Elira's POV

"No... No," he whimpered. He was on his knees, hands shaking in front of him like he was saying a prayer. Tears and snot poured down his blotchy face, the sharp smell of piss already staining the air around him. His suit, once pressed and smugly tailored, was now wrinkled and soaked.

Pathetic.

I stepped closer, the soles of my boots clicking coldly against the stained warehouse floor. He flinched at the sound.

"Please—"

Wrong move.

I raised the gun.

The barrel met his forehead. I saw my reflection in his teary eyes and watched his face drain of all colour as I smirked. I pulled the trigger. The first bullet cracked his skull, filling the silent room with sound. Blood painted the wall behind him in red splatters. His body jolted, and he fell to the ground with his eyes open.

Then I emptied the rest.

Chest. Shoulder. Gut. Neck.

By the time I was done, there was nothing recognisable left above the collarbone. Just a lump of torn meat and shattered bone.

"Clean it up," I yelled at my subordinates.

"Yes, ma'am!" Three of my men rushed forward, slipping a body bag off their shoulders. They didn’t flinch. They’d seen worse. I made sure of that.

I turned away, already done with the mess. The stench of blood clung to the air. I hated that smell. Always had.

I walked out of the room, throwing the empty gun in one of the bins that sat by the way and took off my gloves, throwing them alongside the gun.

As much as I knew the blood I had on my hands, I felt freer after disposing of any evidence that I had killed someone. Hypocritical, I know but it helped me feel better about myself.

Out in the hallway, the lights flickered. My heels echoed as I made my way through the compound, passing steel doors, armoury rooms, and offices guarded by my best men. Every person I passed nodded, greeted, and stood a little straighter. Not out of respect. Out of fear.

Good.

I was not here to be liked.

My empire stretched from smuggled weapons in the Balkans to insider trading in the heart of Manhattan. Every deal, every body, every coin flowed through me. After my father was taken out, I rebuilt it from the ashes. Bigger. Stronger. Colder.

And unlike the old bastards who thought a preppy, good girl like me couldn't run this whole show, who'd run this place to the ground, I didn't make room for sentiment.

Except for Lucifer.

I pushed open my office door and was immediately greeted with a soft meow. The black cat sat on my desk, licking his paw, tail flicking. His emerald eyes locked onto mine.

"You’re the only man who gets away with attitude around here," I muttered, stroking his back. He purred, head-butting my hand. My expression softened for a breath.

Only he got to see that part of me.

My gaze shifted to the picture frame near the desk. My father, suited up, eyes hard but proud. I picked it up, brushing off the speck of dust.

"I did what I had to today, Papa. Just like you'd have done."

"I'd take them all out one by one. Anyone who dares to betray us" My fingers brushed his photo, memories rushing in of my father and me.

He had always thought it wrong to introduce me into this world of his. He had even tried to leave after he met my mother, but that would mean that he'd have to give up his life and my mother's too, but she was pregnant with me... So he stayed and it eventually got him killed.

He hid this life the best he could, but not before letting me know the basics of handling a gun at age thirteen after my second kidnapping. My father was the best in the world no matter how many lives he took.

Flashback

I pulled open the large doors, rushing in with my suitcases behind me.

"Marthaaaa, I'm back. I need your special fruit juice right now. The flight was hellish" I yelled excitedly, walking further into the building. I had just completed my degree in international relations and was ready to start working at Daddy's office the following Monday. It was all I had been preparing for all my life.

After my mother passed away from cancer when I was sixteen, Martha basically raised me.

She should be running up to me by now but the entire house was dead silent.

"Martha?" I walked over to the kitchen and saw no one there, and the cooker was on, the water in the pot was already over-boiled.

Something in my chest hurt and that was when I knew something was wrong.

I dropped my bags to the ground as I ran with all my strength up the stairs. I stopped in my tracks, placing my hand over my mouth and choking back sobs when I saw Martha on the floor in the hallway with blood pooling around her.

Her face was turned in my direction, and her eyes were open, looking as though they were staring at me, and she could see me.

I staggered towards her and fell to my knees, not caring that her blood was soaking up my dress.

"Martha? Martha, get up. Please..."

Tears fell from my eyes as I placed my head to her chest, confirming what I already knew.

She was dead.

I slowly got up to my feet and cleaned my tears, and as I thought of my father, the sound of a gun going off filled the entire house.

My brain went blank and I didn't know when and how my heels got off my feet as I sprinted down the hall to my father's office.

I pushed open the door to see two men in the room. Their heads turned to me when I burst in looking like a mad woman, and one had a gun pointed at the ground.

No, no, no, no...

My eyes slowly traced who he was pointing at, and the bracelet that I gave my father before leaving for college came into view, and my eyes watered.

