Chapter Six: When Lovers Become Targets
584 Words
Elena Vargas returned home as a daughter.
She came back as a weapon.
The Vargas compound sat deep in the mountains, surrounded by armed guards and iron gates. It had always felt like a fortress. Now it felt like a prison.
Her mother waited in the grand hall, dressed in black, her expression unreadable.
“You chose him,” her mother said.
“I chose myself,” Elena replied.
Her mother stepped closer, studying her like a general examining a soldier. “He sent you back.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Elena frowned. “Good?”
“Yes. It means he’s weak enough to care and strong enough to push you away. That makes him dangerous.”
Elena crossed her arms. “You started this war.”
Her mother smiled faintly. “I finished it.”
⸻
Across the ocean, Luca Moretti stood in a private war room beneath his family estate.
Screens showed shipments, territories, threats.
And one photo.
Elena.
Marco leaned against the table. “Vargas shipments are increasing in Europe.”
“Let them,” Luca said.
“They’re testing you.”
“They’re using her.”
Marco hesitated. “Do you still care?”
Luca stared at her photo.
“Yes.”
⸻
Weeks passed.
Elena trained harder than ever.
Shooting. Strategy. Negotiation. Execution.
She sat in meetings where men twice her age listened to her every word.
The cartel saw her as the heir.
She saw herself as a storm waiting to break.
Her mother watched from the shadows, proud.
“Moretti territory is expanding,” her mother said one night.
Elena looked up. “He’s responding.”
“Yes.”
Silence hung between them.
“Would you kill him if I ordered it?” her mother asked calmly.
Elena’s hand tightened on the glass.
“Yes,” she lied.
Her mother nodded. “Good.”
⸻
Luca stood on a rooftop in Milan, watching the city lights.
A message popped up on his secure phone.
Unknown: Milan. Tomorrow. Midnight. Same storm.
His heart stopped.
Only one person used metaphors like that.
⸻
The rain started again.
Just like the night they met.
Luca stood under the same café awning.
Waiting.
She appeared from the shadows, wearing black, hair pulled back, eyes sharper than before.
“Elena,” he whispered.
“Luca.”
They stared at each other, the city fading away.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“Neither should you.”
She stepped closer. “Your people are crossing into Vargas territory.”
“You crossed into my heart first.”
She laughed softly. “That was a mistake.”
“Was it?”
They stood inches apart, tension crackling.
“I’m not the same girl you sent away,” she said.
“I know.”
She looked at him. “Next time we meet, it might be on opposite sides of a battlefield.”
He reached for her hand. “Then don’t let it be next time.”
She hesitated, then took his hand.
For a moment, they were just two people under the storm again.
Then she pulled away.
“We can’t keep doing this.”
He nodded slowly. “No. But we will.”
She turned and disappeared into the rain.
⸻
From a rooftop nearby, a sniper watched them through a scope.
A woman’s voice crackled in his ear.
“Do you have a clear shot?”
“Yes.”
“Take it.”
The sniper aimed.
At Luca.
- Writer
