle studied her for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Mmh. Alright then. Just remember, even roses have thorns, mon cœur.”
Rose hugged her grandmother goodnight and headed upstairs to the small apartment above the shop. The moment she closed the door behind her, she sagged against it, breathing hard.
What the hell was she doing?
She knew she should call someone. The police. Her father, even. But her instincts screamed otherwise.
Luciano had told her she was in danger. And somehow, she believed him more than she trusted the people meant to protect her.
She stared at the phone number on the card.
Should she call him?
Before she could decide, her phone vibrated.
Unknown Number
Her stomach dropped.
She answered. “Hello?”
“I told you not to go anywhere alone.”
His voice.
Luciano.
“You’re watching me?” she asked, more breath than sound.
“Yes. And you’ve got five seconds to get away from that window.”
“What—?”
Before she could finish, glass shattered behind her.
Rose dropped to the floor with a scream as the window exploded inward, shards raining over the hardwood. A bullet embedded itself in the opposite wall.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
“Rose!” Luciano’s voice barked in her ear. “Are you hurt?”
“N-no,” she stammered, crawling away from the broken glass. “What the hell was that?”
“Someone trying to send a message.”
“Oh my God—”
“Stay down. Don’t hang up. I’m on my way.”
The line went dead.
Rose curled behind the couch, heart racing, tears welling behind her eyes. She wasn’t just being watched.
She was being hunted.
---
Twenty Minutes Later
Luciano burst through the door like a storm. He didn’t knock. He didn’t hesitate.
His gun was drawn, eyes wild until they landed on her.
She was crouched in the corner, shaking.
He dropped to his knees beside her. “You’re okay. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”
She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt his arms around her—strong, steady, grounding her like an anchor in a sea of chaos.
“I-I thought—”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I know.”
He held her close, his hand running through her hair as her sobs shook against his chest.
Minutes passed.
Finally, she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “You said I was safe.”
Luciano’s jaw tightened. “I was wrong.”
“Why would someone shoot at me?”
His voice was low and filled with rage. “Because I care about you. And in my world, that makes you a target.”
Rose stared at him, the weight of his words sinking deep into her bones.
She wasn’t collateral.
She was leverage.
And this wasn’t just a warning.
It was a declaration of war.
---
- Writer
