Chapter 1 Rise of a Silent Flame

The first time Ava Cole met Nico DeLuca, she wasn't supposed to be there.

She was supposed to clock out at midnight, walk home with her earbuds in, and ignore the sirens like every other night. But fate has a cruel sense of humor-and sometimes, so does love.

The gunshot cracked through the alley like thunder. Ava had just tossed a bag of trash into the dumpster behind Club Inferno when the echo made her flinch.

She froze.

Then came the voices-low, angry, fast-and her pulse stuttered. She turned slowly, peeking around the corner.

That's when she saw him.

A man stood facing three others. The tension between them was a noose pulled tight. The one standing alone wore a suit that didn't belong in an alley. His stance was calm. Arrogantly so. But Ava noticed the blood blooming through his white shirt near the ribs. He was hurt. Still, he looked them all in the eye like he wasn't the one outnumbered.

Nico DeLuca.

She didn't know his name yet. Only that something about him radiated danger and gravity all at once. The kind of man people either followed or feared. Or both.

The guy closest to him raised a gun.

Ava's breath caught. Her heart beat against her ribs like a war drum.

She should've run.

She should've stayed hidden.

Instead, her eyes dropped to the gun on the ground beside a dead man slumped against the brick wall. It was close-just a few feet away from where she stood frozen.

She hesitated.

The man cocked the weapon.

Nico didn't flinch.

And Ava... moved.

She lunged forward, fingers closing around the cold metal. The world went silent. Her lungs forgot how to breathe. Her hand shook.

The man with the gun turned.

Ava raised the weapon.

Bang.

Everything stopped.

He fell.

For a heartbeat, the alley was still. Then the remaining two men ran-gone into the night like shadows melting into fog.

Ava dropped the gun.

She was shaking all over now, adrenaline crashing through her veins like a tidal wave.

Nico turned to her slowly. Blood stained his shirt. His gaze locked on hers-and something passed between them in the space of one breath.

Not fear.

Not panic.

Recognition.

Like two storms meeting.

"You're bleeding," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked down at himself and back at her. "You shot him."

"I didn't mean to-" she swallowed. "I didn't even know if I would. I just..."

"You hesitated."

She nodded.

"But then you didn't."

Ava blinked, trying to steady her breath. "Are you... Are you okay?"

"You saved my life."

That's when her knees finally gave out. She staggered back against the wall and slid to the ground.

He crouched in front of her. "What's your name?"

"Ava," she said, dazed. "I work at the club."

Nico's eyes flicked toward the door at the end of the alley, then back to her. "You're the bartender."

"Was."

His lips twitched into something not quite a smile. "Not anymore."

She frowned. "What?"

"You just stepped into something that doesn't forget," he said. "You shot one of Mikhail Vetra's men. You saved me. That makes you part of this now."

She stared at him. "I didn't do it for you."

"No," he said. "You did it because you didn't want to watch someone die."

Her breath hitched.

"And because somewhere deep down," he continued, "you knew you could."

They were too close. He smelled like blood, smoke, and expensive danger. But his voice was steady. Calm. Reassuring in a way it shouldn't have been.

"You're scared," he said softly.

She looked away. "You think?"

"But you did it anyway."

Ava didn't know why the way he said that made her want to cry. Maybe it was the awe in his voice. Or maybe it was the fact that he was looking at her like she was made of iron, not panic.

"I've killed before," he said, almost to himself. "Men twice your size with no hesitation. But no one's ever looked as beautiful doing it as you just did."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "What?"

Nico chuckled. "Maybe I'm losing blood. Or maybe you're just the first honest thing I've seen in years."

Ava didn't respond. Couldn't.

His eyes lingered on her a beat longer. Then he stood, offering her his hand.

She stared at it.

"I'm not part of your world," she said, shaking her head. "I'm nobody."

"Not anymore."

He slipped a sleek black card into her palm-wordless.

She didn't take his hand. Not yet.

But she didn't run either.