CHAPTER 65: LOVE IN THE CROSSFIRE

The night it happened was supposed to be ordinary or as ordinary as life could be in their world. A charity gala downtown, handshakes and polite smiles, Luca’s arm steady around Aria’s waist as cameras flashed and whispered rumors swirled. For the first time in weeks, she had let herself wear a real smile, not the brittle mask she’d been forcing since everything started falling apart.

She’d chosen a dress Luca loved deep crimson, elegant and bold and for a few hours, she almost felt like herself again. Not a target. Not a pawn. Just a woman in love with a man who had promised her the world.

The illusion shattered in a single heartbeat.

It began with the flicker of movement on a rooftop across the street. Luca noticed first, the faint glint of metal in the moonlight, the almost imperceptible shift in the air that his instincts had learned to read as danger. He didn’t think, didn’t speak; his body moved before his mind caught up.

"Down!" he roared, shoving Aria to the ground as glass exploded above them.

The first shot tore through the balcony railing where they had been standing seconds before. The second shattered a wine glass beside Aria’s head, spraying shards across the marble floor. Screams erupted as guests scattered, ducking for cover behind overturned tables and pillars.

"Luca!" Aria gasped, gripping his sleeve.

"I’m here," he said, crouched over her, his body shielding hers as his men surged forward, weapons drawn. "Don’t move."

"I’m not leaving you."

"Not negotiable." His voice was steel, but his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. "Stay low. Stay behind me."

The sniper’s third shot was silenced midair by a bullet from one of Luca’s men, who had spotted the flash on the rooftop. The air was thick with gunpowder and adrenaline as they moved quickly, forming a human shield around Aria and Luca, hustling them toward the back exit.

"It’s Matteo’s men," one of the guards hissed into his comms. "Confirmed visual on the rooftops. Multiple shooters."

"Get the car," Luca barked. "Now."

They burst through the service corridor, footsteps pounding, every corner a potential ambush. Luca’s grip on Aria’s hand was bruising, but she clung tighter, her heart hammering in her chest.

"I told you they’d come for me," she whispered, breathless.

"They came for us," he corrected, eyes scanning every shadow. "And they’ll regret it."

The waiting SUV screeched away from the curb as soon as the doors slammed shut. The city lights blurred past, distant sirens wailing. Luca’s jaw was clenched so hard it looked painful, his hand still gripping Aria’s as if letting go meant losing her.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Somewhere safe," he said. "Somewhere they’ll never find us."

The "somewhere" turned out to be an abandoned villa tucked deep in the forested hills outside the city — one of Luca’s many safehouses, known only to a handful of his most trusted men. The ride there was silent except for the hum of the engine and the relentless thud of Aria’s heartbeat.

By the time they arrived, dawn was bleeding into the horizon, painting the sky in muted shades of pink and gray. The villa loomed ahead like a ghost from another life, ivy crawling up weathered stone walls, tall windows shuttered against the world.

Luca helped her out of the car, his eyes scanning the tree line before ushering her inside. "We’ll stay here until it’s clear," he said.

"And if it’s never clear?"

His gaze met hers, steady and unflinching. "Then we make it clear."

The villa was eerily quiet, dust motes swirling in the pale morning light. It smelled faintly of cedar and rain, and the isolation pressed in from every side. No guards. No cameras. No noise but the whisper of wind through the trees.

For the first time in months, they were truly alone.

And for the first time since the shooting, Aria let herself breathe.

She stood in the center of the empty living room, still trembling from the shock, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from her veins. Luca watched her silently from the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets, the weight of what had almost happened settling heavily between them.

"Are you hurt?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "No. Just... shaken."

He nodded, taking a step closer. "I should have seen it coming."

"Luca..."

"I should have doubled the security. I should have swept the rooftops. I should have....."

"Stop." Her voice broke through his spiral, soft but firm. "None of this is your fault."

His eyes flashed with self-recrimination. "You could have died."

"But I didn’t." She crossed the distance between them and pressed her hands to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "I’m here. I’m alive. Because of you."

For a long moment, neither spoke. The world outside could burn, and it wouldn’t have mattered. All that mattered was this, the inches between their bodies, the thundering pulse beneath her palms, the unspoken truth that neither of them could survive losing the other.

