The first lesson Dante Romano learned was that trust was a weakness. In the world he was born into, power was built on deception, loyalty was a currency, and love was a myth. His father, Lorenzo Romano, had ensured that his only son understood the brutality of their existence from a young age. There were no fairytales for boys like him. Only blood, betrayal, and the constant weight of his family’s name.

At ten, he watched his first execution.

At fifteen, he held a gun and pulled the trigger.

By twenty-two, he had earned the respect of killers twice his age, his reputation carved into the bones of those who dared to cross the Romano name.

Now, at twenty-five, Dante was untouchable. Feared. Respected. A man who held the city in the palm of his hand. But despite his control, there was one name that threatened everything—the Morettis.

The Romanos and the Morettis had been at war for decades. Blood had been spilled, families torn apart, and revenge fueled their every move. Each side had suffered immeasurable loss, and neither was willing to forgive.

Across the city, Aria Moretti sat on the rooftop of an abandoned building, her dark eyes scanning the streets below. Unlike Dante, she had not been born with power, but rather forged into it. The Moretti family did not raise their children with love; they sharpened them like weapons, and Aria had been their deadliest creation.

Her earliest memories were of pain. Training that pushed her to the brink, punishments that left scars both visible and invisible. Her father, Antonio Moretti, had stripped her of innocence, molded her into an assassin, and unleashed her into the world with one purpose—eliminate threats before they eliminated her family.

She had learned to kill before she had learned to love.

She had learned to hate the Romano name before she had even met Dante.

Fate, however, had a cruel sense of humor.

Dante stood in his father’s office, his jaw clenched as Lorenzo spoke. “The Morettis have been making moves. Antonio is pushing for something bigger, and I won’t have that bastard challenging our power.”

Dante said nothing, waiting for the real order behind his father’s words.

Lorenzo’s gaze sharpened. “We need to send a message.”

The message was always the same—blood.

Dante’s fingers curled into a fist. “Who’s the target?”

Lorenzo smirked, lighting a cigar. “Not just any soldier. This time, we hit where it hurts. We’re taking out their ghost.”

Dante’s brows furrowed. “Their ghost?”

“The girl.” Lorenzo exhaled smoke, his voice laced with amusement. “Aria Moretti.”

For the first time in years, Dante hesitated.

He had heard the whispers. The stories of the shadow who never missed her mark. The girl trained to kill without hesitation, a phantom in the night. Some believed she wasn’t real. Those who had survived her wrath claimed she was more demon than human. But Dante knew the truth—she was Antonio Moretti’s secret weapon, the blade he wielded in the darkness.

And now, she was Dante’s next target.

Across the city, Aria received her own orders.

Antonio Moretti stood before her, his expression unreadable. “The Romanos think they own this city,” he said, his voice calm but laced with venom. “They forget who we are.”

Aria remained still, waiting.

Antonio met her gaze. “Kill Dante Romano.”

The words should have been simple. Another name on her list, another life to take. But something inside her hesitated.

Dante Romano. The name she had heard since childhood. The enemy she had never met. A man feared by many, but never by her.

She had spent years hunting those who opposed her family. This should have been no different.

But somehow, it was.

She had studied him from afar, gathering intelligence, preparing for this moment. Dante was no ordinary target. He was ruthless, intelligent, and calculated. He had outlived threats that would have taken down lesser men. Killing him would not be easy. But it had to be done.

As she left her father’s office, Aria allowed herself a single breath of hesitation before steeling herself. There was no room for doubt in her world. A single misstep, a moment of weakness, and she would not live to see another sunrise.

Dante, meanwhile, sat in his car, staring out at the city lights. His father’s words echoed in his mind. Kill the girl. Send a message. He had never backed down from an order, never questioned the necessity of violence. But something about this mission felt different.

A deep, instinctual voice whispered in his mind—This is a mistake.

Shaking the thought away, he focused on the plan. If Aria Moretti was as deadly as the rumors claimed, he would need to be careful. There could be no mistakes, no hesitation. The moment they came face to face, one of them would not walk away alive.

Neither of them knew that their fates were about to collide. That the moment they met, everything they had been taught would begin to unravel. That the war they had been born into would no longer be as simple as enemy against enemy.

That love and hate were two sides of the same coin, and they were about to be caught in the middle of a storm neither of them could control.

In a world ruled by blood, betrayal, and vengeance, their story was only Neither of them knew that their fates were about to collide. That the moment they came face to face, everything they had been taught would begin to unravel. That the war they had been born into would no longer be as simple as enemy against enemy.

That love and hate were two sides of the same coin, and they were about to be caught in the middle of a storm neither of them could control.

In a world ruled by blood, betrayal, and vengeance, their story was only just beginning.

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to be continued............

The night was thick with tension as Dante stepped into the dimly lit club. His senses were on high alert. The mission was clear: find Aria Moretti and eliminate her. Yet, as he scanned the crowd, something in his gut twisted. He had faced enemies before, had killed without hesitation. But something about this night felt different.

