---

The morning sunlight had barely begun to warm the city skyline when Aiden stirred awake. He turned over, expecting the bed beside him to be empty, but there she was—Lyra, wrapped in a silk robe, sipping coffee like she hadn’t just flipped his world upside down.

“You’re still here,” he murmured.

She raised an eyebrow over the rim of her cup. “Disappointed?”

“Surprised,” he said honestly. “After last night, I half expected you to vanish like a dream.”

Lyra gave a quiet laugh—low, guarded. “I don’t disappear, Aiden. That was your thing.”

He winced at the jab but nodded. “Fair. That’s why I want to make it right. Let me take you out.”

She tilted her head, studying him carefully. “You want to date me now?”

“I want to apologize. And maybe see if we can start over.”

Her heart twisted. He still had that earnestness in his eyes, the kind that made her forget how many lives she’d taken, how much power she held in the city’s shadows. To him, she was just Lyra—his childhood fiancée, the girl he left behind.

And she intended to keep it that way.

“Alright,” she said softly. “One date.”

He smiled. “Tonight?”

“I’ll send a car.”

He didn’t notice the way her phone buzzed a second later, or how she subtly tilted the screen to the side. A message flashed briefly: Shipment intercepted. Two bodies. Orders?

Lyra swiped it away without blinking, her gaze still fixed on Aiden’s smile.

She had waited ten years for this moment. She wouldn’t let her empire ruin it.

Not yet.

---

That evening, a sleek black car pulled up in front of Aiden’s condo right on time. The driver, dressed in an immaculately tailored suit, didn’t speak a word—just opened the door and nodded.

Aiden raised an eyebrow but said nothing. It felt a bit too polished for a simple dinner date, but Lyra had always had a taste for elegance.

He arrived at the restaurant—a rooftop garden glowing with warm amber lights, surrounded by ivy-covered walls and the soft hum of a live violinist. The skyline stretched out around them, a quiet promise that the city belonged to whoever dared to take it.

She was already waiting at their table.

Lyra looked like she belonged in a magazine—black dress, delicate jewelry, and an air of control that could silence a room. Yet the moment she saw him, her expression softened, if only slightly.

“You clean up well,” she said, sipping from a glass of wine.

“You booked out an entire rooftop for a date,” he replied, sitting across from her. “Are you trying to impress me or intimidate me?”

“Can’t I do both?”

He chuckled, relaxing a bit. “So what have you been doing all these years?”

She leaned back. “Running my company. Expanding into international markets. Keeping busy.”

He nodded, not pushing further. “Still hate chocolate?”

She smiled at the memory. “Only the cheap kind.”

Their conversation flowed easily—old memories, what-ifs, stolen glances. For a while, it almost felt normal. Almost.

But Lyra felt the pressure in every beat of silence. Her phone buzzed once in her clutch. She didn’t check it. She couldn’t risk it. Not tonight.

“You’ve changed,” Aiden said, watching her carefully. “You’re more... guarded.”

“You would be too, if you had enemies in boardrooms and back alleys.”

He laughed. “I run a company, Lyra. I know all about ruthless negotiations.”

She didn’t correct him. Just smiled, like it was a shared joke.

The night wore on, stars blinking above them. As they stepped into the elevator to descend, Aiden reached for her hand.

“I’m glad we did this,” he said.

She squeezed his fingers gently. “Me too.”

But just as the doors closed, a voice crackled in her hidden earpiece—only she could hear it.

“Queen, we’ve got a situation. Rival crew spotted near the docks. Armed.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“Everything okay?” Aiden asked.

Lyra smiled sweetly, her hand still in his.

“Perfect,” she lied. “Just a little business to take care of.”

---

---

Aiden walked her to the car, still smiling, completely unaware of the storm brewing beneath Lyra’s calm exterior.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” he asked, lingering at the open door.

She leaned in and kissed him—slow, deliberate, like it was both a promise and a goodbye. “I’d like that.”

Then she slid into the backseat and the door shut with a soft click. The moment it did, the smile vanished.

“Drive,” she ordered. Her voice was sharp now—steel wrapped in silk.

The driver didn’t need a second prompt. As the city lights blurred past the tinted windows, Lyra reached into the side panel of the car, pulling out a sleek black case. Inside: twin pistols, matte black, custom-engraved. She strapped one to her thigh and slid the other under her jacket.

“Status,” she said into her earpiece.

“They’re trying to intercept the dock shipment—three cars, maybe ten men. We’ve locked down the perimeter, but there’s movement in the shadows.”

“Casualties?”

“Two of ours. One’s not going to make it.”

Lyra’s jaw clenched. “Send word to his family. Triple compensation. I want this cleaned up fast and loud.”

The car pulled up to a warehouse near the docks, hidden behind stacks of shipping containers. Her lieutenant, a tall woman in tactical black, met her at the gate.

“We tried to wait for your order, Queen.”

“You did right,” Lyra said, stepping out. “Now I’ll give it.”

With fluid precision, she slipped through the maze of crates and shadows, her heels traded for combat boots the moment she entered the war zone. Gunfire cracked in the distance—short bursts. Controlled. Her team was well-trained.

Lyra flanked left, catching one of the intruders reloading behind a crate. One clean shot dropped him. No hesitation.

Within minutes, the skirmish was over. Her men were dragging the bodies to be disposed of, erasing every trace. Just as she holstered her weapon, a younger soldier approached.

“Ma’am… there was a message left behind.”

He handed her a scrap of paper, bloodstained and folded.

“He doesn’t know who you are. But we do. Tick, tock.”

Lyra stared at the note, her heart a glacier beneath her ribs.

Someone was watching her. Watching Aiden.

She tore the note in half and burned it on the spot.

