Mutual

It started with a message Bella should never have received.

No name.

No number she recognized.

Just coordinates and three words:

Moretti warehouse. Alive.

Bella stared at the screen for a long second too long.

Marco saw it the moment her expression changed.

“Who sent that,” he asked, already moving closer.

“One of Moretti’s men,” she said quietly. “Low-level. Disposable.”

“Or bait,” Marco replied immediately.

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t need to.

Don Silvio didn’t make mistakes like this. He set traps and waited to see who walked into them.

Marco took the phone from her hand, scanning the message again. “They want us to come. They want to see who moves.”

“Yes,” Bella said. Her jaw tightened. “And they want to see how far I’ll go.”

“That location,” Marco said, already thinking ahead, “it’s exposed. Easy access, bad exits.”

Silence stretched between them.

Marco met her eyes. “We both know this is a trap.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re still going.”

“Yes.”

That was the moment he knew there was no stopping her.

Marco didn’t wait.

He grabbed his coat, signaling two of his closest men. “Get ready,” he said, voice low but firm. “Bella’s going after him. And we’re going with her.”

Paolo and Stefano nodded, already moving.

Marco’s gaze stayed on Bella.

She had already turned away, already committed, already stepping into the night like this decision had been made long before the message ever arrived.

He found her at the far end of the estate, assembling gear with meticulous care. Every movement precise. Controlled. Not rushed.

Her eyes flicked up at him, dark and unflinching.

“I know why you’re doing this,” he said.

Bella didn’t answer.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he continued. “You’re walking straight into enemy territory. They expect you. They want you there.”

She loaded her weapon, checked the chamber, then finally looked at him.

“I know,” she said. “But he’s alive, Marco. And that makes him mine to save.”

Marco exhaled slowly.

He had seen this before. The way her sense of debt turned into resolve. The way loyalty overrode self-preservation.

“You’ll have backup,” he said. “You’re not doing this alone.”

Her lips pressed into a line. Not gratitude. Not reassurance.

Just a short nod.

That was enough.

Hours later, across the city, the warehouse didn’t look abandoned.

That was the first problem.

Too much light leaked through the high windows. Too many shadows where there should have been none. The place was breathing. Awake.

Marco raised his fist.

All four of them stopped.

Two guards stood near the side entrance. Moretti men. Jackets open, weapons visible but untouched. The posture of men who believed the night belonged to them.

“Two at the door,” Paolo murmured.

“Another patrol inside,” Stefano added quietly. “Slow pace. They’re relaxed.”

Bella’s gaze never stopped moving. Distance. Angles. Timing.

“Front entrance is bait,” Marco said. “They want noise.”

“Then we don’t give it to them,” Bella replied.

She looked at the men briefly. “Paolo, left. Stefano, take rear cover. Marco, second target.”

No objections. No hesitation.

They moved as one.

Bella reached the first guard before he could register movement. Her strike was clean, brutal, efficient. He collapsed without a sound.

Marco pulled the second man back into the shadows, hand over his mouth, a sharp twist. Silence returned.

Paolo signaled. Clear.

They slipped inside.

The smell hit first. Oil. Dust. Old metal. Voices echoed deeper within the building. Calm voices. Laughing.

“That’s not good,” Stefano muttered.

“No,” Marco agreed. “That means they’re confident.”

They advanced slowly.

Another pair of guards appeared at the end of the corridor. One noticed movement and reached for his weapon.

Bella fired first.

Marco followed.

Controlled shots. Short bursts. The second man tried to flee.

Stefano tackled him hard, slamming him into a steel beam. The impact knocked the breath out of him. Paolo finished it with a strike to the head.

“Move,” Marco ordered.

They rounded the final corner.

And Bella saw him.

Luca was bound to a chair near the center of the warehouse. Wrists secured, posture rigid, head slightly lowered. Blood traced along his temple, dried but dark. His breathing was steady. Controlled.

