Encrypted Hearts

Genre: Romantic Suspense | Mafia Romance | Cybercrime Thriller | Spicy Romance

In World where secrets are currency and danger lurks in every digital footprint, two enemies collide in the most unexpected way.

Rayna Voss, the government’s top cybersecurity agent, is a living firewall—brilliant, calculating, and untouchable. She doesn't blink in front of threats, nor does she falter under pressure. Her mission? To dismantle the dark web empire of the elusive mafia leader known only as “Lucien”.

Lucien Moretti is more than just a name in the shadows. Ruthless, brilliant, and devastatingly charming, he controls the global underground network like a game of chess. But when a breach in his encrypted system is traced to an unknown hacker, Lucien sets a trap—only to find a woman who isn’t afraid to look the devil in the eye.

One stolen night.

One forbidden touch.

One explosive truth.

When a cyber-sting goes wrong and the two are forced into an uneasy alliance, fire meets ice in a world where trust is deadly and passion is even deadlier.

Because sometimes...

love is the most dangerous code to crack.

Main Characters:

Female Lead (FL)

Name: Rayna Voss

Age: 28

Height: 5'8" (173 cm)

Weight: 60 kg (132 lbs)

Eyes: Stormy grey

Hair: Midnight black, straight, waist-length

Build: Lean, athletic; toned from years of tactical training

Distinguishing Features: A faint scar near her right collarbone (from an old mission); sharp, calculating gaze

Style: Mostly tactical or sleek black fits; wears matte lipstick and always carries a concealed weapon

Family Background:

Father: Retired Air Force Commander; trained Rayna in discipline, strategy, and survival from a young age

Mother: Deceased (car crash, suspicious circumstances)

Siblings: None

Grew up in a high-security military zone; always excelled in technology, earning top ranks in elite government academies

Secretly believes her mother’s death was not an accident—this led her to join cyber investigations

Male Lead (ML)

Name: Lucien Moretti

Age: 32

Height: 6'3" (190 cm)

Weight: 88 kg (194 lbs)

Eyes: Piercing green with golden flecks

Hair: Dark brown, thick and always slightly tousled

Build: Broad-shouldered, muscular, the kind that speaks of silent power

Distinguishing Features: Tattooed spine with encrypted Latin code; jagged scar along his jawline

Style: Designer suits with a casual air of danger; usually wears a sleek watch that doubles as a micro-data extractor

Family Background:

Father: Franco Moretti – Old-school Italian mafia boss (assassinated when Lucien was 19)

Mother: Russian aristocrat, vanished mysteriously after his father’s death

Siblings: None known publicly (rumors say he protects a secret half-sibling)

Grew up between Rome and Moscow; sent to private military academies and underground coding schools

Took over his father’s empire but evolved it into a tech-based crime syndicate controlling digital weapons, crypto trades, and dark web intelligence .

Let's see how their fate are crossed .

I hope y'all like these and please like and share and subscribe this chapter see you soon

The hum of computer servers echoed in the dimly lit command center, their rhythmic drone a lullaby to chaos. Agent Rayna Voss sat alone at the head of the table, her silver tablet glowing with layers of encrypted code. She barely blinked as strings of data unraveled before her sharp grey eyes—eyes that saw patterns where others saw noise.

Tonight wasn’t like any other operation.

This wasn’t a typical breach.

She had traced the digital fingerprints through a maze of proxies, dark net tunnels, and phantom servers. Only one name floated to the surface—Specter. The ghost of the cyber underworld. Untraceable. Untouchable.

Until now.

"You're sure this is him?" the voice of her deputy crackled through the earpiece.

"I'm never sure," Rayna replied, a smirk ghosting over her lips. "But my gut hasn’t been wrong since Prague."

"Prague nearly got you killed."

"Exactly. And that bastard had nice teeth. Let’s hope this one has better manners."

She clicked a final sequence, triggering a virus meant to lead Specter into her sandbox—a fake server wired to look like a vulnerability in the National Defense Network. It was a trap, and she was the bait.

---

Milan, Italy – 02:43 AM

Lucien Moretti stood in his penthouse suite, the skyline behind him glittering like broken diamonds. The floor-to-ceiling windows made him look like a shadow among stars, dressed in black slacks and a silk shirt unbuttoned at the neck.

His eyes, a molten green, locked on the line of code that flashed across his holographic monitor.

Someone had tried to break into his private network.

And not just anyone.

