Juliet stepped forward, the dim glow of the street lamp illuminating her face. Her sharp cheekbones and intense eyes exuded a fierce determination that momentarily made Adonis forget they were on opposing sides. She appeared as vengeance personified-delicate yet undeniably lethal.
"Why were you following me?" she demanded, her tone measured but firm. It was clear she sought more than just an answer; she was gauging his sincerity.
Adonis crossed his arms, unfazed by the chill of the night air. "If I said curiosity, would you believe me?"
"No," she replied without hesitation.
A half-smirk played on Adonis's lips. "Didn't think so. Let's call it insurance, then. I wanted to see if the renowned Juliet Moretti was as relentless in the shadows as she is on the streets."
Her eyes narrowed. "You think this is a game?" A PLACE OF INTENT
"Everything in Milan is a game," he retorted, his voice hardening. "The only difference is who gets burned when the pieces fall."
A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the distant wail of a train. Juliet's gaze scrutinized Adonis, not just assessing his stance or words, but delving deeper.
The quiet between them was laden with unspoken thoughts and emotions.
"I've been watching you," she admitted. "Ever since you got out. You walk like a man with nothing to lose. But your eyes tell a different story."
Adonis met her gaze, intrigued. "And what do my eyes say?"
She hesitated, then spoke softly. "That you've already lost everything once. And you're afraid it'll happen again."
Her words struck a chord deeper than Adonis anticipated. He despised how she could see through his facade, straight into the wounds he concealed even from himself.
Masking his vulnerability, he took a step closer, noticing the delicate tattoo on her wrist-two names etched in fine script. Her parents. Victims of the same forces that had tried to destroy him.
"We're not so different, Juliet," he said quietly. "We're both chasing ghosts."
She remained steadfast. "I'm not chasing. I'm hunting. And I won't stop until I bury the people who killed them."
Adonis believed her every word.
"I could help you," he offered, the suggestion escaping before he could second-guess it.
Suspicion flashed in her eyes. "Why?"
"Because the people who took them from you took everything from me too. Your parents were good, honest. The kind of cops that didn't look the other way.
That made them enemies of the people I was born to."
Juliet's expression shifted, a mix of shock and fury brewing within her. "What do you know about their deaths?"
Adonis paused, standing at the precipice of a revelation.
"I know more than I should," he admitted. "But not enough. Not yet. That's why I need you."
Her jaw tightened. "You're the son of Don De Luca. Your family is the mafia."
He nodded slowly. "And I've spent my entire life trying to destroy that legacy."
She looked away, fists clenching at her sides. "I should arrest you right now."
"You won't," Adonis said confidently.
She turned back, eyes blazing. "Give me one reason."
"Because you need me.'
The statement hit her like a punch. Her shoulders dropped slightly, and Adonis saw the internal conflict raging within her the part that hated him, the part that wanted to believe him, and the part that was simply weary of fighting alone.
He stepped even closer, lowering his voice. "I have access to places you don't. I speak the language of criminals, Juliet. I was raised in it. And now I'm using it against them."
"You're asking me to betray the badge," she whispered.
"No," he replied. "I'm asking you to use every weapon you have. Including me."
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of oil and stone. Juliet looked up at the moon, silent. After what felt like an eternity, she spoke.
"This doesn't mean I trust you," she said.
"I wouldn't expect you to."
"This doesn't mean we're on the same side."
"I'm not asking for sides. Just a chance."
Her gaze met his once more-sharp, unreadable.
Then, to his surprise, she nodded.
Then, to his surprise, she nodded.
Without another word, she walked past him.
"We'll talk tomorrow," she said, not looking back.
Adonis stood there for a moment, watching her disappear into the darkness. Something twisted in his chest-not pain exactly, but close. Like a bruise that hadn't formed yet.
He had opened a door tonight. Not wide. Just enough.
And behind that door was a woman who could either dismantle everything he had built-or become the reason he finally succeeded.