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Hope that she could love a man like me.

I nod, keeping my voice steady. “I will.”

She exhales shakily, but the way she nibbles on her lower lip tells me she’s still worried. Her fingers curl into my shirt as she takes a deep breath.

“And… look after Marco.”

I stiffen.

Does she still care about that piece of shit?

I don’t answer immediately, and I know she notices.

She sighs. “Marco is reckless. Marco is selfish, and he cares about no one. But he’s still my brother,” she whispers. “He’s the only family I have left.”

I run a hand down her back, trying to comfort her. Marco doesn’t deserve a sister like Aria. He’s too damn lucky.

“I’ll do both things,” I say finally. “I’ll come back to you and keep him alive.”

The relief in her eyes makes something tighten in my chest.

She reaches up, her fingers sliding along my jaw before pulling me into a kiss. But it’s not just a kiss—I can feel it. It’s a plea, a cry.

Her tongue seeks mine, her hands roam my body with an urgency that makes my chest tighten. She’s memorizing me, like she’s afraid this might be the last time.

I grip her waist, pulling her flush against me, taking everything she gives. Her body trembles slightly, but she doesn’t stop. She kisses me like I’m already a ghost.

And I try to tell her—through my kiss—that I’m not. That this is real. That what we have is something I never thought I’d find, but now that I have, only the devil himself will keep me away from it.

I pull away first, pressing my forehead against hers. “I’m coming back.”

She nods, but her eyes stay closed for a few seconds. When she opens them again, I kiss her one last time before leaving—before I lose the will to go.

Outside, the cars are lined up, engine humming in the quiet. Matteo opens the door for me, and a strong sense of déjà vu washes over me as we drive.

By the time we reach the docks, the feeling is even stronger.

I step out, looking at the stretch of rusted shipping containers, their long shadows stretching under the dim streetlights.

The last time I was here… I lost good men.

My men move with precision, melting into the shadows and taking their position. Matteo steps beside after a few minutes, his voice low. “Everyone’s in place.”

Across the dock, Marco’s men crouch behind stacks of wooden pallets, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim light. My men are stationed along the west side, weapons loaded, eyes trained on the empty stretch of road where our decoy shipment sits.

We don’t move. We wait.

The first sign of them is the sound of tires crunching over gravel. A black SUV rolls in, its engine a low, steady hum. Then another. And another.

Figures slip out of the vehicles, moving like shadows, silent and controlled. Their weapons are low but ready. They’re disciplined, careful—but something’s missing.

No leader.

I scan the group, my fingers twitching at my side. Whoever’s in charge isn’t here yet.

I lift a hand, signaling Marco’s men to hold. This needs to play out exactly as planned—no mistakes. No recklessness.

I’m not losing men tonight.