The words hung in the air like fragile glass—"Take me somewhere safe."
Leonardo didn't hesitate. He wrapped his coat around Noor's trembling form, his eyes scanning the shadows beyond the alley. With one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other protectively guiding her into the car, he exhaled slowly, as if releasing a part of himself he didn't know he held.
Noor sat silently, her gaze fixed on the darkness outside the window. Leonardo didn't ask questions—yet. He knew this wasn't the time. She had trusted him, not with affection, not with admiration, but with something far rarer.
Her safety.
As they drove, the city lights faded into the distance. Leonardo made no calls, used no GPS. He was careful, his routes winding, unpredictable. When they finally reached a narrow lane shrouded in overgrown trees, he stopped outside an old stone villa guarded by a high wrought-iron gate.
"This is my mother's old summer home," he said softly, unlocking the gate. "No one knows it's still in my name."
Noor nodded but didn't speak. She followed him inside the quiet house. The place smelled of lavender and aged wood, like the past holding its breath. It felt untouched—unspoiled.
Inside, Leonardo handed her a clean towel and pointed to the guest bathroom. "Take your time. I'll bring you something warm."
Noor stared at him, her eyes wide. She expected him to question her. Demand explanations. But instead, he walked away.
—
She emerged half an hour later, hair damp, skin pale, wearing one of the oversized shirts he'd left on the bed. Leonardo was by the fireplace, a blanket and a tray of warm soup waiting. His gaze flicked toward her and immediately dropped to the floor—not out of shame, but respect.
"Eat. You need strength," he said, his voice firm yet quiet.
Noor sat down and took a sip. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was... necessary.
Leonardo finally spoke, not asking what had happened, but rather: "Is there anyone you want me to inform? Anyone who worries for you?"
She shook her head. "No one knows I'm here. No one would care."
"That's not true," he said without hesitation. "I care."
She looked at him sharply. "You barely know me."
"I know enough. I know pain when I see it. And you've been walking through fire."
Her fingers trembled around the bowl. She didn't want to cry—but her soul was drenched.
"I overheard them," she whispered finally. "The people your men were meeting with... they weren't just trading weapons. They're planning something bigger—an attack."
Leonardo's jaw tightened. "Where?"
"I'm not sure. But it involves a mosque. I saw pictures. Bomb schematics."
Leonardo swore under his breath. He stood up, pacing. Then, instead of interrogating her, he stopped and knelt beside her.
"You're not just brave. You're... extraordinary. You came to me instead of running. That means something."
Noor swallowed. "I didn't know who else to trust."
He gave her a sad smile. "And yet I'm the devil in most stories."
"But devils don't offer safety. You did."
—
The next morning, Leonardo made several encrypted calls from the garden, careful not to alert suspicion. His network was vast, but he couldn't risk the wrong word getting out. Noor watched him from the window, her heart pounding. She had changed something in him—she could feel it.
Later, when he returned inside, he handed her a small notebook.
"What's this?"
"Everything I know about the ones who were in that meeting. Read it carefully. You might recognize a face or a name. It could help."
Noor flipped through it. She gasped as she saw a familiar ring in a photo—a serpent engraved in gold.
"That ring... the man wearing it was speaking in Urdu. He called someone 'Mian'..."
Leonardo's expression darkened. "Mian Rahim. One of the most dangerous arms dealers in Eastern Europe. I've only met him once—he never forgets a face."
"Then I'm not safe," Noor whispered.
"You're safer here than anywhere else," Leonardo said firmly. "And I won't let anyone touch you."
—
The following nights were riddled with tension. Leonardo took shifts guarding the villa himself, refusing to sleep. Noor insisted he rest, but he only said, "I can't afford sleep when you might wake up afraid."
Every time she opened her eyes and saw him there—near the door, by the fire, watching over her—her heart softened. Not out of romance. Out of realization.
He saw her as a person first. Not property. Not prey.
One evening, as thunder rolled across the sky, Noor found herself by the fireplace again. Leonardo was reading something—an old prayer book in Arabic. She stared in surprise.
"I didn't expect you to understand Arabic."
"I don't. Not yet," he said. "But I want to."
She looked at him, eyes narrowing. "Why?"
He met her gaze. "Because your faith gives you strength. I've seen it. And I want to understand the light you carry."
Silence.
A storm cracked the night sky.
"I don't hate you anymore," she whispered.
Leonardo chuckled softly. "That's a start."
—
The peace didn't last. Three days later, an anonymous message appeared on Leonardo's private server: "We know where she is."
He showed it to Noor without hiding anything. "They're tracking us. We need to move."
"But you said—"
"I was wrong. This place is no longer safe."
She looked terrified, but she nodded. She trusted him now—not just with her safety, but with her soul.
They left before sunrise, heading to an abandoned monastery high in the hills. No one would expect a mafia boss to hide in a place of worship.
The irony wasn't lost on either of them.
—
It was at the monastery that Noor finally told him everything—about her brother's involvement with Rahim, about how she had discovered the plot, how she barely escaped. She cried for the first time in front of him.
And Leonardo didn't move closer. He didn't touch her.
He simply said, "Thank you for trusting me."
—
As the days passed, they worked together—compiling evidence, decoding notes, building a file strong enough to dismantle the operation.
Late one night, Noor looked at him and asked, "Why are you helping me? This doesn't benefit your business. If anything, it's a risk."
Leonardo looked away. "Because when I saw you in that alley, I saw something I lost a long time ago. Innocence. Courage. A heart not hardened by greed."
She said nothing.
"And because," he added after a pause, "I want to be someone you're never afraid of."
Noor's breath caught.
In that moment, she saw it—the truth. Leonardo wasn't changing because of her beauty, her softness, or some shallow spark. He was changing because she made him look inward.
He respected her not for what she gave him, but for what she withheld—her trust, her words, her story—until she was certain.
—
The chapter ends with a betrayal.
One of Leonardo's most trusted men, Enzo, tracks them down—not to save them, but to sell them out.
As bullets echo through the monastery walls, Noor hides behind the altar, whispering a prayer.
Leonardo is bleeding.
Enzo stands over him with a gun.
And just when it seems like all is lost—Noor emerges, her hands shaking, holding Leonardo's old gun. She points it at Enzo and says:
"Step away from him. Or I swear by the One you don't believe in—I will pull the trigger."
Enzo laughs.
"You? You're just a girl."
She fires.
The bullet grazes his arm—but it's enough.
Leonardo seizes the moment, disarms him, and slams him unconscious.
Blood everywhere. Breathing ragged.
As Leonardo slumps, he looks at Noor and whispers:
"You're not just brave. You're divine."
She presses a hand to his wound and says:
"Don't die. I still need answers."
He chuckles faintly. "Then I'll live."
—