Alive.

Bella’s chest tightened.

She took one step forward.

Luca lifted his head.

His eyes sharpened instantly, scanning the room, assessing threats, exits, numbers.

Then his gaze landed on her.

Confusion crossed his face first.

Then disbelief.

“Bella?” His voice was rough, low. “What are you doing here?”

It wasn’t relief.

It was anger.

“Stay back,” he snapped, testing the restraints. “This isn’t—”

The lights snapped on.

Metal doors slammed shut.

Weapons cocked all around them.

Marco cursed under his breath. “Shit.”

Moretti men stepped out from every direction. Too many. Calm. Waiting.

A voice echoed from above, amused.

“Well,” it said mildly, “if this isn’t déjà vu.”

Don Silvio’s smile lingered.

“I wanted to see if it was mutual.”

The word settled heavily in the space between them.

Then his gaze settled on Bella, unblinking. “It is.”

The air shifted. Not with gunfire. With understanding.

Don Silvio straightened. “Two enemies. Two rescues. Two choices that make no sense on paper.”

He smiled again, slow and satisfied.

“That kind of connection,” he said, “is far more dangerous than loyalty.”

Bella didn’t move at first.

Then she did something small. Instinctive.

She looked past Marco. Past the guns. Past the men.

She looked at Luca.

For the first time since she’d entered the warehouse, their eyes met without distance, without interruption. No weapons raised. No roles to hide behind.

Just recognition.

Something shifted.

Not a spark. Not a sudden revelation.

Something worse.

Understanding.

This wasn’t debt.

This wasn’t circumstance.

This wasn’t strategy.

This was choice.

Luca felt it hit him all at once. The weight of her being there. The fact that she had come knowing exactly what this was. Knowing it was a trap.

For him.

His jaw tightened.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said quietly.

Bella didn’t look away. “Then don’t save me next time.”

A beat.

“So I don’t owe you,” she added, voice low, sharp, honest.

Something unreadable crossed Luca’s face. Regret. Relief. Fear. Maybe all of it at once.

Don Silvio laughed softly.

“No next time,” he said pleasantly.

The sound cut through them cleanly, like a blade.

He leaned forward on the railing, eyes bright now, satisfied in the way only cruel intelligence could be.

“You misunderstand the nature of this,” Don Silvio continued. “I don’t repeat lessons.”

His gaze flicked to Marco, then back to Bella and Luca together.

“You came because you couldn’t stay away. Both of you. That makes this… conclusive.”

Marco shifted, every muscle tight. Paolo and Stefano didn’t move, but their focus sharpened.

“This ends now,” Marco said.

Don Silvio smiled wider.

“Oh no,” he replied. “This begins now.”

He straightened, stepping back into the shadows.

“Take them.”

Hands grabbed Bella from behind.

She fought instantly. Elbow. Headbutt. A sharp twist that earned a curse from one attacker. But there were too many. Her weapon was ripped from her grip and skidded across the concrete.

“Bella!” Marco shouted.

“Go!” she yelled. “Get out. Now.”

Marco hesitated.

Luca saw it and shook his head once. A silent command.

Leave.

Marco swore and opened fire, covering the retreat.

Paolo pulled him back. Stefano threw a smoke charge, buying them seconds.

They vanished into the shadows.

Bella was forced to her knees beside Luca.

Her breathing was heavy. Rage burned hot and bright.

Luca turned his head toward her slowly, eyes dangerous.

“You really are impossible,” he said quietly.

She let out a sharp, breathless laugh. “You noticed.”

The Moretti men hauled them to their feet and dragged them deeper into the warehouse.

Luca didn’t look away from her.

Not relief.

Not gratitude.

Understanding.

This hadn’t been a rescue.

It was a trap.

And she had walked straight into it for him.

And in that instant, Bella and Luca understood the same thing at the same time.

Whatever this was between them.

It had just become a weapon.

And Don Silvio intended to use it.