"NO!" I screamed out, crumpling to the ground.

"What do we do with her? We were only instructed to kill the maid and the old geezer" one of the men spoke to the other who still stood over my father.

"We'll take her with us," he said in a boring tone.

I didn't know what came over me, maybe it was the rage of seeing the two people I loved the most dead on the same day and in less than a minute apart. Maybe it was realising that I no longer had a family, maybe it was realising that I was now alone, maybe it was the fact that I had my future taken from me.

All I knew was that I got up from the ground, walking purposefully to the bookshelf in my father's office.

The men watched me in silence as I pressed some buttons and watched a hidden vault open. I pulled open the door and took out my father's most prized gun.

He never knew that I knew of its existence.

"Shit, she's got a gun. What do I do, boss?" the other man started panicking, but the one who killed my father burst out laughing.

"Relax, she definitely doesn't know how to use it"

I checked for bullets and stared at him with the gun pointed in his direction, and with a tear-streaked face, I pulled the trigger.

The bullet lodged itself in his throat and he fell to the ground, dying on the spot.

The other hooded man was still in shock when he saw his boss dead.

"I guess I do know how to use a gun" I said to him humourlessly before shooting him between his eyes.

I walked feeling numb towards my father's dead body, bending to cradle his body in my arms.

"I killed them, Papa. I will kill those who sent them, too. I will kill them all."

I caressed his face gently, giving him a peck to his forehead before getting up and taking the telephone from the table and dialling the only last person I could ever trust.

"Nico. Come over to my father's mansion now."

Elira's POV

Present day

There was a knock at the office door.

I was in my chair, Lucifer sprawled across my lap, purring softly as I scratched behind his ears. I still reeked of blood and gunpowder from earlier, and I should really clean myself up, but I was exhausted and still had a lot to do, plus Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. He never did. My finger hovered near the small trigger on the hidden holster under my desk.

"Enter," I called, voice cold.

The door creaked open.

He stepped in. Tall. Lean. Hair dark, a little too perfectly messy. Jaw like it had been carved by sin and his eyes... Those dark eyes stared into my soul. I didn’t need to hear him speak to know I didn’t like him.

My gun was already out, trained on the space between his eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?"

His hands lifted slowly, palms facing me. Not a flicker of fear in his eyes. He didn't even flinch at my tone.

That unnerved me more than anything.

"Aiden," he said simply.

His voice was deep. Smooth. Polished in a way that screamed he was used to commanding rooms without lifting a finger. I hated that.

Lucifer flicked his tail once and meowed, unbothered as the barrel of my gun stayed locked on this stranger's face.

Then Nico stepped in.

Of course, I thought as I rolled my eyes.

"My lady," Nico said with a short bow, glancing between the gun and Aiden. "This is your new bodyguard."

Without warning, I repositioned my aim and I fired.

The bullet struck the floor between Aiden’s feet with a sharp crack, sending up a puff of dust. He didn’t even blink or step back from the fact that I just shot between his feet or it could have been his head instead.

Impressive.

Infuriating.

I let a smirk curl on my lips as I swivelled my chair around to face the large windows overlooking the compound, dropping my gun to my lap, keeping it away from Lucifer.

"I don’t need a bodyguard."

Nico sighed behind me. "Elira, please."

"No."

"After the last attack, you can’t keep refusing security detail. They broke into your hotel room. They planted a bomb under your goddamn bed."

"And I’m still alive."

"Only because you happened to check under the bed for bugs."

I turned back slowly. "Is it my fault I’m cautious?"

"It’s not about blame. It’s about preventing the next hit, Elira."

"I still don't want one" I retorted, adamantly

"Your father would want you to be safe and since you're my responsibility now, I have to keep you safe. This isn't up for a debate."

I swivelled back to face them and narrowed my eyes at Nico, making him flinch a bit. "Don't you dare bring up my father in this"

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration letting out a sigh.

Nico had been taking care of me since the day I lost everything. He practically trained me to be who I am today, and he does have some sort of control over me, but I'd like to think that he doesn't.

I flicked my gaze back to Aiden, who was still standing perfectly straight. He didn't give off any reaction regarding the conversation Nico and I just had or how I reacted at the mention of my father. He just stood perfectly still.

Something about him ticked every warning bell in my head. Not in the way normal men did when they looked at me too long. No. This was deeper and Instinctive.

"He gives me bad vibes."

"He’s the best, Elira. Former special forces, discharged after a mission went south. Then contracted for private intel groups. He’s never failed a single client. Not once."

I narrowed my eyes. "That's supposed to impress me?"

"It’s supposed to keep you alive."

I leaned back into my chair and exhaled through my nose.

