The warehouse on Via Della Cala reeked of mold and rust.
Zayne stood in the shadows, his black coat unmoving as two of his men pried open the third crate.
Nothing.
Just another pile of rotted wood and old wine bottles — useless. Another dead end. Another lie.
Luca kicked the crate with a sharp curse. "This was supposed to be it. The guy said Moretti used to run weapons through this route in the early 2000s."
Zayne didn't speak.
He just stared at the floor — cold, still, dangerous.
"This is the fifth one this month, Zayne," Luca muttered. "Maybe the Lion isn't here. Maybe we're chasing ghosts."
Zayne turned slowly. "He's not a ghost. He's breathing. I just haven't cornered him yet."
Luca rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, but if we keep following the same false trails, you'll lose more time. It's been seventeen years, boss."
Zayne's jaw tightened. "Don't tell me what I already know."
Luca hesitated. "I'm saying maybe you should—"
"—Drop it?" Zayne snapped. His voice cut like a blade. "Take a break? Stop chasing the man who slaughtered my father like an animal in front of me?"
The room fell dead silent.
Luca met his gaze but didn't answer.
Zayne turned away and waved his hand. "Get out. All of you."
"Zayne—"
"I said out."
---
The room emptied.
Only the echo of footsteps remained, until even that faded.
Zayne stood in the middle of the warehouse, breathing in the cold air. Then something inside him cracked.
He grabbed a metal chair and flung it across the room. It slammed into the wall with a loud crash.
Another. And another.
A table overturned.
A rusted pipe flew like a javelin and smashed a stack of crates.
He let out a rough breath and dropped to a nearby bench.
Elbows on knees.
Hands to his face.
The silence pressed in again.
---
And then came the memory.
Like a whisper.
Like smoke.
---
He was seven.
Barefoot on the marble floors of the family villa.
His father's laugh echoing off the walls.
"Zayne! You can't outrun me forever!"
He squealed and ducked behind the grand piano. His father found him anyway, scooping him up, spinning him through the air.
"Someday, you'll be taller than me," his father said, pressing their foreheads together. "But never forget — I'm always in your blood. Always."
Zayne had grinned. "Promise?"
His father smiled. "Swear on my soul."
---
Zayne opened his eyes.
The memory left him hollow.
His fingers curled into fists.
He had sworn to make the man who destroyed that warmth pay.
And yet... every step forward felt like walking in fog.
---
The warehouse door creaked.
Luca stepped in cautiously. "I brought you water."
Zayne didn't answer.
Luca sat beside him and passed him the bottle.
They sat in silence for a long time.
Finally, Luca said, "You don't have to carry it alone, you know."
"I don't need sympathy."
"I'm not offering it."
Zayne sipped the water.
Luca continued, "You're my brother, not just my boss. But if this case burns you alive before you solve it... your father wouldn't want that."
Zayne's voice was low. "You didn't know my father."
"I knew what he meant to you. And I know what this is doing to you."
Zayne said nothing.
Luca added, "You need a distraction. Something clean. Take the night off."
"I don't know what to do with peace."
Luca smirked. "That's why I'm driving. Come on."
---
One Hour Later — Palermo Museum of Antiquity
Zayne leaned against the cool marble wall of the museum, letting the silence settle into his bones.
He didn't know why he came here.
Luca had suggested a drink, a club — something loud. But Zayne asked him to stop here first.
The museum was quiet. Almost empty. A few late tourists wandered. Soft jazz played in the background. The scent of dust and polished stone filled the air.
Zayne walked past ancient weapons displays, faded Roman maps, and glass cases holding jewelry from forgotten wars.
He stopped in front of a curved silver dagger with lion carvings.
Of course.
His past followed him everywhere.
---
And then he saw her.
Just ahead, her back to him, standing at a scroll display near the corner.
Hair pulled into a loose braid. Simple white blouse. Long flowy pants. Her fingers lightly touching the edge of a golden-edged book, reading the small placard beneath it.
Zayne didn't move.
Something about her presence calmed the tension in his chest — like water over fire.
It was her again.
The girl from the street. The bar. The name he hadn't been able to shake.
Amira.
He watched her in silence.
He didn't understand why she lingered in his mind. Why something about her voice replayed in his head when everything else was chaos.
She turned suddenly, and their eyes met.
She froze. Just for a moment.
Then slowly, she smiled.
"I should've guessed you'd haunt quiet places," she said softly, walking toward him.
Zayne tilted his head. "I could say the same."
"You stalking me?"
"Coincidence."
She raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Dangerous word."
He didn't answer.
She stood beside him now, looking at the dagger in the case.
"You like weapons?"
"They're honest."
Amira laughed lightly. "And yet, so quiet in glass."
Zayne watched her profile. Her skin glowed under the warm museum lights.
"You always hang out in museums?" he asked.
"I work here."
"Not everyone has bodyguards and black suits, you know," she teased.
Zayne gave the faintest smirk. "You've been watching me."
Amira shrugged. "You stand out."
He turned his gaze back to the case. "You don't."
She looked at him. "And yet… here we are again."
---
They stood in silence for a beat.
Amira spoke softly. "You ever think people meet for a reason?"
"No."
"Of course you don't," she said with a small grin.
But inside… she was wondering.
Why this man? Why now?
And Zayne…
He didn't believe in fate.
But she was starting to mess with his order.
---
"I should go," Amira said, taking a step back. "Long day."
Zayne nodded.
She turned to leave, but then paused. "You know… next time, you should introduce yourself first."
Zayne blinked. "I did."
She smiled. "One name isn't an introduction."
Then she walked away.
Zayne watched her go.
And the silence returned.
But it didn't feel so heavy anymore.
---
Later That Night — Back at the Villa
Zayne walked into the study and tossed his coat on the chair. Luca was there, scribbling notes on a case file.
"You look... less murder-y," Luca said without looking up.
Zayne didn't smile. But his voice was softer. "I need a favor."
Luca looked up. "What kind?"
"Discreet."
Luca raised an eyebrow.
"There's a girl," Zayne said.
Luca leaned back. "A girl? Since when do you care about girls that don't bleed secrets?"
Zayne gave him a sharp look. "I'm serious."
Luca nodded slowly. "Okay. Who is she?"
"Name's Amira. I don't know her last name. She works at the museum downtown. I want to know who she is. Where she's from. Quietly."
Luca stared at him for a long moment.
"Boss… you think she's connected?"
Zayne shook his head. "No. That's not it."
"Then what?"
Zayne didn't answer immediately. He walked to the window, stared out at the stars.
"Something about her feels… different."
"You're curious?"
Zayne's eyes narrowed. "I want to understand why."
Luca nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll dig."
"Keep it out of our files. I don't want her flagged. This isn't... a job."
Luca tilted his head. "You like her."
Zayne didn't reply.
He didn't have to.