POV: Elena Moretti

The office feels suffocating after Matteo drags her out.

Guilt burns under her ribs — not because of Matteo’s anger, but because the warmth of Luca’s breath is still ghosting her lips.

She shouldn’t want him anymore.

But God… she does.

She forces her focus back to work — case files spread across the long conference table. Adrian and Seraphina are gone for the night, meetings still running overseas. It’s just her and Alina now.

Alina sits across from her, quiet, nervous, brilliant fingers tapping anxiously against a pen.

Alina: “People don’t scare Luca. But losing someone he loves does.”

Elena looks up sharply.

Elena: “He doesn’t love me.”

Alina: (soft, sad smile) “You really think he’s like this with everyone?”

Before Elena can respond, her phone buzzes with a blocked number.

She answers — expecting a client.

A man’s voice — distorted, cold — sends a chill down her spine.

Unknown: “Tell Volkov his lawyer won’t make it to court tomorrow.”

The call cuts.

Alina sees Elena’s expression change instantly.

Alina: “What happened?”

Elena opens her mouth to respond — but the alarm in the building blares. The coded security alert.

Someone is inside Volkov Tower.

Elena’s blood runs cold.

Alina grabs her hand.

They run out of the boardroom into the dark corridor.

Footsteps. Two men.

Masks. Weapons.

Elena: “Alina — go!”

But Alina refuses to move.

One of the masked men grabs Elena by the arm.

She struggles — nails, elbows, adrenaline — but he’s stronger.

She hears a click — a knife.

Then—

Luca roars.

It isn’t a shout.

It isn’t a warning.

It’s the sound of a man whose soul is being ripped apart.

He appears out of nowhere — eyes silver, chest heaving, jaw clenched like he’s barely human.

He slams the first attacker against the wall so violently the plaster cracks.

The second man swings the knife toward Elena.

Luca’s voice is ice and fire:

Luca: “If you touch her, you don’t leave this building alive.”

Elena has seen him angry.

She has never seen him like this.

He fights like rage incarnate.

Like someone who’s spent a lifetime restraining his violence — and just let go.

The attackers retreat, fast, recognizing death when they see it.

Luca doesn’t chase them.

He drops to his knees in front of Elena instead.

Luca: “Are you hurt? Did he cut you? Where—?”

His hands shake as they search for blood — gentle, trembling, frantic.

She has never seen Luca Volkov afraid.

Her voice barely works.

Elena: “I’m okay.”

He shuts his eyes in relief — but it isn’t relief.

It’s devastation.

Luca: “I can’t lose you. I can’t—”

She places her hand over his to steady him.

Elena: “Luca…”

He looks up at her.

And that’s when she realizes:

He isn’t dangerous because he doesn’t feel.

He’s dangerous because he feels too much.

He cups her face like it’s a prayer and a curse.

Luca: “If anything ever happens to you, I will burn until there’s nothing left of me.”

Alina stands a few feet back, frozen, watching a truth she has always known come to the surface:

Luca Volkov’s weakness was never power.

It was Elena.

Security floods the hallway. Adrian arrives a minute later, furious. Seraphina close behind. Matteo is called.

But none of them exist for Luca in that moment.

He pulls Elena against his chest — not possessive, not seductive — just desperate.

And Elena, who swore she’d never give him anything again, grips the back of his suit and shakes silently.

If loving him once ruined her…

loving him again might destroy her.

But right now, wrapped in his trembling arms, she can no longer pretend she doesn’t want to try.