Chapter 3 Three

Chapter Four

The grandfather clock in the foyer struck twelve chimes, each echo carrying a whisper of danger through the silent Moretti estate. Jenny Parker pressed her back against the cold marble wall, heart hammering in the hush. She had slipped from her room under the guise of a restless night, dressed in black leather and lace, armed only with her wits-and the recorder tucked into her sleeve.

The moonlight fractured through the courtyard's silver gate casting light in the direction of San's favorite meeting spot-elegant on the surface, rotten at its core.

Jenny's breath caught when she saw him emerge from the shadow of an ancient olive tree. San Moretti moved with that lithe, predatory grace she'd come to recognize. His suit was gone; in its place, a fitted black shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked less kingpin tonight and more a man stripped of all pretense-dangerous, vulnerable, magnetic.

"Tara," he greeted softly, stepping into the moonlight. His eyes adjusted instantly to the recorder's faint glow under her sleeve.

"San," she replied, forcing her voice steady. "You asked for discretion."

He offered a half-smile, then nodded toward the fountain. "I need you to hear something."

He crouched by the water and gently lifted a loose flagstone. Beneath it lay a small, weathered leather-bound journal. Jenny felt her pulse shift-this was the kind of evidence Colhart had been begging for.

"Open it," San said.

Jenny knelt beside him, lifting the cover to reveal scrawled entries in Italian and tight lists of names, dates, and sums. Everything she needed: shipping manifests tied to shell companies, coded references to "Project Aurora," and a notation that sent a chill through her.

"Aurora - shipment departs Marseille, April 29."

Her mind raced. April 29 was two days ago. The Morettis had already moved on to their next big operation. To stop them, she needed location, cargo, and the players involved.

"Project Aurora," she whispered, flipping pages. "These shipments-are they art?"

San's jaw tensed. "No. Drugs. High-grade opioids. We've been running them through our art front." He exhaled, voice low. "My family's business. My legacy." His shoulders dropped, burdened by truth.

Jenny felt a flicker of something between them-sympathy? Guilt? Perhaps a shared understanding of loyalty's weight. She closed the journal softly. "This is it. Proof."

He stood there staring at her for a long time as though, deciding whether to stand back or move forward but instead he lifted his hands and caressed her jaw. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

She met his gaze. "I came here knowing the risks."

Their faces were inches apart-too close to think, too close to resist. They felt the heat amongst them while closely staring at each other. San leaned in as if asking for a kiss and Jenny closed her eyes as though saying yes, waiting for the heat from his lips.

Footsteps shattered the moment. Both of them snapped their heads toward the low hedge bordering the fountain.

Voices. Prominent. Urgent.

Jenny ducked behind San, heart leaping.

"San! Open up!"

A spotlight cut through the darkness, illuminating the courtyard in stark white. Two armed men in dark suits advanced, guns raised.

San's hand went to his hip, but Jenny grabbed his arm. "No fight," she hissed.

He frowned. "Stay close."

The men halted at the fountain's edge, training their pistols on the pair. One clicked his tongue. "We knew you wouldn't trust us, boss. Had to handle it ourselves."

San's expression is ice-cold. "Who sent you?"

The man sneered. "Does it matter? You're stepping out of line."

Jenny's mind spun. Family betrayal? A power grab? She edged to one side, pulling the journal into her coat.

Before she could weigh an escape, San straightened, tossing his arm protectively around her shoulders. "Let her go," he said, voice a quiet threat that rattled the men.

The second man sneered. "Moretti, are you going soft?"

San's grip on Jenny tightened. "You want me soft? Let her go."

At that moment, there was silence and two men stared at each other as though confused on what they were to do. Jennie stood closed behind Sam gripping the journal like her life depended on it.

Then, suddenly there was a gunshot, Jenny felt her heart stop to her stomach. San's head snapped toward the hedge-from which a figure emerged, silhouetted by a single beam of moonlight.

Out of nowhere, a woman showed up: Nora, Jenny's college friend who had gone missing a few months ago.

She took out a pistol and in a high tone to the two men, "Back off," Nora said, voice steady. "Now."

The hired guns hesitated-caught between San's fury and Nora's determination.

Jenny's jaw dropped. "Nora?" she whispered, stunned.

Nora's eyes flicked to Jenny, relief and urgency mingling. "Parker. Get down."

Jenny crouched behind San as the courtyard exploded into tension. The two men raised their weapons warily, unsure whose orders to obey.

San's eyes met Jenny's, a question and a promise: Trust me.

Jenny nodded imperceptibly and stepped out into the light, journal held high. "You want proof?" she called. "Here it is!"

The spotlight wavered as the men's attention shifted. Nora slipped a round into her pistol's chamber. San's hand moved to cover Jenny's, steadying the journal against her chest.

Time slowed. Jenny's heart thundered-but beneath the fear, a fierce clarity: this was the moment she either cemented her place as an ally or exposed herself and everything she'd risked.

Nora took a single step forward, pistol unwavering. "Let her live," she said to the men. "Back off, or I end this."

Silence crackled. The two men shared a glance-one hand hovering over his holster. Then, slowly, they lowered their weapons.

San released Jenny and advanced, voice low and cold. "You won't cross me again."

They fled into the darkness and beyond the gates. They found a little garden and sat in it for a while with the adrenaline still rushing through her body.

San looked at her concerned "are you hurt?" He asked

"No, are you?"

He exhaled heavily. "Nora saved us."

Jenny looked up in disbelief. "Why is she here?"

Before San could answer, a distant siren wailed-Colhart's team responding to the gunfire.

San's face hardened. "Go."

Jenny scrambled to her feet. "San..."

He took her hand, pressing something cold and metallic into her palm. A small flash drive.

"Everything you need," he whispered. "Take it. Get out. Meet me later."

Nora appeared behind him, slipping an arm around Jenny's shoulders. "Come on," she urged. "We move now."

Jenny hesitated, eyes locked on San's. His gaze was raw, torn between duty and desire.

She swallowed, tucking the drive into her coat. "I'll be back," she promised.

San's eyes darkened. "I'll be waiting."

As Jenny and Nora melted into the hedges, the first police cars screeched around the estate. The night had shifted-a fragile alliance forged in gunfire and secrets, but the war was only beginning.

And as Jenny sprinted into the darkness, she realized she was no longer just an undercover cop. She was part of the Moretti family's blood-stained story-and her own heart was the most dangerous asset of all.