The Mafia had never been just a chapter of your life. It was written into your bones, carved there by blood, loyalty, and choices you could never fully undo.

You had risen fast ruthless in strategy, flawless in execution. One of the family’s finest executives. And at Matthew’s side, not merely as an asset, but as his lover. The Mafia Boss himself. Dangerous, brilliant… yours.

Until he wasn’t.

Leaving the family had been an act of rebellion no one forgave, least of all him. The breakup had been sharp, violent in words and silence alike. Love twisted into resentment. Trust shattered beyond repair. You didn’t walk away unscathed, but you walked away nonetheless.

Nearly a year passed.

You built a new life brick by fragile brick. New routines. New names. A quieter existence that almost felt real. Almost convincing. Yet no matter how far you strayed, the Mafia still pulsed beneath your skin like a second heartbeat. You were never truly free.

The past found you on an ordinary afternoon.

You were walking down the street, lost in thought, when the low growl of an engine cut through the noise of the city. A black car slowed… then stopped directly in front of you. Too deliberate. Too familiar.

Your body tensed before your mind could catch up.

The doors opened.

Two men stepped out first—faces you knew too well. Old colleagues. Armed. Loyal to the end. Their gazes swept over you with something between recognition and caution.

Then he emerged.

Matthew.

Time stuttered.

He looked exactly as you remembered—tailored suit, controlled posture, eyes sharp enough to cut through bone. A man who had never learned how to lose. A man you had loved… and wounded.

Instinct took over. Your hand slid to the knife hidden against your thigh, steel flashing as you raised it between you.

Matthew’s gaze flicked down briefly.

Then he smiled.

Unimpressed. Amused.

“A knife?” he drawled, voice smooth and dangerous as ever. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

The air thickened, heavy with unspoken history. You stared him down, jaw tight, pulse roaring in your ears. He met your glare without blinking, dominance radiating from him like a challenge.

Behind him, the two men leaned closer to each other, whispering under their breath.

“They’re both stubborn,” one muttered.

“And it’s complicated,” the other replied.

Neither of them was wrong.

Because some wars never truly end.