Elisa didn't flinch,she stood frozen for the briefest moment, calculating. One shadow in the corner of her room,one unannounced presence,one voice she recognized.
Her mind raced, scanning possibilities. Who could it be? Friend? Foe? Ghosts from the past?
"Step into the light," she said, keeping her her voice calm, and steady. No tremor betrayed the adrenaline hammering in her chest.
The figure shifted, stepping closer. Candlelight reflected off a sharp line of cheekbone, the faint gleam of dark hair, a movement that felt both familiar and dangerous.
"Elisa," the figure said again. "You can't do this alone."Recognition hit like ice.
It was Isa Cruz.Her closest ally from another life, one she had long buried under layers of secrecy and duty. The woman had escaped the agency years ago, vanished without a trace, and survived. A ghost who always seemed untouchable,and now… she was here.
"Elena Cruz is supposed to be alone," Elisa said,Carefully,and deliberately. Words controlled, emotion restrained.
Isa's eyes softened slightly, but the edge remained. "You think they'll let you be alone? You're walking into the lion's den, Elisa,and you don't even know the cages inside."
Elisa's hands remained at her sides. "I've done worse."
"You've survived worse." Isa's voice was sharper now, warning,and scolding . "But this… this isn't just another mission, this is him, Luca Moretti. You know the stories."
Elisa felt a familiar tightening in her chest,a mixture of adrenaline and anticipation,but she refused to let it show. "I know what I'm doing," she said.
Isa shook her head, almost imperceptibly. "Do you? You have no idea what he is,and worse… no idea what you'll become if you step into his world."
Elisa's eyes narrowed, and she replied "I'll become what I've always been."
Isa didn't argue,she never did when Elisa set her jaw like that. She simply handed her a small device,a thumb-sized recorder,black and unmarked.
"Something to keep you ahead," she added.Keep it hidden. Every detail you gather… it's not just for the agency. It's for you too."
Elisa took it, weighing the gift,It was small and simple, but it carried the weight of trust that could save,or destroy her.
"I don't need protection," she said, almost reflexively.
Isa laughed in a way that was low, sardonic, and bitter. "You've never needed protection. You've never been human either. That's the point, isn't it? Elena Cruz is the perfect mask, but the mask doesn't breathe, doesn't feel… and it certainly doesn't love. Not yet."
Elisa's fingers brushed the device in her palm and stayed quiet.She didn't have to respond and Isa understood.
The two women stood for a long moment in silence, candlelight flickering between them, shadows dancing on the walls like ghosts of lives they'd lost.
Finally, Isa's voice dropped to a whisper. "Remember this, "Masks aren't just worn,they're lived". You're going to be Elena Cruz,not Elisa.Not for anyone, not even me."
Elisa nodded subtly. Pacing back and forth,she already felt the shift within her,the anticipation of becoming someone else, someone calculated, untouchable. The thrill she had lived for countless missions pulsed faintly beneath her skin.
Isa's eyes lingered on hers. "Be careful. And don't fall." she said
Elisa understood the meaning. Not fall for him,not fall apart. Not fall prey to her own instincts.
The candle flickered once more, then steadied. Isa gave a small, almost invisible nod, turned, and disappeared into the shadows from which she had come.
Alone again, Elisa exhaled. Not out of fear,never fear,but out of focus. Her mind sharpened. She spread the folder across her desk, examining every detail of her new identity. Elena Cruz. A wealthy, cultured international art buyer. Sophisticated, charming, and observant. Everything calculated to attract attention without drawing suspicion.
She flipped through photos of Luca's empire, social circles, and allies, committing them to memory. Every glance, every gesture, every hint of vulnerability or power he had exhibited in the dossiers became a mental map she would carry with her.
This time, she wasn't just a weapon, she was a puzzle solver. She had to anticipate his moves, see through every potential deception, and survive his unpredictability.
Her reflection caught in the window. Sharp brown eyes, long dark hair, calm expression, a weapon. a shadow,a mask that could charm, seduce, and destroy.