Aria was already there, concealed in the shadows, watching him. She had tracked his movements, anticipated his arrival. This was not a mission—it was a test. One that neither of them fully understood.

Their eyes met across the room. A spark ignited.

Neither moved, yet everything shifted.

Dante ordered a drink, his movements measured. He could feel the weight of her gaze, could sense the lethal energy she carried. He had studied her from afar, but now, standing in the same room, he realized something dangerous—she wasn’t just an assassin. She was a ghost, a predator who thrived in darkness.

Aria observed him, taking in every detail. The cut of his suit, the confidence in his stance, the way he owned the space around him without needing to utter a word. He was dangerous in a way that was different from the men she had killed before. He wasn’t reckless. He was calculated. And that made him unpredictable.

The music pulsed through the club, drowning out the murmurs of conversation. People danced, oblivious to the storm brewing between the two figures who stood at opposite ends of the room. The game had begun, and neither of them was willing to make the first move.

Aria finally stepped out of the shadows, weaving through the crowd with effortless grace. She approached the bar, stopping beside him. Close enough to touch. Close enough to kill.

"Dante Romano," she murmured, her voice smooth as silk, yet laced with steel.

Dante turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. "Aria Moretti. I was wondering when we’d finally meet."

She tilted her head, a smirk playing at her lips. "And here I thought you'd be more... intimidating."

He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink. "And I thought you'd be less reckless. Walking up to your enemy like this? Bold move."

Aria’s eyes gleamed. "Maybe I wanted to see if the rumors were true. If the infamous Dante Romano was as dangerous as they say."

Dante set his glass down, turning fully toward her. "And? What's your verdict?"

She leaned in, her lips mere inches from his ear. "Undecided."

For a fleeting second, the world around them disappeared. The tension between them was electric, charged with something neither of them wanted to name. Then, just as quickly, Aria stepped back, her expression unreadable.

"You know why we're here," she said softly, her fingers trailing along the edge of the bar.

Dante nodded. "I do. But somehow, I don’t think either of us is in a hurry to get it over with."

Aria studied him for a long moment before exhaling. "Not here. Too public."

"Agreed," Dante said. "So what do we do? Pretend this night didn’t happen?"

She smiled. "Or we let the game play out."

Dante smirked, raising his glass in mock salute. "Then let the game begin."

They parted ways, neither willing to make the first move—not yet. But they both knew this was only the beginning. The next time they met, there would be no shadows to hide in, no crowd to blur the lines between hunter and hunted.

The war between their families would not wait forever.

And neither would they.

---

Aria walked away, her pulse still unsteady. She had expected Dante to be like the others—arrogant, reckless, easily manipulated. But he wasn’t. He was different, and that made him more dangerous.

She exited through the back of the club, stepping into the cool night air. Her car was parked a few blocks away, but she didn’t head straight for it. Instead, she melted into the shadows, watching, waiting. She had spent years learning patience, and tonight, that skill would serve her well.

Dante wouldn’t leave yet. He would stay, thinking, planning. He was trying to figure out her next move, just as she was trying to figure out his. The real battle had already begun, long before either of them had stepped into that club.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Minutes later, Dante emerged. He walked with purpose, but there was a slight tension in his shoulders, a weight in his expression. Aria could see the wheels turning in his head, the way he analyzed every shadow, every figure that moved in the dark.

He was careful. Too careful.

She had expected that.

What she hadn’t expected was the way her heartbeat quickened as she watched him.

Damn him.

Dante reached his car, pausing just before he opened the door. "Are you going to stay hidden all night?" he asked casually, his voice cutting through the silence.

Aria smirked from the shadows. "I was hoping to see how long it would take you to notice."

He turned slightly, his eyes searching the darkness. "Long enough."

She stepped forward, revealing herself under the dim streetlight. "I could have killed you just now."

Dante’s lips twitched. "Could you?"

Aria narrowed her eyes. "You’re too confident for someone with a target on his back."

"And you’re too hesitant for someone who’s supposed to be my executioner."

A silence stretched between them. A dangerous, fragile thing.

Finally, Dante exhaled. "I don’t think you want to kill me, Aria."

She tilted her head. "And what makes you so sure?"

"Because if you did, you would have done it already."

Aria let out a soft chuckle. "Or maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment."

Dante stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "Then I guess we’ll see who strikes first."

She held his gaze, her fingers twitching at her side, where a blade was hidden beneath her jacket. It would be so easy. A single movement, a flash of steel, and this would all be over.

But she didn’t move.

Neither did he.

After a long moment, Aria sighed. "This is going to get complicated, isn’t it?"

Dante smiled, slow and knowing. "It already is."

She took a step back, retreating into the night. "Until next time, Romano."

"Until next time, Moretti."

And with that, she was gone.

Dante stood there for a moment longer, staring at the spot where she had disappeared. His heart was still pounding, his mind racing with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to.

This was dangerous.

This was a mistake.

