The air in the villa was thick with tension—not the volatile kind that erupted into violence, but the kind that simmered, waiting to either shatter or burn everything in its path.
Hayden sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, his hands buried in his hair. His shirt was half unbuttoned, the fabric rumpled, his breath shallow. The weight of everything pressed down on him—his mother's memory, the blood he had spilled, the woman now sleeping behind him.
Ana.
She had fallen asleep after the storm between them had calmed. Her fingers had clutched his like she didn't want to let go, and for the first time in a long time, Hayden hadn't known what to do with the tenderness that bloomed inside him.
He wasn't built for love. He was forged in vengeance and war.
And yet, she slept like she trusted him.
He turned, his eyes tracing the rise and fall of her back beneath the silk sheets. Her bare shoulders were exposed, the marks of their night together still faint on her skin—evidence of passion that had gone far deeper than physical release. It had felt like surrender. Not hers. His.
He stood, walking to the window, the moonlight silvering his skin. From the cliffs of Positano, the sea looked endless, but even it had boundaries—shorelines that told it where to stop. He had no such thing. No boundary between rage and obsession, between love and destruction.
And Ana had walked straight into the eye of it all.
A soft rustle behind him.
"You're not sleeping," she said, her voice hoarse from sleep.
He didn't turn around. "Neither are you."
"I felt you leave the bed."
Silence stretched between them. Hayden closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw tight.
"You regret it?" she asked softly.
He turned slowly.
She was sitting up now, the sheet clutched to her chest. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders in tangled waves, her lips slightly parted. The vulnerability in her expression made something primal twist in his chest.
"I regret a lot of things," he said finally. "But not last night."
Her eyes searched his. "Then why do you look like you're at war with yourself?"
He didn't answer. Not right away. He walked back to her, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing her.
"Because you're the only thing in my life that doesn't make sense," he said quietly. "I had a plan, Ana. I watched you for years. I hated you before I knew you. I was supposed to use you, break you. That was the plan."
"I know," she said, almost too calmly.
"You're not angry?"
"I was," she said. "But then I realized… I've been living in the shadow of my father's sins too. I never knew what he did to your family. I didn't know how your mother died. You had every reason to hate me."
He reached out, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "But I don't. Not anymore. And that terrifies me."
She leaned into his touch.
"You scare me too," she whispered.
Their lips met again—not with urgency, but with aching need. This kiss was softer, slower, but the heat built quickly. His hands slipped under the sheet, pulling her close, her bare skin pressing against his chest.
Ana straddled him, her fingers sliding through his hair as she kissed him deeper. He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her lips.
"You don't know what you do to me," he muttered, his voice rough.
"Then show me."
His mouth claimed hers again, more demanding this time. The sheet fell away, and her gasp was swallowed by his kiss as he laid her back, moving over her like a man starved.
Each touch was reverent, like he was trying to memorize her. His lips traveled along her throat, down her collarbone, over the curve of her breast. Her nails dragged down his back, urging him on, and he responded with a groan of pure hunger.
He was losing himself in her—and he didn't care.
Not until the phone rang.
He froze.
The shrill, insistent sound shattered the moment. Hayden's eyes darkened as he pulled away, grabbing the phone from the nightstand. His voice was steel when he answered.
"What?"
Silence on the other end. Then a voice.
"They know where you are."
Hayden sat up straighter, muscles tensing. "What?"
"Ana's father. He sent men. Two of them were spotted near the cliffs. Armed."
Hayden's blood turned to ice.
"Get the perimeter locked down," he snapped. "No one gets in or out. I want eyes on every exit."
Ana was already wrapping herself in the sheet, alarm rising in her eyes. "Hayden…?"
He ended the call and looked at her, his expression instantly colder. "We're not safe here anymore."
She stood, clutching the sheet tighter. "What does that mean?"
"It means your father just declared war."
---
The villa transformed in minutes. Security doubled. Guns drawn. Doors reinforced.
Ana stood in the center of the living room, barefoot, hair still wild, dressed only in one of Hayden's shirts. Everything was moving too fast. Guards with headsets spoke into radios. Hayden barked orders in Italian.
She had never seen him like this. This wasn't the man who whispered against her skin just hours ago. This was the Wolf's son. The predator.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
Hayden didn't look at her as he loaded a gun with mechanical precision. "There's a backup property. Inland. He won't find you there."
"Us," she corrected.
He looked up sharply.
"You said he won't find *you* there."
Hayden hesitated.
"Don't even think about leaving me behind," she said, stepping closer. "Not again."
He didn't argue. Instead, he handed her a small silver pistol.
"Ever fired one of these?"
She nodded slowly. "Once. At a shooting range. I wasn't terrible."
"That'll do for now," he said. "Stay close to me. Don't talk to anyone. If something happens—"
"Nothing will happen," she interrupted, her voice firm. "Because we'll get through this. Together."
He stared at her for a long moment, something fierce flickering behind his eyes. Then he pulled her into a kiss—fast, hard, desperate.
"I can't lose you," he whispered against her lips.
"You won't."
The car was waiting at the back entrance. A black SUV with bulletproof glass and two armed guards in the front. Hayden kept her pressed close to his side, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. She felt the tension vibrating through him.
As the car sped away from the cliffs, Ana looked back once. The villa disappeared into the dark hills.
"You built all this to trap me once," she said quietly.
Hayden looked down at her. "I did."
"And now?"
"Now I'd burn it all down to keep you alive."
She didn't respond. She didn't have to. Her fingers laced with his, and in that silence, something unspoken passed between them.
A promise.
But neither of them saw the motorcycle tailing the SUV from a distance, its rider cloaked in black, engine silent as a shadow.
The war was far from over.