Luca’s hands came up to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing away the tear tracks she hadn’t realized were there. "I can’t lose you," he whispered, voice raw. "Not now. Not ever."

"You won’t," she said, her voice trembling. "But Luca... I don’t want to keep living like this. Running. Hiding. Waiting for the next bullet."

His forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her skin. "Then we stop running. We fight back."

Her eyes closed, and for the first time in days, a fragile sense of resolve took root. Maybe she couldn’t change what she was born into. Maybe she couldn’t erase the target on her back. But she could choose how she faced it, not as a victim, but as a force.

And she wouldn’t face it alone.

The hours that followed felt suspended in time. There was no news from the outside world, no calls, no updates, just the two of them, marooned in a cocoon of isolation and vulnerability.

Luca built a fire in the old stone hearth, the flames casting soft gold across his features. Aria watched him from the couch, wrapped in a blanket that smelled faintly of cedar and smoke. He moved with quiet purpose, every motion deliberate, protective — a man used to taking charge of chaos and bending it to his will.

But here, in the soft flicker of firelight, he looked different. Human. Fallible. Hers.

"Do you ever think about what life would be like if none of this existed?" she asked suddenly.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "All the time."

"What would you do?"

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Open a vineyard, maybe. Somewhere in Tuscany. Grow grapes, make wine, live quietly."

She laughed softly, the sound breaking through the heaviness in her chest. "You? Quiet?"

He shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

"And me?" she asked, curious. "Where do I fit in that picture?"

His eyes softened as he crossed the room and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. "You’re there," he said simply. "In every version of the future I’ve ever dared to imagine, you’re there."

Her breath caught. "Even if I’m not the daughter of a mafia empire?"

"Especially then," he murmured. "Because none of this — not the power, not the bloodlines, not the empire, means anything without you."

Something in her broke then, but it wasn’t weakness. It was the last of the walls she’d built between them crumbling to dust.

When he leaned in, she didn’t hesitate. Their lips met in a kiss that was desperate and tender all at once, a collision of fear and relief and love too fierce to name. His hands cupped her face, hers fisted in his shirt, and the world beyond those walls ceased to exist.

They broke apart only long enough to breathe before he kissed her again, deeper this time, as if memorizing the shape of her mouth, the taste of her.

"Luca..." she whispered against his lips.

"Tell me to stop," he breathed, his forehead pressed to hers. "And I will."

"I don’t want you to stop."

The confession was soft but certain, and it set them both alight.

What followed was not the fevered passion of desperation, but something slower, deeper, a rediscovery of each other in the aftermath of chaos. Every touch was a reassurance, every kiss a promise renewed. Clothes fell away like armor they no longer needed, and skin met skin in a language older and truer than words.

They moved together as if the world wasn’t hunting them, as if they weren’t fugitives in their own story. And for a while, they weren’t Aria the heiress and Luca the Don. They were just two souls clinging to each other in the eye of the storm.

Afterward, tangled together in the quiet glow of the dying fire, Aria rested her head on Luca’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

"I needed this," she whispered. "Not just the hiding. Not just the safety. You."

His fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine. "And I needed to be reminded of why I fight so hard."

"For power?"

"For us," he corrected gently. "For the chance to build a life where I don’t have to throw you to the ground to save you from a sniper."

She smiled faintly against his skin. "That would be nice."

Silence settled over them, warm and comforting. The fire crackled softly, rain pattered against the windows, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Aria’s body relaxed fully into his.

They were still in danger. Matteo was still out there, and the war was far from over. But here, in this fragile bubble of stolen peace, they had each other. And that was enough.

Luca pressed a kiss into her hair, his voice a low vow in the dark. "Whatever comes next, we face it together."

"Together," she echoed, fingers curling over his heart.

And as the storm raged beyond the walls of the villa, Aria realized something vital: love wasn’t the absence of fear. It was the decision to hold on in spite of it.

They had been forged in fire, tempered by loss and betrayal and blood. But this, this quiet, unwavering bond between them, was stronger than any bullet, any betrayal, any enemy waiting in the shadows.

Love had brought them this far. Love would carry them through what was coming.

And as Luca drifted into sleep beside her, Aria stared into the flames and made herself a silent promise:

No more running.

No more breaking.

Whatever the crossfire brought, they would walk into it side by side, and they would come out stronger on the other side.