Chapter One Hundred and Five - Smoke and Silence
( Luca's POV )
The fire was still burning by dawn.
A low orange haze clung to the horizon, rising from Crane Street like the city itself was bleeding out. By the time Sienna came downstairs, the crew was already awake, too quiet, too alert. Everyone had heard by now.
She’d barely slept. Her shoulder throbbed from where the second man had twisted it, and there was a dark bruise along her ribs that made every breath feel like glass. But she’d cleaned up, tied her hair back, and put on fresh gear. No weakness. Not here.
Rafe looked up when she stepped into the war room. He was running new schematics across the table display, lines of red and blue tracing over the city grid. “We traced Anton’s last comms,” he said. “He’s been meeting someone near the docks. Not one of ours.”
“Morano’s?”
Rafe nodded grimly. “Or worse. Someone who knows how to stay invisible.”
Sienna crossed her arms. “Then that’s where we start.”
Kaia, leaning against the far wall, arched a brow. “You sure you’re up for it?”
Sienna’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m better than up for it. I’m angry.”
Luca entered a moment later, dark suit jacket over his tactical vest, the kind of contradiction only he could pull off, business and war stitched into one body. His gaze found hers instantly. “You’re not going anywhere alone.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” she said smoothly, though they both knew she had been. “But I’m leading this one.”
He didn’t argue, which was its own kind of warning. Luca Donovan never wasted words when he was on the edge of violence. He simply nodded once. “Then we move now.”
The docks were quiet when they arrived.
Gray water slapped against the concrete pylons, oily and cold. The sun hadn’t fully broken through the clouds yet, just a pale smear over the skyline. Perfect for ghosts.
Rafe and Kaia took the west perimeter. Luca and Sienna moved down the narrow walkway between two old storage warehouses, boots crunching on wet gravel.
Sienna’s breath came slow, measured. She kept her hand close to the holster at her thigh. Every sound seemed sharper here, the drip of rain from rusted gutters, the creak of chains, the low hum of a generator somewhere inside.
Luca spoke softly, without looking at her. “You sure it’s Anton?”
“I saw the feed myself,” she murmured. “His voice. His signal. And if it’s not him, then someone’s wearing his skin.”
He gave a faint nod. “Then we make them talk.”
They reached the edge of the pier just as a black SUV pulled up beside Warehouse 12. Two men stepped out first, guards, armed, scanning. Then Anton.
Sienna’s stomach turned cold. He looked nervous. Too nervous. Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt despite the chill. He was muttering into his phone, pacing.
“Wait,” Luca said under his breath. “He’s not meeting Morano.”
Another car approached from the far end, a sleek silver sedan that didn’t belong to any of Morano’s people. The passenger door opened.
A woman stepped out.
Tall, dark coat, gloves, hair slicked back in a sharp twist. Sienna didn’t recognize her, but the air changed the moment she appeared. Even Anton seemed smaller beside her.
Luca cursed softly. “Isabelle Crane.”
Sienna’s brow furrowed. “Who?”
“Morano’s broker,” he said. “And one of the few people who scares him.”
The woman’s heels clicked against the pavement as she approached Anton. “You’re late,” she said, voice smooth as oil.
“I had to make sure...”
“You don’t make sure,” she interrupted. “You deliver.”
Sienna’s hand tightened around her gun. “He’s selling us out,” she whispered.
Luca’s jaw flexed. “Not if we end this now.”
But before they could move, Anton’s panic exploded. “They know!” he shouted suddenly, voice cracking. “She killed three of ours last night, Morano’s furious, and he thinks...”
Isabelle’s hand shot out, and the sound of the gunshot cut him off mid-sentence.
Anton crumpled.
Sienna froze, the echo ringing through the docks like thunder.
Isabelle tucked her pistol away and turned toward the body. “Loose ends,” she murmured, as if it were nothing. Then she looked up, straight toward Sienna’s hiding place.
Their eyes met across the distance.
For a heartbeat, Sienna thought she’d imagined it. But then Isabelle smiled, slow, deliberate, and gestured to her guards.
“Move.”
Bullets cracked through the air. Luca shoved Sienna behind a stack of crates as splinters exploded around them.
“Go!” he barked, firing back.
Sienna ducked low, adrenaline flooding through her veins. “They saw us. She saw me.”
“Then we make sure she regrets it.”
She slid across the slick ground, came up behind the next cover, and fired twice. One guard dropped. The other retreated toward the SUV, spraying bullets blindly.
Luca took him out before he reached it.
The docks went silent again, except for the sound of Isabelle’s car speeding away.
Sienna stood slowly, chest heaving. Anton’s body lay sprawled near the pier edge, blood seeping into the cracks between the stones.
Luca approached him first, checking for a pulse. There wasn’t one. “He was trying to run both sides,” he said flatly. “And she cleaned up the mess.”
Sienna knelt beside the body, eyes cold. “She knew my name. That wasn’t an accident.”
“No,” Luca said. “It was a message.”
Sienna straightened, brushing blood from her gloves. “Then I’ll send one back.”
By the time they returned to the warehouse, the storm had rolled in for real. Thunder shook the windows, lightning painting the walls in flashes of white and gray.
Rafe met them at the door. “Report?”
“Anton’s dead,” Luca said. “Crane executed him.”
Rafe’s eyes widened. “Crane? As in...”
“Yes.”
Kaia whistled low. “That’s bad.”
“It’s worse than bad,” Sienna said quietly. “She looked right at me. That means she’s not just working for Morano. She’s working above him.”
Rafe frowned. “Above?”
“Someone with money. Reach. Someone who wants this war to burn both sides.”
Luca’s expression darkened. “A broker doesn’t move without orders. Whoever she’s working for, they want us distracted.”
Sienna moved to the table, spreading out the city map. “Then let’s stop playing defense.”
She marked three spots, Crane Street, the docks, and an intersection near the East Line. “She’s cutting a path through the supply routes. Morano’s next shipment is coming through here.”
Kaia leaned over the map. “And if we hit it first?”
Sienna’s gaze hardened. “We take everything. Supplies, routes, names. And we make sure Isabelle Crane knows the Devil’s Heir and his queen don’t run from shadows.”
Luca looked at her for a long moment. There was no softness now, just a quiet, lethal understanding. “You want to lead the strike?”
“Yes.”
He nodded once. “Then you have it.”
Hours later, the rain hadn’t stopped.
Sienna stood alone on the rooftop, wind tugging at her hair, watching the city lights shimmer through the downpour. Somewhere beneath her, the crew was prepping for the hit. But for now, she let herself breathe, just once, just long enough to feel it.
Luca joined her silently, stepping into the rain like he belonged there.
“She’s dangerous,” he said.
“So am I.”
He gave a faint smile. “You really think Isabelle Crane works for someone higher?”
“I don’t think,” she said softly. “I know.”
He studied her profile, the rain cutting silver lines down her cheek. “You’re changing,” he murmured.
Sienna turned toward him, eyes glinting in the stormlight. “No. I’m becoming what they made me.”
Below them, thunder rolled across the skyline.
Luca reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. “Then let them see what that looks like.”
Sienna nodded once, eyes locked on the horizon where the fire still burned from the night before. “They will.”
The storm swallowed their words.
But down in the heart of the city, where rumor and ruin ran faster than truth, a new story was already spreading.
That the Devil’s Heir had found his match.
And she was coming for blood.