Aria had never thought of herself as someone who spied. She wasn't nosy by nature—curious, sure, but respectful. Yet ever since Marco's visit, ever since Leon admitted, in his quiet, terrifying way, that he moved in the shadows, she had been more alert. Watching. Listening. Waiting.
Leon had gone out that evening—something about a meeting he "couldn't reschedule." No details, of course. No names. Just a kiss on her temple and a lock of his jaw that told her it wasn't a business dinner.
Aria sat on the edge of the bed long after the door closed, the silence loud around her. She should've felt safe in his penthouse—a fortress of glass and steel above the city—but she didn't. Not anymore.
Not when she knew there was a gun in the closet.
Not when she knew men like Marco came knocking in the dark.
And not when Leon looked at her like he wanted to love her—but was too afraid of what that love might destroy.
She grabbed her coat.
She told herself it was just a walk.
But she took her phone with her. And she knew where Leon had parked.
The city was misty and cold, the rain nothing more than a silver breath hanging in the streetlights. Aria took a cab, asked the driver to follow at a distance when she spotted Leon's sleek black Maserati a few blocks ahead. She didn't even have to try hard to track him.
He led her to the kind of street people with lives like hers didn't go down. Narrow. Dim. Old buildings with shuttered windows. The kind of place where secrets festered.
His car disappeared into a warehouse garage.
Aria got out a block away and made her way on foot, keeping close to the shadows. Her heart hammered in her ears.
She didn't expect to get close. Didn't expect to see anything at all.
But one of the side doors was ajar.
She slipped inside.
The warehouse was cavernous and dimly lit, crates stacked high like a smuggler's graveyard. Voices echoed—Leon's, low and commanding. And another man's, angry, slurred. Italian. Or maybe Russian.
Aria crouched behind a pillar, creeping forward inch by inch until she could see them.
Leon stood in the middle of the floor, dressed in black, calm as a priest at a funeral. Three other men surrounded a fourth—on his knees, blood on his face. A betrayal had happened. That much was clear from the venom in Leon's tone.
"You were told to wait. You didn't." His voice was colder than she had ever heard it.
The man on the ground spat something in another language. One of the guards hit him. Hard.
Leon didn't flinch.
"I don't give warnings twice," he said.
Then he pulled a gun from his coat.
Aria stifled a gasp.
The warehouse spun around her.
This wasn't some "old world business." This was organized. Ruthless. Leon wasn't just part of it.
He led it.
The man on the floor sobbed something. Pleading.
Leon's eyes didn't waver. "You put my name in someone else's mouth. You made this messy."
The gun cocked.
Aria turned away, pressing her hands over her ears.
She didn't hear a shot.
But she felt something inside her splinter.
Back in the penthouse, she didn't sleep.
She showered twice, even though she hadn't been touched.
She didn't wait for him, not really—but when the front door finally opened at 3:07 a.m., her heart leapt into her throat.
Leon entered like he always did. Calm. Composed. Untouched by whatever horrors he'd left behind.
But something flickered in his eyes when he saw her awake.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he said quietly.
"You didn't," Aria replied. "I couldn't sleep."
He crossed the room and kissed her forehead. She flinched.
He noticed.
"You okay?"
Aria forced a smile. "Just tired."
He studied her for a long moment. "You sure?"
She nodded.
But she wasn't.
Because she had seen something tonight.
Something she could never unsee.
And for the first time, Aria wasn't just falling for a man with secrets—
She was in love with a monster.
And she didn't know how to leave.