Leon Moretti sat behind the massive mahogany desk in his penthouse office, the city lights bleeding in through the floor-to-ceiling windows like veins of fire. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of his encrypted phone buzzing repeatedly—messages from his men, updates on Daniel Monroe's whereabouts.
He lit a cigar, the embers glowing red as he exhaled a plume of smoke that coiled and twisted like the threats weaving through his life. Daniel was elusive, but Leon's patience was endless. Every shadow, every whisper in the underworld, pointed to one truth: Daniel was planning something. Something big.
"Tell the men to tighten the perimeter around Ayla. No mistakes," Leon muttered, eyes narrowing.
He pushed himself up, pacing with the controlled fury of a predator. The photograph tucked inside his jacket burned a hole in his pocket—Ayla's younger self, bruised but unbroken. It was a reminder of everything at stake.
The man she had been—the secrets she kept—could destroy the fragile life Leon was building around her. But he would not let that happen. Not while he still held the power.
Leon's voice was cold but resolute as he called his right-hand, Nico. "I want surveillance on every contact she's made recently. If Daniel tries to reach her through anyone, I want to know."
Nico's reply was clipped but confident. "Already done. We have eyes everywhere."
Leon nodded once, then turned to the cityscape. The mafia empire he ruled was built on fear and respect, but this was personal now. Ayla was not just a pawn in his game—she was the flame that could burn down his world or light the way forward.
He clenched his fists. "No one hurts her."
⸻
POV: Ayla
The early morning sun filtered weakly through the grimy window of the training room. Sweat dripped down Ayla's temples as she pushed herself through another grueling round of combat drills. Her body moved with a fierce precision—muscles taut, mind razor-sharp.
She was no longer the innocent girl hiding from her past. The scars Daniel left were etched deep inside, but they fueled a fire that refused to die.
Her reflection in the cracked mirror showed a woman transformed—bold, sassy, dangerous. The days of running were over. Every punch, every kick, every breath she took was a declaration: she would fight.
Her phone buzzed on the bench. A text from Nico: Leon says stay alert. He's tightening security.
She swallowed hard, the weight of their world pressing down again. But instead of fear, there was determination.
Tonight, she would meet with some of Leon's trusted allies to discuss the next steps. She had to be ready—not just to protect herself but to stand beside Leon when Daniel resurfaced.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. It was Mira, her closest friend and confidante.
"You're pushing too hard," Mira said, eyes soft but firm. "Don't lose yourself in this."
Ayla shook her head. "I'm finding myself, Mira. For the first time in years."
Mira smiled sadly. "Just don't forget who you are underneath the fire."
Ayla's eyes glittered with resolve. "I won't."