The drive back to the penthouse was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of Dante's radio.
Elena sat in the back seat clutching the silver locket so tightly the chain dug into her palm. The tiny star inside was still there—scratched now, but unmistakable. She kept turning it over in her fingers, remembering the night Luca had given it to her. Her seventeenth birthday. They'd been on the roof of the old Rossi warehouse, city lights spread out below like spilled diamonds. He'd been nervous, fumbling with the clasp, laughing when it tangled in her hair.
Now that same locket felt like a threat.
Luca kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror. His eyes were still a little red from the warehouse, the raw fear he'd spilled between those containers still hanging between them. He didn't try to hide it anymore. That alone made her chest feel too full.
When they finally pulled into the private garage, Sofia broke the quiet.
"I'll run the locket for prints," she said, voice flat with exhaustion. "Though I doubt we'll find anything useful. This guy's careful."
Dante nodded once and disappeared toward the security room without another word.
Luca waited until the others were gone before he turned to Elena. "Come upstairs with me. You don't have to be alone tonight."
She almost laughed. Alone was the last thing she wanted.
They rode the elevator in silence. When the doors opened into the penthouse, the lights were dimmed low, the city glittering beyond the windows like nothing had changed. But everything had.
Elena kicked off her shoes and walked straight to the couch, still holding the locket. Luca followed, dropping down beside her. Close, but not crowding. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
"I keep seeing his face," he said after a minute. "Alexander. The way he looked right at us like he knew we'd be there. Like he wanted us to find him."
Elena opened her palm and stared at the locket. "He was in my room. In my father's house. While I was here… with you." The words tasted bitter. "How long has he been watching us? Laughing at us?"
Luca reached over slowly and took the locket from her hand. His fingers brushed hers—warm, steady despite everything. He turned the little star over, thumb tracing the faint engraving on the back that only they knew was there: For my star – L.
His breath hitched.
"I gave this to you because I wanted you to have something that was just ours," he said quietly. "Something the families couldn't touch. And now he's using it to remind us how deep he's already inside our lives."
Elena watched his face. The regret was back, mixed with that raw fear he'd shown her at the warehouse. But there was anger too—quiet, burning low.
She shifted closer until their knees touched. "Hey. Look at me."
He did. Those ice-blue eyes were stormy tonight.
"You told me your fear started when you were eight," she said softly. "When your father made you watch that man die and told you real men don't feel afraid. But you felt it anyway. You've been carrying it since. And tonight… when you pinned me against that container… I saw it all. The little boy who couldn't cry at his mother's funeral. The man who left because he was terrified of getting me killed."
Luca swallowed hard. His free hand found hers again, lacing their fingers tight.
"I'm still scared," he admitted. The words came out rough, like they scraped on the way up. "Every time I think about Alexander getting close to you… every time I remember how easy it would be to lose you the way I lost my mom… it hits me all over again. Like I'm still that kid standing in the church, trying not to shake."
Elena squeezed his hand. "Then stop trying to bury it alone. I'm scared too. Scared that this revenge will eat us up before we even get a chance to figure out what we are. Scared that Alexander wins by making us turn on each other. But I'm not running from you anymore, Luca. Even if it's messy. Even if we're both broken in different ways."
He let out a shaky breath and leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. The locket was still in his other hand, pressed between their palms now.
"I don't deserve you saying that," he whispered. "But God… I want to believe it."
They stayed like that for a long time—foreheads touching, breathing the same air, the city humming far below. No big moves. No rush to kiss. Just the quiet comfort of not being alone with the fear anymore.
Eventually Elena pulled back just enough to look at him. "What do we do now?"
Luca set the locket gently on the coffee table. "Tomorrow we tighten everything. More security on the Rossi compound. We bring your uncle Marco in on the Alexander name—carefully. Sofia keeps digging into his foster history. And we don't go anywhere alone."
He paused, then added softer, "And tonight… you sleep here. In the bed. I'll take the couch if you want. Or… we can just lie there like last night. No pressure. Just… us."
Elena stood and tugged him up with her. "Bed. Together. Clothes on. No deals. Just because I don't want to close my eyes and see his face alone."
Luca's shoulders relaxed a fraction. He nodded.
They walked to the bedroom without letting go of each other's hands.
Later, when the lights were off and they were lying facing each other under the sheets—still fully dressed, the locket now on the nightstand—Elena whispered into the dark.
"Tell me something small. Something good from before all this fear took over."
Luca was quiet for a moment. Then a tiny smile touched his voice.
"When I was six, my mom let me help bake cookies for Christmas. I put way too much salt in the dough because I thought it was sugar. They tasted terrible. But she ate three of them anyway and told me they were the best she'd ever had. Then she danced with me in the kitchen to some old song on the radio. I stepped on her toes the whole time. She just laughed."
Elena smiled in the dark. "I like that version of you."
"I like that version too," he said. "Haven't seen him in a long time."
She reached out and found his hand under the covers. Their fingers laced together again.
"Maybe we can find him again," she whispered. "After Alexander is gone. After the blood settles. Maybe we can have stupid salty cookies and bad dancing."
Luca's thumb stroked the back of her hand. "I'd like that. More than anything."
They fell asleep like that—hands linked, fear still present but no longer suffocating.
Outside, the city kept turning.
Somewhere in the dark, Alexander Kane was planning his next move.
But in this room, two scared, scarred people were holding on to each other.
And for tonight, that was enough to keep the ghosts at bay.