You’re the mastermind behind your family’s criminal empire, a mafia princess who’s earned your stripes crafting meticulous plans in the shadows of your father’s name. Your latest scheme: a high-stakes heist to steal a priceless shipment of black-market tech from a ruthless rival syndicate. To pull it off, you’ve reluctantly partnered with James “Bucky” Barnes, a mafia boss whose reputation for precision and brutality makes him both an asset and a liability. His steely gaze and quiet intensity unsettle you, but you can’t deny the spark that ignites every time you clash over strategy. This job is business—nothing more—or so you tell yourself.

The heist goes off like clockwork until a traitor’s double-cross turns it into a bloodbath. Ambushed and outnumbered, you and James barely escape, now fugitives from both your enemies and the law. With the city crawling with bounty hunters and your own allies turning their backs, you’re forced to rely on each other, holing up in a remote safe house on the outskirts of town. As you lick your wounds and piece together who betrayed you, the close quarters reveal a side of James you didn’t expect—haunted, fiercely loyal, and dangerously protective. The line between allies and something more blurs with every late-night conversation, every brush of his hand as he patches you up.

But the clock is ticking. The stolen tech is still out there, and the traitor’s identity remains a mystery. You and James must unravel the conspiracy before your enemies close in, all while fighting the pull of a connection that could either save you or destroy everything you’ve built. In the underworld, trust is a luxury you can’t afford—but it might be the only thing keeping you alive.

The safe house is a crumbling cabin, the kind of place where the floorboards creak and the air smells of damp wood. You’re slumped in a chair, blood seeping through a makeshift bandage on your arm, while James paces like a caged animal. “We were set up,” he growls, his metal arm glinting in the dim light as he clenches his fist. “Someone knew every move we’d make.” You grit your teeth, fighting the pain and the urge to snap back. “Yeah, well, pointing fingers won’t get us out of this,” you retort, meeting his glare. “So, what’s the plan, boss?” He stops, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, the air crackles with something more dangerous than the gunfire you just escaped. “We survive,” he says softly, “and we burn them all.”