"Fine. But if he breathes funny, I’ll kill him myself."

Nico nodded. "Noted."

Aiden finally spoke again. "Understood, ma’am."

I hated how calm he sounded. I hated that he didn’t look away when I glared at him. Like he was looking through me. Like he knew something I didn’t.

Lucifer hissed once. Even he was picking up on it.

---

That evening, I went to the underground shooting range in the compound. It was my form of meditation. Meditation with bullets. The kind that made my blood settle and my thoughts calm a bit.

I set up the targets myself, refusing help from the guards. They knew better than to offer.

I stood at the line, my Glock steady in my hand. Breathe. Aim. Fire.

Each bullet hit the torso, clean centre mass. Perfect as always, the enemy wouldn't have enough time to think to save himself before he bleeds out.

I comically blew the top of my gun like they did in movies, swirled my gun around my index finger and then reloaded my gun,' when I heard footsteps.

"Your grip was off," Aiden said, stepping closer.

I stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"Your stance. You're leaning too much into your front foot. That'll throw off your balance if you need to move quickly."

I turned slowly, eyes like ice. He was standing barely three feet away, gaze flicking to my hands.

"Show me, then," I said, sarcasm curling on my tongue.

He moved behind me, not touching, just gesturing. "Try this: shoulders looser, feet shoulder-width apart. Don’t overcompensate on recoil."

His voice was low. Close. Too close.

And for a second, I thought of the way his breath warmed the air near my neck.

Nope.

Fuck that.

I spun around and pushed him away from me. He didn't move a bit, not even by a muscle. How strong was this guy? This ticked me off beyond measure, so I raised the gun again, took aim.

And shot him.

The bullet lodged in his shoulder. He stumbled back, eyes wide for a split second as blood began soaking through his shirt.

"Shit," he hissed, dropping to one knee, clutching the wound.

I lowered my weapon and walked toward him slowly.

"Oops. My finger slipped."

His gaze met mine from the floor. Still no fear. Just a flicker of something else. Curiosity?

"I guess I need more practice," I said flatly.

Nico burst into the room seconds later, already yelling.

"ELIRA! What the hell?!"

I shrugged. "He was correcting my form."

Nico looked like he was going to lose it. Aiden was already pulling gauze from his belt pouch with one hand, pressing it to the wound without complaint.

"She shot you," Nico said to him, worried.

He must be thinking Aiden would want to quit. That would only make him a weakling if he actually does though.

Aiden nodded. "She missed my head."

And he smiled.

The bastard fucking smiled.

I turned back to the range, gun in hand, practising like Aiden and Nico were invisible and not trying so hard to patch up Aiden's shoulder.

He wasn't afraid of me. That made him dangerous and a threat.

And I wasn't sure if I wanted to kill him... Or keep him around just to figure out why he made my spine itch.

Elira’s POV

"Ms. Elira! Over here! Turn a little to your right! Goddess, who designed that dress? Give us a smile, Ms. Elira!"

"One photo, boss lady! Just one!"

I turned my head slightly, giving them the cold, calculated smirk I knew they lived for. The flashlights lit up like wildfire. I didn't slow my pace. Nico was already at the top of the steps, waiting, followed by two guards. The gala was well underway, and the orphans were being paraded to entertain the rich for the sake of charity. I hated these events, but we hosted them to clean the blood off our money, or so the press liked to say; they never knew about our true organisation, but everyone liked to think a thing or two.

The sapphire silk of my gown clung to every step. Backless, slit thigh, with hidden holsters sewn along the seams. Just because I dressed like a queen didn’t mean I came unarmed.

Aiden was behind me. I could feel him in the shadows. Nico didn't want him to be my date or even appear publicly with me he said it was better if he remained hidden.

Inside the ballroom, the pianist played the piano softly, crystal chandeliers glittering above a sea of people with masks, hiding their true nature and diamond smiles.

"Elira," Nico greeted. His hand brushed my shoulder.

"Nico," I replied, voice clipped.

"Looking powerful, as always," he replied with a smile and leaned down to kiss my forehead.

I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I moved to the edge of the dance floor, scanning the room. Luca had yet to show. Good.

Aiden lingered by the wall, blending into the shadows. One of the waiters passed with champagne. I took a glass, drained it in one swallow, and waited.

Of course, Luca eventually arrived, late, like always.

He sauntered in with that crooked smirk, a white rose pinned to his lapel and a predator's glint in his eyes.

"Beautiful," he drawled, stepping beside me. "You look like a goddess with that gown accentuating all your beautiful curves." his eyes traced my body with a weird glint in his eyes that I knew all too well.

"You do look like a don with that angry look too. Almost like the role fits," he said, leaning in to me and making me more uncomfortable.

I ignored him.

