Back in Milan, the penthouse felt different.
The city lights blinked like a thousand watchful eyes, but Hayden didn't care. He was beyond watching now. He was hunting. And so was Ana.
The files from Paris had changed everything. Names, places, confessions. Whispers hidden in coded messages, proving the web of Alexander Nicholas's empire wasn't just criminal—it was insidious. Politicians, intelligence agents, even members of Hayden's own father's syndicate had blood on their hands.
But none of it compared to the discovery they found buried beneath years of encrypted data.
There had been a second target the night Hayden's mother died.
Ana.
She hadn't been a bystander. She had been collateral.
And someone had spared her—on purpose.
She stared at the screen in silence, jaw clenched, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes but never falling. "He tried to kill me too... and pretended to protect me all these years?"
Hayden watched her, his voice quiet but hard. "Because you were leverage. Against your mother. Against me."
Ana rose, pacing the room. "Then this was never just about your mother."
"No," he said. "It was about both of ours."
She stopped. "And what happens when we kill him?"
Hayden stood, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps. "Then we become him… or we destroy the whole game."
Ana's eyes searched his. "And what are you choosing, Hayden?"
His answer was not with words.
He took her hand and guided it to his chest. "I chose war. But now I want peace. With you. If I can still have it."
She looked down at where her fingers pressed against the steady thrum of his heart.
"I don't know who I am without hate," she whispered.
Hayden tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. "Then become someone new. With me."
---
Later that night, Ana stood alone on the balcony, wearing nothing but one of Hayden's shirts and the cool breeze on her skin. The city was quiet, the hour deep, and the chaos muted for a brief moment of stillness.
Hayden came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist, pulling her back into him.
"I thought you were asleep," she murmured.
"I never sleep when you're not beside me."
She leaned her head against his chest. "We've crossed too many lines, Hayden."
"And we'll cross more."
She turned to face him, her bare legs brushing against his. "Then let's not pretend we're good people."
He smirked, his hands sliding under the fabric of her shirt. "I've never been good."
"Show me," she whispered.
He lifted her into his arms without another word, carrying her inside with the urgency of a man claiming something that had long belonged to him. Their lips crashed again, fast and rough, fingers desperate.
He laid her on the bed, his weight pressing over her, and for the first time, she didn't fight the darkness—she welcomed it.
Not because she had to.
But because she *wanted* to.
---
The next morning, Luca knocked twice on the door before entering the suite.
Hayden was already dressed, his jaw freshly shaved, his mind sharp as ever.
"We have movement," Luca said. "Alexander's personal courier left Athens two hours ago. He's heading for Prague. We think he's carrying a ledger."
Hayden's eyes narrowed. "Intercept him. Alive."
Luca nodded. "And Ana?"
Hayden glanced toward the bedroom, where Ana still slept peacefully under the silk sheets. For a moment, the hardened expression on his face cracked—just slightly.
"She stays here. Guard her with your life."
"You trust her now?"
Hayden's voice was a low murmur. "It's not her I'm worried about. It's everyone else."