CAPTIVE IN DEATH & BLOOD

Chapter 4: Stealing from the Devil

Aria spent the next few days watching. Observing. She memorized the schedules of the guards, the way Luca moved through the house, when he stayed late in his office, and when he left. Every movement, every pattern was filed away in her mind like pieces of a puzzle she was determined to solve. The mansion was a labyrinth of luxury and danger, but even the most complex maze had a way out.

She noticed the way the east wing emptied at precisely nine thirty when the guards rotated shifts. She cataloged which maids had access to which rooms, which doors remained consistently unlocked, and, most importantly, Luca's own habits. The man was disciplined to a fault, adhering to routines with military precision. She realized he had a habit—every night around eleven, he went to the underground training room to spar. It gave her a small window of opportunity.

Aria wasn't just planning an escape; she was planning a heist. If she was going to leave this gilded prison, she needed leverage—something to ensure Luca wouldn't drag her back the moment she stepped outside these walls. And that leverage lay within his private office, where he kept the secrets that maintained his empire.

The Breaking In

The night she decided to act, she felt her pulse thrumming with anticipation. Dressed in all black, her hair tied back tightly, she waited in her room until she heard Luca's footsteps fading down the hall. Her hands trembled slightly—not with fear, but with the rush of adrenaline. She counted the seconds—one minute, two, three. Then, she moved.

Slipping past the guards was a calculated dance. They rotated their positions every twenty minutes, leaving brief gaps in their surveillance. She had mapped it out perfectly, timing her movements to the second. She slid along the shadows of the hallway, her bare feet silent against the cold marble floor.

She moved quickly, pressing herself against the wall as she neared Luca's office. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the handle. Locked. Of course. But she had expected this.

She had taken a hairpin from one of the maids earlier that day. A simple tool, but in the right hands, it was the key to secrets. She bent it carefully, inserting it into the keyhole with practiced precision. Her hands were slick with sweat, her breath shallow as she manipulated the tiny piece of metal.

Come on… come on…

The lock clicked.

A surge of triumph rushed through her veins as she pushed the door open, slipping inside before anyone could see. The office smelled like him—rich leather, wood, and something darkly masculine that seemed to permeate every corner of the room. A large mahogany desk sat at the center, papers stacked neatly, but her eyes were drawn to the cabinet behind it. The lock was a digital one.

Her stomach clenched. No hairpin could crack this.

She scanned the room, looking for any clue, any weakness. Luca was meticulous, but even the most careful men made mistakes. The painting on the wall—slightly askew. The books on the shelf were arranged by author except for one volume that seemed out of place. These weren't mistakes; they were deliberate. Luca was too calculated for carelessness.

Caught Red-handed

She moved quickly, searching the desk instead. She rifled through documents, her eyes scanning for anything with Deluca on it. The minutes ticked by, each one increasing her risk of discovery. Then, she found it—an unmarked folder buried beneath other files, as if intentionally hidden yet not impossible to find.

She flipped it open, her breath catching. Names, dates, and transactions. Her father's name appeared again and again, alongside bribes, alliances, and betrayals. The evidence of his corruption spread before her like a map of destruction. Her hands tightened around the pages. This is it. This is proof.

And then, the door clicked.

Her body froze. The air grew heavy, a dark presence filling the room like a sudden storm.

Luca stood at the doorway, his hand resting lazily on the handle, his expression unreadable. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with deliberate slowness. The lock clicked into place, the sound like a gunshot in the silent room.

Aria's breath came in short, sharp bursts. She clenched the folder, her mind racing through possible escapes, excuses, and defenses—finding none.

"You've been busy," he said, his voice calm, almost amused. "Breaking into my office. Picking locks. What exactly were you hoping to find, wife?"

His tone sent a chill down her spine. Not anger, but something more dangerous—interest.

Aria squared her shoulders, refusing to cower. "Something I can use against you."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but his eyes darkened. "And? Did you?"

She hesitated. If she lied, he'd know. If she told the truth, she was vulnerable. The silence stretched between them, taut as a wire.

Luca's gaze dropped to the folder in her hands. In a flash, he closed the space between them. Before she could react, his fingers curled around her wrist, gripping tightly but not enough to hurt.

"You have no idea what you're playing with," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as if they were sharing secrets rather than threats.

Aria lifted her chin. "I don't care."

He exhaled through his nose, amused. "No, you do. You just don't understand the stakes yet."

His fingers pried the folder from her hands effortlessly. He flipped through it, his expression impassive. Then, without warning, he walked to the fireplace and tossed the entire thing into the flames.

Aria lunged forward. "No!"

But he caught her waist, pulling her back against him as the fire consumed everything. She thrashed against his hold, but his arms were like steel bands around her.

"I could have ended your father with this," she hissed, twisting in his grasp.

Luca leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "You still can. But not like this. Not without me."

She stilled, processing his words. Was he offering an alliance? Or simply tightening his control?

A New Strategy

"You think you can fight me, Aria?" he murmured. "You think you can win?"

Her heart pounded against her ribs. He let go of her suddenly, stepping back as if she wasn't even a threat. As if her rebellion was merely a child's tantrum.

"I admire your fire," he admitted. "But you're reckless. And reckless people get killed."

Aria clenched her fists. "Then kill me."

Luca tilted his head, studying her as one might study a rare and interesting specimen. "No," he said simply. "You're far more interesting alive."

And with that, he turned, leaving her standing there, breathless and furious as the last of the documents turned to ash.

But Aria wasn't done. If she couldn't use the documents, she would escape. She needed a plan—something smarter, something he wouldn't expect. The direct approach had failed spectacularly. She needed subtlety, patience, and manipulation—tools she had once despised but now embraced as necessary weapons.

She had learned from her time in the mansion that Luca's guards were loyal, but they weren't unbreakable. They were men with weaknesses, with desires and fears. And men could be manipulated.

Aria had noticed one of Luca's guards, Matteo, was different from the others. He was younger, with sharp brown eyes that flickered with hesitation whenever he looked at her. He wasn't as cold as the rest. And that made him useful.

The Manipulation

She began with subtle steps. A smile here. A casual conversation there. She asked about his shifts and his routine, feigning innocent curiosity. She let him believe she was lonely, desperate for someone to talk to in this prison of luxury. She let him see cracks in her armor—not real ones, but the kind that would make him drop his guard, that would awaken his protective instincts.

Days passed, and she planted seeds of doubt and of curiosity. And then, when the moment was right, she struck.

"Do you ever get tired of watching me like a prisoner?" she whispered one evening when they were alone, her voice soft and vulnerable.

Matteo stiffened, his training warring with his humanity. "I don't question orders."

She tilted her head, letting her hair fall just so. "But do you ever wonder why you have to?"

Their conversation progressed carefully, a delicate dance of half-truths and calculated vulnerability. By the end, she had extracted a critical piece of information—Luca had a safe house outside the city where he kept his most valuable possessions. Including, perhaps, the real copies of the Deluca files.

As she walked away, her mind was already working, forming a new plan. She would find that safe house. She would get those files. And she would escape.

This time, Luca wouldn't see her coming.

What she didn't know was that as she plotted in the shadows, Luca sat in his study, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching the security footage of her conversation with Matteo. His lips curved into a smile as he watched her work her magic on his guard.

"Oh, Aria," he murmured to himself, taking a sip of his drink. "You're learning. But you're still playing my game."

He reached for his phone, dialing a number.

"She's ready," he said simply. "Prepare the safe house."

The trap was set. All that remained was for the prey to walk into it.