This was no amateur hacker with a vengeance. This was clean. Precise. Cold.

"A government signature," he murmured, sipping dark espresso from a glass cup. "Cute."

From across the room, Nikolai—his right-hand man—shifted uncomfortably. "Orders, boss?"

Lucien’s lips curled, not in amusement, but in interest. "I’m going to answer the door."

"You think it’s a trap?"

"Oh, it's definitely a trap. But I want to meet the hunter."

---

New York – 03:12 PM

Rayna had been watching the decoy system for thirty-six minutes when the trap finally sprang to life. Her pulse spiked. He had taken the bait.

A new access point appeared on the screen—remote, anonymous, but she could tell by the latency and movement that it wasn’t an automated bot. This was live. Someone was in.

Rayna typed faster, slipping behind his connection. “Come on, show me your face,” she whispered.

Then it happened.

A message appeared on her screen.

Nice try, firewall queen. But you're in my house now. – L

Rayna's blood turned to ice. Her fingers froze over the keys.

No one was supposed to know her code name. No one.

Her screens went black.

"Shit."

The servers rebooted by themselves. The emergency failsafes didn't trigger. This wasn’t a breach—it was a backdoor.

He had turned her trap into his playground.

Then, a new window opened.

live video feed

She hesitated for a heartbeat before clicking play.

And there he was.

Lucien Moretti.

Leaning back in a leather chair, smirking like the devil in silk.

“Hello, Rayna,” he said smoothly. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”

---

Twelve Hours Later – Zurich, Switzerland

The plane touched down under classified flight status. No questions asked. Rayna stepped onto the tarmac in a black trench coat, heels clicking with purpose. Her superiors wanted her to back off. She didn’t.

Specter had made it personal.

He had accessed her system, left no trace, and then—worst of all—had said her name like a lover's whisper.

She needed to look into his eyes.

Face to face.

Her only lead: a high-stakes crypto tech gala hosted at an exclusive château known for its “off-grid” clientele. Billionaires. Hackers. Mercenaries. All in one place. And rumor had it that Lucien Moretti would attend.

The world thought he was dead.

But she knew better.

Château Miroux – That Night

The ballroom glowed in candlelight and champagne. Gowns and tuxedos flowed like shadows under crystal chandeliers. Music played softly, but tension hummed like a powerline.

Rayna moved through the crowd, her sleek black dress clinging like second skin, a subtle earpiece hidden beneath dark curls. Her eyes scanned faces, body language, every glass raised in toast.

And then, she saw him.

He leaned casually against the bar, a black suit tailored to his powerful frame, collar open just enough to tease. His gaze found hers across the room—like he had been waiting for this exact moment.

Rayna didn’t blink.

Lucien raised his glass in a silent toast.

Then turned and walked toward the terrace.

She followed.

Terrace Overlooking the Lake

Cold night air bit into her skin, but her blood was boiling. He stood with his back to her, hands clasped behind him, as if she were the one intruding.

“Lucien Moretti,” she said.

“I prefer Specter,” he replied, still facing the water. “But I must admit... it’s different hearing my name from your lips.”

She drew her pistol, silently.

“You accessed federal servers. You breached Level One security. That's treason.”

He turned slowly, eyes burning like slow fire.

“And you planted malware in my system. That's war.”

A tense pause.

The moonlight painted his features with silver shadows—handsome in a way that was both dangerous and devastating.

Rayna didn't lower her weapon.

Lucien stepped forward until the barrel pressed against his chest.

“Do it,” he murmured. “Shoot me. But then you’ll never get the answers you're really after.”

She scowled. “What do you think I want?”

“You want to know why your mother died,” he said simply.

The air left her lungs.

“What did you say?”

Lucien’s smile was not cruel—it was sad. “You’re in the wrong war, Rayna. The real enemy is inside your own house.”

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, heavy and electric.

And then she lowered the gun.

Only slightly.

“You hacked my past,” she said, voice tight.

“No,” he said. “I protected your future.”

Before she could react, he stepped closer, their breath mingling in the cold air.

“Don’t trust the agency,” he whispered against her ear. “They’re the ones who want you dead.”

She didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

But her heart betrayed her—pounding wildly against her ribs.

Lucien slowly took her wrist and placed something cold in her hand.

A flash drive.

“Decode that. If you're half as brilliant as I think you are, you'll come find me.”

And with that, he vanished into the shadows.

Back at the Safehouse – 02:18 AM

Rayna stared at the drive on the desk. Her thoughts were a storm.