Then she turned to her lieutenant. “Clean everything. No leaks.”

“And Aiden?” the woman asked cautiously.

Lyra’s expression softened—but only for a second.

“He stays out of this. No matter what.”

---

Aiden sat at the edge of his bed, scrolling through the photos he’d taken that night. The rooftop lights, their wine glasses clinking, Lyra laughing—God, it was surreal seeing her again. And even more surreal how fast everything had fallen back into place.

But something felt... off.

He tossed his phone onto the nightstand and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. There were little things that didn't sit right. The armed driver. The way she deflected questions about her company. The subtle way her eyes kept scanning the room, like she was always calculating exits.

He told himself it was just her being successful, powerful, guarded. Maybe she’d been burned. Hell, he had left her without a word. Of course she’d have walls now.

Still...

He reached for his laptop, curiosity getting the better of him. A quick search for “Lyra Castell” brought up the usual headlines: CEO of Astra Holdings, Tech Powerhouse Expands to Europe, One of the Country’s Top Business Minds Under 30. All pristine. All too pristine.

He dug deeper—business forums, finance gossip boards, old news archives. And that’s when he found something odd.

A shell company connected to Astra Holdings had been flagged in an old investigation. No charges, but linked—however loosely—to a smuggling ring that vanished overnight. All records scrubbed, no names. Just... gone.

He stared at the screen. “That can’t be her... right?”

But the itch in the back of his mind wouldn’t go away.

He leaned back again, sighing. “What are you into, Lyra?”

His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

“You had a nice dinner. Be careful who you fall in love with.”

Aiden’s blood ran cold.

He re-read the message. No name. No hint.

Just a warning.

And suddenly, he wasn’t so sure if he was the one chasing answers... or being watched himself.

--

---

The next morning, Aiden didn’t wait for a call. He showed up at Lyra’s office unannounced.

The receptionist blinked in surprise. “Do you have an appointment, sir?”

“No,” he said evenly. “But tell her Aiden Rowe is here. She’ll see me.”

A minute later, he was ushered into a private elevator that led straight to the top floor. Astra Holdings’ headquarters looked more like a luxury fortress than a tech firm—glass, steel, and silence. Too quiet for a company this powerful.

When the doors opened, Lyra was standing by her floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the city like she owned it.

Because she did.

“You’re early,” she said, not turning around.

“I couldn’t wait.”

She finally looked over her shoulder. “Is that a good thing or a bad one?”

He stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind him. “Depends on how honest you’re planning to be with me.”

Something in her eyes shifted—but only for a second. “Aiden, what’s going on?”

“I got a message last night. No name, just a warning. About you.”

Her mask didn’t crack. “People talk. I’m a powerful woman. It comes with enemies.”

He nodded slowly, studying her. “Then maybe you can explain why your company is linked to a smuggling front that disappeared from the face of the earth two years ago.”

That landed.

Lyra’s lips parted just slightly, as if to speak, but no words came out.

“I didn’t come here to accuse you,” he said, softer now. “I just want the truth. Who are you really, Lyra?”

Silence.

Then she stepped toward him, slowly, deliberately, heels clicking against marble like the ticking of a countdown clock. “You want the truth?”

“I think I deserve it.”

She stopped inches from him, her voice low, controlled. “The truth is… I built everything I have from nothing. I survived things you can’t imagine. And I don’t owe anyone explanations for how I protect what’s mine.”

He frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re going to get.”

Aiden’s jaw tightened. “So what are we doing here? You say you care, you say you missed me—but you won’t even tell me who I’m falling for.”

Her eyes softened—just a flicker—and she reached up, touching his face gently.

“I never stopped loving you,” she whispered. “But if you dig too deep, Aiden… you won’t like what you find.”

He held her gaze, torn between the girl he remembered and the woman in front of him now.

“I already don’t.”

The words hung between them like smoke—dense, bitter, and lingering.

--

The office was silent after Aiden left—too silent.

Lyra stood motionless, her fingers still tingling from where she’d touched his face. The cold he left in his wake felt deeper than any bullet wound she’d ever taken. She let out a shaky breath and turned back to the window, but the view no longer offered comfort.

It never really had.

Her lieutenant, Cass, entered quietly a few minutes later. “He’s gone?”

Lyra didn’t answer right away.

Cass approached, hands clasped behind her back, watching her boss with a rare flash of sympathy. “We can deal with him. If he becomes a threat—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Lyra said, voice razor-sharp.

Cass nodded, backing off.

Lyra walked to the bar in the corner of her office and poured herself a drink—not wine, not tonight. Something stronger. Something that burned. She took a long sip, then another, her perfectly painted nails tapping against the glass.

“He was supposed to be the only part of me that stayed untouched,” she whispered, more to herself than to Cass.

“You’ve kept this hidden for a decade. He’s just a man,” Cass said quietly.

Lyra’s laugh was hollow. “He’s not just a man. He’s Aiden. He’s the one thing I wanted before the empire. Before the blood. Before I became someone people feared.”

Cass didn’t respond. She knew there were some wounds even a mafia queen couldn’t heal with vengeance.

Lyra walked to the mirror across the room and stared at her reflection. Perfect makeup. Perfect poise. The face of power. Of control.

But the woman staring back at her didn’t look invincible. She looked... haunted.

“I should’ve never let him back in,” she said.

“But you did.”

“I know.”

Cass stepped forward. “If he digs deeper, he’ll become a liability. To you. To the business.”

Lyra didn’t blink.

“I know,” she said again—this time colder.

And just like that, the softness vanished. She took another sip, then set the glass down with finality.

“Keep an eye on him. No one touches him but me.”

“And if he finds the truth?”

Lyra looked out the window again, her voice low and brittle.

“Then I’ll decide if love is worth killing for.”

---