The silence in the penthouse was heavy, like the breath before a storm. Ana stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself, watching the city pulse beneath the darkening sky. Rome glittered like a lover's promise—beautiful, dangerous, and impossible to trust.
Behind her, Hayden moved like a shadow, every step precise, controlled. But Ana could feel the storm inside him. It had been building for days—since the attack, since the betrayal, since she had seen him bleed for her.
She turned slowly, her eyes finding his. "Are we safe now?"
"No." His voice was rough. "But we're close."
The answer didn't comfort her. Safety was an illusion in their world, one that shattered too easily.
Hayden came to her, resting his hand against her cheek. "We're going to finish this, Ana. No more hiding. No more running."
She searched his eyes. "And then?"
"And then…" He exhaled, brushing her hair back. "Then we find out who we are without the fire."
Ana leaned into his touch. "I don't think I've ever known who I am without the fire."
"You're the girl who painted oceans," he murmured. "You're the woman who made me feel something again."
She smiled faintly, but the sadness didn't fade. "You terrify me."
"I terrify myself," he whispered.
Their lips met in a kiss that tasted of desperation and devotion. It wasn't soft—it never was with them. It was hungry, raw. Her fingers clawed at his shirt, pulling him closer, grounding herself in his heat. Hayden lifted her off the ground, carrying her to the couch as if she weighed nothing.
He lowered her carefully, but the storm in his eyes said there was nothing gentle about what he needed tonight.
"You still want me?" he asked, voice low, hoarse.
Ana nodded. "Always."
His lips found her neck, her collarbone, tracing fire across her skin. She gasped as his hands slid beneath her shirt, lifting it over her head. He kissed her chest, slow and reverent, and she arched into him, her body aching for more.
"I don't want this to be revenge anymore," he said against her skin.
"It never was," she whispered.
They undressed each other with urgency, shedding layers of pain and armor until nothing was left between them but skin and truth. Hayden's touch was rough but reverent, as if he needed to memorize every part of her to stay grounded. Ana responded with equal passion, her hands tangled in his hair, her body rising to meet his with every movement.
Their love wasn't tender—it was a battle. But beneath every thrust, every gasp, there was something deeper. A surrender. A promise.
They moved together like flame and oxygen—consuming, devouring, needing.
When it was over, they lay tangled in silence. Hayden's fingers traced the curve of her spine while Ana's head rested against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart.
"I don't deserve you," he said eventually.
She lifted her head. "Stop saying that."
"It's true."
Ana looked him dead in the eye. "Then be someone who does."
Hayden closed his eyes, pulling her close. "I'm trying. God, I'm trying."
---
Later that night, Ana stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in one of his shirts. The bruises on her skin weren't from violence—they were reminders of how desperately they loved. She touched her lips, remembering his kiss, the way he had looked at her like she was both salvation and sin.
Behind her, Hayden watched. "You look like you belong here."
She turned, smirking. "I do."
He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Then stay."
"I was never leaving."
A knock at the door broke the moment. Hayden's body went rigid. "Don't move."
He pulled on his pants and grabbed the gun beneath the couch. Ana's heart pounded as he approached the door, checked the camera feed, then opened it slightly.
Luca entered, looking grim. "We found the leak."
Hayden's jaw clenched. "Who?"
Luca glanced at Ana, then back at Hayden. "It's worse than we thought."
"Spit it out."
"It's your cousin. Matteo. He's been working with the Bratva. They're planning to move against us—tonight."
Ana felt the chill settle in her bones. "Why would he—?"
Hayden didn't wait. He was already dialing. "Get the men ready. Lock down every entrance. If Matteo wants war, he'll get it."
Luca nodded and disappeared as quickly as he came.
Ana stepped forward. "What can I do?"
"You stay here." His voice was sharp, but his eyes were pleading. "Please, Ana. Just this once."
She grabbed his wrist. "I'm not scared."
"You should be."
"I'm not."
He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "I can't lose you."
"Then don't leave me behind."
Hayden hesitated, torn between instinct and love. "Stay close."
She nodded. "Always."
---
An hour later, the penthouse was a fortress. Men with guns lined the halls. Security feeds flickered on the screens. Outside, the city was silent—but Hayden knew better.
He stood on the balcony, watching the shadows. Ana stood beside him, her hand in his.
"You ready?" she asked.
"No," he said. "But I will be."
From below, a single explosion shattered the night.
Ana's breath caught. "It's starting."
Hayden didn't move. "Let them come."
He turned to her, kissed her like it might be the last time, then whispered, "For my mother. For us."
She nodded, fierce and loyal. "Burn them to the ground."
And he would.
For her.