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LUCIAN'S POV
The taste of her lips still remained

Even as the night air pressed cold against my face, I could still feel it—that accidental, unwanted, impossible kiss with Vivienne.

It had been clumsy. She’d fallen, I’d caught her, and for a heartbeat, the world had stopped.

I remembered the way she froze, the way her hands pressed against my chest like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to shove me away or pull me closer. And I remembered my own damn reaction. The softness of her mouth, the fire that sparked from the simplest touch.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

Vivienne Moretti was not my wife in truth. She was my partner in survival, my ally in this war, my tether against the wolves at our door. We were married to win—to keep the Riveras from devouring everything we both had left.

And yet, when her lips brushed mine, I forgot all of that.

I forgot the Riveras.
I forgot the Morettis.
I forgot the blood on my hands and the debts on my soul.

For a moment, she wasn’t my enemy, my partner, or my contract.
She was just a woman—and I was just a man who wanted her.

I had been drunk, yes. But not drunk enough to erase the truth: I had kissed Vivienne, and I had wanted more.

That thought haunted me more than I cared to admit as I moved through the docks. Word of the Rivera shipment hadn’t come easy—I’d pried it out of one of their lieutenants after a week of pressure, blood, and promises I had no intention of keeping.

He’d finally cracked, whispering about crates coming in under the cover of night, about a deal meant to tip the balance in their favor.

Vivienne didn’t know. Couldn’t know. She had a way of throwing herself headfirst into things, and I wasn’t about to risk her neck on intel I wasn’t certain of until this afternoon..

This was on me. Me and the men I trusted with my life. No one else.

The Riveras thought the docks were theirs to own. But I was about to remind them this city still answered to me.

Davide and Vito were close behind me. Vito’s presence was reassuring—he never panicked, never faltered. He watched every corner, every shadow, ready for anything. Davide, on the other hand, was tense, his hands gripping his gun a little too tightly.

The first two men appeared near the crates at the edge of the dock. I could see the glint of their weapons in the dim light. I didn’t hesitate.

Shadows wrapped around me, my knives finding their marks quickly, silently. One man collapsed into the water with barely a sound. The other tried to raise his gun, but my blade struck first. Precise, fast, and cold.

Vito and Davide followed as I slipped inside the warehouse. The air smelled heavy. Crates were stacked like walls, hiding men and danger at every turn. My gut tightened. This wasn’t going to be clean.

A shot rang out. The sound echoed off the walls. I dove to the side, rolling behind a crate. Vito was already moving, covering Davide’s flank. Davide ducked instinctively.
Two men came at me from opposite sides. I met them in the shadows,our knives flashing. One went down quietly. The other tried to stab me. Pain flared in my ribs when the knife grazed me, but I ignored it. Survival came first. I blocked, twisted, and sent him sprawling to the floor.

Gunfire, shouts, and the disgusting smell of blood filled the warehouse. Vito moved like a shadow. Davide hesitated, then fired, hitting one of the smugglers in the shoulder. He was learning, and quickly. I covered him, taking down a man who lunged at him with a knife. My side burned from the earlier scrape, but the adrenaline i was fulong pushed it away.

Finally, quiet. The warehouse smelled of sweat and blood. Men lay on the floor, still or twitching. Davide was breathing hard. Vito wiped his blade, scanning the room for any hidden threats.

Then, I saw it. A phone was buzzing violently, it half-hidden under the body of one of the men I had killed. I picked it up.

I answered.

The voice that came through was rough, like broken glass scraping across metal:

"Luuucian… Every hunt makes the hunter bleed. Careful, Luuucian… you’re running out of blood to spill."

The line went dead.

That voice. The same one from the Calavera foundry. The one that had my mother at gunpoint a few days ago. The memory hit me. I had instructed to find out anything about the calavera foundry but Davide had tried to track to the number instead, but he hadn’t been able to. I clenched my fists,

Blood ran down my side and stained my clothes, but I didn’t care. I was alive, and I had survived. But that voice—it reminded me that the war wasn’t over. Whoever was behind that voice was definitely taunting me, testing me.

I looked at Vito and Davide. “Move,” I said, “We leave now.” Vito nodded, already covering our backs. Davide hesitated for a moment, catching the tension in my gaze. Still He moved. He always moved when it mattered.