But beneath the mask, something stirred,a feeling she hadn't felt in years. Something she buried deep under years of training and conditioning. And that was Curiosity.
She was curious not about the mission, but about him.
Luca Moretti.
She pushed the thought aside. Emotional attachments were weakness and She reminded herself; He was the target and
nothing more.
Yet, as she packed her suitcase carefully not to leave a single trace of hesitation,her mind drifted back to Isa's warning: Don't fall.
It echoed in her head like a countdown.
By midnight, Elisa had reviewed every aspect of her fabricated life. Every alias, every accent, every small habitual gesture. Elena Cruz wasn't just a name,she was a persona she would breathe, think, and become.
Her bags were packed; clothing, travel documents, weapons hidden in plain sight, the small recorder from Isa tucked into a pocket no one would suspect. Every detail aligned with her cover.
She took one last look around her quarters. The room was bare,minimalist, functional,and Perfect for someone with no past, no attachments, and no home.
She locked the door, but not before checking the frame for tampering. Nothing.
Her commute to the airport would be simple. Early morning flight,nonstop to Milan. The mission had already begun, even if she wasn't on the ground yet.
She settled onto the small couch near the window and allowed herself a single moment of reflection.
Elisa Vega was trained for this. She had executed dozens of missions that others would die trying,but something about this one felt different. Not because of the target. Not because of the stakes,but because Luca Moretti was different,and she could feel it even now
The night stretched into hours as she ran through mental simulations. Scenarios played like a film reel; How she would approach him at the gala,what words to say to draw him in without tipping her hand,how to deflect questions he might ask that could reveal inconsistencies,how to anticipate his instincts, how to read his micro expressions,and how to respond with controlled charm.
She imagined his eyes scanning her, calculating, searching for deception. The thought made her pulse quicken,not out of fear, not exactly, but something new,something sharp and unanticipated.
She adjusted her posture, practiced the tilt of her head, the measured inflection of her voice. Elena Cruz had to be perfect.
And Elisa would be perfect.
At 3 a.m., sleep became impossible.
She stared at her reflection in the darkened window. Outside, the city was quiet, unaware of the predator preparing to step into its streets.
Elisa allowed herself a small, fleeting thought,what if she wasn't just infiltrating Luca's world?
What if he was the first person capable of seeing through her?
The thought was dangerous. Dangerous and exhilarating.
She shook her head, dismissing it. He is the target. Not the man.
Her fingers lingered on the recorder from Isa. She could use it for intel. She could use it to save herself if things went wrong. She could even use it to manipulate him, if necessary.
But for the first time, she realized she wanted more than data.
She pushed the feeling down, buried it where it belonged.
Emotion was weakness.
Emotion was death.
The Morning Departure
Dawn came slowly. Pale light seeped through the curtains, brushing across her face, warming the edges of her sharp features.
Her cab arrived on time. She slipped inside, suitcase beside her, passport and boarding pass in hand.
The driver made idle conversation in Italian, and Elisa replied politely, perfectly, blending into the world without leaving a trace of her own.
She felt like someone was watching her,not with actual eyes, but somewhere in the back of her mind. That feeling never really left. Someone was always observing, always judging.
The airport terminal was bustling, filled with businessmen, tourists, and travelers unaware that one of their number was walking into a trap.
Elisa moved deliberately, seamlessly, through security and customs, her mind running through the mental checklist of her first interactions in Milan.
Step one: observe.
Step two: integrate.
Step three: survive.
As she boarded the plane, Elisa slipped her hand into the pocket of her coat, fingers brushing the small recorder.
She didn't notice the shadow that had followed her from the terminal, silent, unseen. A figure watching her every move, waiting.
Because not everyone who knew of her mission intended to let her succeed.
And as the plane lifted into the sky, carrying Elisa toward her new life… she had no idea that the first test
of her disguise,and her resolve,was already unfolding below, on the tarmac, in the shadows, where someone was willing to kill to ensure she failed.