She should destroy it.

She should arrest him.

She should turn everything over to her superiors.

But nothing about Lucien Moretti felt like a lie.

He had access to files she hadn’t even known existed. Mentioned her mother. Her past. Her secrets. It wasn’t just curiosity now—it was obsession.

She slid the drive into a secured terminal and entered her code.

Lines of encrypted video opened—classified agency files. Surveillance footage. Memos. Internal chatter.

And then—

> PROJECT ECHO: SUBJECT TERMINATION APPROVED

> Target: Layla Voss

Her mother.

Her death wasn’t an accident.

It was an execution.

Rayna sat back, stunned. The pieces were snapping together—ugly, twisted pieces of betrayal, power, and something even darker beneath.

And the only person who had shown her the truth... was a man the world called a criminal.

Lucien Moretti.

Her enemy.

Her only ally.

And maybe… her undoing.

Zurich, Switzerland – 03:07 AM

The hotel room felt colder than it should. Rayna stood barefoot by the window, the silk robe clinging to her like second skin as the wind whispered through the cracked pane. In her hand was the flash drive, still warm from the terminal, like it carried more than just data.

Truth.

Betrayal.

Fire.

Everything had changed.

The agency that raised her, trained her, trusted her—had ordered the execution of her mother.

And the man who exposed it? The one she’d sworn to capture?

He made her skin burn just by breathing the same air.

Rayna’s fingers twitched at her side. She needed clarity. Control. A plan.

But when her encrypted phone buzzed, she knew it wouldn’t be either of those.

> **Unknown Caller**

> [Secure Line – 30-second timer]

She answered.

“I knew you’d look,” came his voice. Deep. Calm. Infuriatingly seductive.

“You planted it,” she snapped. “You knew I’d follow it.”

“I didn’t need to plant anything,” Lucien said. “I just opened the door. You walked in.”

“I should bring you in right now.”

“You won’t.”

Silence.

Rayna’s grip tightened.

"Because you need me," he said. "And you hate that more than anything."

She hated that it was true.

Then, a soft knock at the door.

Rayna turned slowly, heart thudding. “What the hell—?”

“I’m already here,” he said through the phone, just as the call ended.

She strode to the door, gun drawn instantly, and pulled it open.

Lucien stood there. Taller than she remembered. In a black coat, drenched from the night rain. His green eyes took in her form in one sweep, pausing briefly at the open robe and the black slip underneath.

Rayna didn’t flinch. “You’re insane.”

“You left your firewalls down,” he murmured, stepping in before she could argue.

“You broke into a government-secured safehouse.”

“I break into worse places for breakfast.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to.

Rayna shut the door behind him, heart pounding too fast. Too loud.

“You don’t get to break in and flirt.”

Lucien turned to her, face inches from hers. “I’m not flirting.”

“What do you call this?”

“Warning you.”

He reached out, slowly, like he was giving her time to stop him. But she didn’t move.

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. Soft. Controlled. Electric.

“You have no idea how deep this goes,” he said, voice like velvet danger. “If you knew the people sitting above your agency—pulling your strings—you’d burn the whole place down.”

“Then show me.”

Lucien’s gaze flicked to her lips.

“I already have. You just haven’t decided what to do with the match.”

Their breath mingled.

The silence wasn’t empty—it was charged. Waiting to snap.

Rayna’s hand still held the gun. But it was lowering. Slowly. Like gravity was pulling her into him.

“You should leave,” she whispered.

“I should,” he agreed, stepping closer. “But I won’t.”

And then it happened.

His mouth crashed into hers—hot, claiming, unrelenting.

Rayna didn’t think.

She dropped the gun to the floor and gripped his coat, yanking him closer as her back hit the wall.

The kiss was fire and fury, like every suppressed thought they’d ever had exploded at once. His hand found her jaw, the other gripping her waist like he owned it.

She pushed him back, eyes blazing. “This doesn’t change anything.”

Lucien smirked, his lips swollen, breath uneven.

“Not yet.”

But they both knew something had already shifted. A line crossed. A code broken.

He stepped back, retrieving something from his coat.

A second flash drive.

“I found the man who signed your mother’s order. Codename: *Warden*.”

Rayna’s breath caught.

“Where?”

He leaned in, lips barely grazing her ear.

“Paris. Three days. Come alone.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving her in the silence, gun on the floor, heart burning, and the taste of a criminal on her tongue.