And yet, he knew—without a doubt—that he would see her again.

The game had begun.

And neither of them was ready to lose.

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To be continued...........

The days after their first encounter were restless for both Dante and Aria. Neither could shake the lingering electricity from their meeting, the unspoken words heavy between them. Every moment apart was filled with thoughts of the other, of the tension that had wrapped around them like a noose.

Dante sat in his family’s study, the dim glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows against the bookshelves. His father, Antonio Romano, a man whose presence commanded absolute respect, leaned back in his leather chair, fingers tapping against the armrest.

“You hesitated.” Antonio’s voice was calm, but the underlying accusation was clear.

Dante exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “It wasn’t the right moment.”

Antonio studied his son with an unreadable expression. “The Moretti girl is dangerous. You’ve seen what she’s capable of. If you don’t eliminate her now, she’ll be the end of you.”

Dante’s jaw tightened. He had been raised to obey, to act without question. But for the first time, doubt crept into his mind. Aria wasn’t just a name on a hit list. She was something else entirely. Something unknown, something dangerous—but not in the way his father imagined.

Meanwhile, Aria sat alone in her apartment, a single flickering candle illuminating her face. Her mentor, Luca, a hardened assassin who had trained her since childhood, watched her carefully.

“You should have killed him,” Luca said, his voice gravelly. “Romano is an enemy. He won’t hesitate when the time comes.”

Aria’s fingers curled into fists. “Then why didn’t he do it?”

Luca narrowed his eyes. “He’s playing a game, just like you.”

Aria wasn’t sure if that was true. There had been something in Dante’s eyes that night—something that mirrored the turmoil in her own heart. She had spent years conditioning herself to see enemies as targets, nothing more. And yet, she had hesitated too.

---

The next time they met, it wasn’t in the secrecy of shadows. It was in the open, in a neutral zone—an upscale gala hosted by a powerful but unaffiliated business mogul, someone who thrived on the war between the Romanos and the Morettis but refused to take sides.

Dante arrived first, dressed in a sleek black suit, his sharp features unreadable. He scanned the glittering ballroom, his posture relaxed but his senses sharp. He knew Aria would come.

And she did.

She stepped through the doors in a crimson gown, a picture of lethal elegance. Heads turned as she walked, but her focus was singular. Their gazes locked across the room, and for a moment, the rest of the world blurred.

Dante took a sip of his whiskey, smirking slightly as she approached. “I was wondering if you’d show.”

Aria’s lips curved into a smirk of her own. “And miss the chance to see if you’ve finally made up your mind?”

He chuckled, setting his glass down. “You assume I haven’t already.”

She tilted her head. “Then why am I still breathing?”

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. “Maybe I enjoy the challenge.”

The tension between them crackled like a live wire. Around them, the gala continued—dancers twirled, conversations flowed—but they were locked in their own battle, a silent war of wills.

“Care to dance?” Dante extended a hand.

Aria hesitated only a moment before slipping her fingers into his. As they stepped onto the dance floor, the music slowed, and they moved in perfect sync, as if their bodies knew a language their minds refused to acknowledge.

“You know this won’t end well,” she murmured as he spun her effortlessly.

Dante’s grip on her waist tightened slightly. “It doesn’t have to end at all.”

She searched his eyes, looking for deception, for the cold calculation she had been trained to expect. But she found something else instead—something dangerously close to sincerity.

Before she could respond, a gunshot shattered the moment.

Screams erupted. Chaos exploded around them.

Dante immediately pulled Aria behind him, scanning the room for the source. Across the ballroom, a man in a dark suit lay slumped on the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Moretti men stood at one end of the room, Romanos at the other.

The fragile truce had just been broken.

Aria pulled away from Dante, her expression unreadable. “Looks like we’ll have to pick sides after all.”

Then she was gone, disappearing into the panic as security swarmed the area. Dante clenched his jaw. The war had just escalated. And this time, there would be no neutral ground.

---

Aria didn’t go home that night. Instead, she found herself on the rooftop of an abandoned building, staring at the city below. Her mind replayed every moment with Dante—every glance, every word exchanged.

She knew better than to let herself feel anything. Emotion was a weakness in their world. And yet, she couldn’t ignore the pull in her chest, the part of her that wished, for just a moment, that things could be different.

Behind her, Luca stepped onto the roof. “It’s started,” he said simply.

Aria nodded. “I know.”

“Where does that leave you?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she tightened her grip on the railing, her knuckles turning white.

Finally, she whispered, “I don’t know.”

Luca studied her for a long moment. “You need to choose, Aria. Because the next time you see Dante Romano, he won’t hesitate.”

She swallowed hard. “Neither will I.”

But even as she said it, she wasn’t sure she believed it.

Across the city, Dante sat alone in his car, staring at the bloodstains on his sleeve. He had protected her tonight, even when he shouldn’t have. And that terrified him more than anything.

Their lines had been drawn in the sand.

And sooner or later, they would have to cross them.

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To be continued........