"Not much of a hostess, are you?"

I turned slightly. "This is a charity event. Not your personal runway."

He leaned closer, voice low. "You're not fit to rule this empire. You know that, right? No one's going to follow a woman."

I smiled tightly. "And yet, here you are. Still following."

His jaw clenched. Before he could say more, I excused myself. "Touching up my makeup. Don’t follow."

I turned to where Aiden was to catch a glimpse of him but he wasn't there. He sure does know how to blend in.

---

The powder room was empty. I stood before the mirror, fixing the curve of my lipstick when I heard the click of the door.

"I said don’t follow," I warned.

"Couldn’t help myself," Luca replied, stepping in.

I didn’t turn. "Get out."

"You think you're untouchable?"

He was behind me now. I saw him in the mirror. His hand reached forward.

"Luca—"

He gripped my arm and spun me, lips crashing down hard on mine.

I struggled immediately, kneeing him, but he anticipated it. Pinned me to the wall. My holster was under the slit of my dress, too far to reach.

"You need someone strong beside you," he hissed. "Not some trained dog you keep on a leash."

I clawed at his face. "Let. Me. Go."

His hands closed around my throat.

My vision blurred for a second.

Then a sudden, violent crack.

Luca dropped to the ground, unmoving. Aiden stood behind him, holding the butt of his pistol, breathing hard. For a second, all I heard was the ringing in my ears and the pounding of my heart.

"Is he dead?" I croaked.

Aiden looked down. "Unconscious. For now."

His eyes scanned my face, and for the first time, something flickered. Was that Rage and worry?

"Do you want him dead?" he asked quietly.

I swallowed. My throat burned. "No. Just... get him out of here. Quietly."

He nodded, already pulling a phone from his pocket.

Soon, two men walked in with Nico behind them. They began to help Luca up and out of the room while Nico looked at me apologetically.

"I'll do something about him."

I just nodded as I didn't know what to say to him.

Once everyone exited, Aiden and I remained, staring at each other till he stretched out his hand.

"Let's go"

---

Five minutes later, we were out of the building and in his black Audi. The car gave off the same vibe as its owner. Dull and brooding.

He drove. I didn’t ask where. Just stared out the window, arms folded tightly across my stomach. The silence was comfortable. Unexpectedly so.

The car pulled to a stop near an abandoned dock by the lake. Moonlight danced on the surface of the water. It was quiet. Still.

He got out first. I followed slowly, my heels clicking on the boards.

"This is where you dump all the bodies?" I asked dryly.

"No. Just come here when I need to remember what peace feels like."

He sat on the edge of the dock. I hesitated, then lowered myself beside him, the cold wood seeping through my dress.

"My mother used to bring me here," he said. "After my father died. Before she got sick."

I looked at him, surprised by the softness in his tone.

"What happened to her?"

"Leukaemia. Fast. She didn’t even make it six months."

I didn’t respond.

"You don’t have to say anything," he added. "I just figured... tonight, you might need air."

The breeze stirred my hair. I turned my head slightly.

"Thanks," I murmured.

The silence stretched, none of us saying a word when his shoulder brushed mine.

His face dipped closer and my breath hitched as our lips hovered.

So close. So fucking close.

And then, I pulled back. "No," I said. "Don’t."

He nodded but I saw the flicker in his eyes.

Something broke through that unreadable mask. Surprise. Frustration. Maybe... regret?

I stood abruptly. "We need to go back ."

What was I thinking? I'm the don, of the Italian mafia. Maybe Luca was right, saying I wasn't right to rule, I mean, look at me being swayed by a man about to kiss me?!

He stood up, dusted his clothes, and waited for me to walk ahead before he followed.

---

We drove in silence once again but if the last time was uncomfortable, this was worse.

I watched the houses fly by when I noticed something.

"Where the hell are you taking me?" I didn't waste my breath as I brought out my gun, pointing it at his head.

He chuckled. "You need to learn not to be paranoid all the damn time."

He pulled over and got out, not fazed that my gun was pointed at his head a second ago or I could have fired when he moved.

He opened my door and put his hand out for me to take. I cautiously took it and stared at him in confusion.

"Welcome to McDonald's. I heard your stomach grumble a mile back. Couldn't take you back home, hungry. "

What? Is he alright in the head?

A small smirk appeared on his face. "Yes, I am"

"Did I say that out loud?" My body felt hot from embarrassment.

"Yes, you did."

We walked into the restaurant and took our seats and I had the best time of my life since I took over from my father.

We laughed and talked all through. From the playful banter about what kind of fry was the best and how people realised popato tasted better in straw like shapes to arguing about what kind of gun had the best feel when aimed.

Maybe I was actually a bit too stiff, right?