The Regent did not sit like a king.
He didn't need to.
He stood with his back to the window, watching the snowfall blur the edge of Rome's skyline. The room was dim, lit only by a single lamp on the far desk. Shadows held the corners like loyal guards.
Amira didn't move from where she stood.
Not because she was afraid—fear had come and gone the moment she saw his face—but because something about him told her stillness was the safest option.
His presence was nothing like Leonardo's. Leonardo radiated heat, urgency, the kind of danger that was loud in the bones.
But The Regent…
He was quiet danger. Patient. The kind of man who killed only when he was finished thinking.
And he was always thinking.
Finally, he spoke.
"You walked into my domain without permission." His voice was low and rich, the tone of a man who never needed to raise it. "Either you are very brave, or very foolish."
Her palms were damp inside her gloves. "I came for your son."
A slow exhale left him as if the word son tasted bitter.
"That boy," he murmured. "Always dragging storms behind him."
He turned at last.
And she saw it properly—the same bone structure as Leonardo, the same eyes but colder, the same sharpness in the mouth. Not a resemblance.
A blueprint.
Everything Leonardo had inherited came from this man, but twisted by pain, loss, and the choices he made.
"You know where he is," Amira said.
He studied her with a surgeon's precision.
"You're shaking."
"Because you're dangerous," she replied honestly. "Not because I'm scared of you."
One of his brows lifted.
"Interesting distinction."
He stepped toward her—slow, controlled movements, no wasted energy. With each step, the air around him seemed to tighten.
When he halted two meters from her, she felt it:
A shift.
Like gravity had changed.
"And what," he asked softly, "makes you think Leonardo wants to be found?"
Her jaw clenched. "Because he didn't disappear to escape me. He disappeared to protect me."
A flicker crossed The Regent's expression. Not surprise—amusement, maybe. Or irritation.
"So he told you nothing."
"No," she said, "he told me everything. Just not the way you think."
"And what do you think you know, girl?"
"That he's hurting. And he's alone."
The Regent's eyes hardened.
"He prefers it that way."
"No," she said quietly. "He's just convinced himself that he does."
Silence hung between them.
Snow continued falling outside.
The Regent's hand lifted slightly—not to strike, not to threaten, but as if testing the air around her.
"Do you love him?" he asked.
The question landed like a trap.
She did not hesitate.
"Yes."
The Regent inhaled slowly, nostrils flaring as if her answer carried a scent.
"And you believe," he said carefully, "that love is enough to pull him back from the abyss he chose?"
"No," she said. "But it's enough to follow him into it."
This time, the flicker was very clear.
Surprise.
"Most people fear the Syndicate," he murmured. "Fear me." A pause. "Yet you walk straight toward destruction because of one man."
"Not one man," she corrected softly. "Leonardo."
The Regent stared at her for several seconds, his expression unreadable.
Then he moved behind his desk.
He opened a drawer, pulled out a thin metallic case, and placed it gently on the surface between them.
"Before you open this," he said, "you must understand something."
She stepped closer.
"You are not the first person to chase Leonardo."
Her heart lurched.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," The Regent said calmly, "you need to know the difference between chasing someone in love and chasing someone who is burning the world behind him."
He tapped the case.
"Open it."
Amira lifted the latch.
Inside lay several photographs—some old, some recent. All of them showed Leonardo with different people: operatives, allies, informants.
And each photo had something in common.
Every person beside him was dead.
Shot.
Poisoned.
Missing.
Amira felt her stomach twist.
The Regent watched her closely.
"You see," he said, "there is a pattern. People try to follow him. They try to save him. And they end up buried in unmarked ground."
Amira swallowed hard and closed the case.
"I'm not them."
The Regent's expression tightened.
"That is what they said."
She pushed the case back toward him.
"I don't need proof of danger. I already knew what I was walking into."
"You think you know," he said. "But you are a child standing in front of a war machine."
"Then teach me how to survive it."
Silence.
A long one.
Then The Regent leaned forward slightly.
"You are a lawyer, yes?"
Amira's pulse stuttered—she had never told him that. Neither had anyone else.
His faint smile answered her unspoken question.
"I know everything about anyone connected to my blood," he said. "Including you."
She forced her voice steady.
"So what does my job have to do with any of this?"
"It means," he said, "you understand consequences. Logic. Evidence." His gaze sharpened. "Then use that logic: If Leonardo wanted to be found, would he not have left you a path? A sign? A door to follow?"
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Because he had left something.
Not a sign for her to find him.
A warning for her not to.
The Regent saw the realization land.
"Good," he said. "You are not entirely blind."
"But I'm still not leaving."
His eyes hardened again.
"Your presence here puts a target on both of you. The Syndicate is not your only enemy now. The factions inside the organization want you gone. And some of them…" He paused. "…answer only to me."
Amira held his gaze.
"So call them off."
The Regent stepped around the desk until he stood directly in front of her.
"You do not command me."
"No," she said simply, "but you don't want your son dead. And if I die, he will break beyond repair. That's not what you trained him for."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
For the first time, she felt it—
Not fear.
Conflict.
Genuine conflict.
"You're bold," he said quietly. "Almost foolishly so."
"It's not boldness," she replied. "It's truth."
He exhaled sharply through his nose, pacing once before turning back to her.
"Leonardo is with a man called Moritz Vass," he said at last.
Her breath caught.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"That he is not hiding." The Regent's voice dropped. "He is negotiating."
"Negotiating what?"
"A trade."
Amira frowned. "What kind of trade?"
"The kind that will destroy him," The Regent said. "Unless someone pulls him out before it's sealed."
Her pulse hammered.
"Where?"
The Regent stepped closer, lowering his voice as if the walls were listening.
"A compound outside Vienna. Three layers of protection. Two hundred armed enforcers. And a man who believes Leonardo's life belongs to him."
Amira felt the room tilt faintly.
Vienna.
Leonardo was that close?
"Why didn't you go after him?" she asked.
The Regent's jaw hardened like stone.
"Because he chose this path. Because he defied me publicly. Because he told me that if I stepped foot near him, he would sever ties permanently."
Amira's breath tangled in her chest.
"You're afraid he'll hate you."
The Regent gave her a sharp look.
But he didn't deny it.
"Leonardo," he said quietly, "is a man built on wounds. He listens to no one. But you…" His voice lowered further. "You are the variable. The one piece I did not calculate."
She felt something shift in the air almost like recognition.
"You have two choices now," The Regent said. "Walk away and let him destroy himself. Or go after him and risk him destroying you too."
"I've already chosen," she whispered.
The Regent stared at her, searching for cracks.
He found none.
Finally, he opened a small drawer, pulled out a folded map and an encrypted card, and handed them to her.
"This is the last thing I give you," he said. "And when you walk out of this door, you walk into war."
She took the items.
Her fingers brushed his.
His eyes flickered—not with warmth, but with a strange, reluctant respect.
"You are not ready," he said softly. "But you will go anyway."
"Yes."
He stepped back.
"One more thing."
She stopped at the door.
"Leonardo is not the only one in danger." His voice grew cold. "If Moritz Vass realizes who you are to him, he will use you as leverage. Or worse."
"I know."
"No," he said. "You do not. Vass is not a man. He is a knife that learned how to walk."
Amira's breath caught.
"And Leonardo," The Regent added quietly, "is the one who sharpened him."
The door behind her felt heavier than steel.
"Go," The Regent said. "Before I change my mind and lock you inside this room for your own safety."
Amira didn't look back.
She stepped into the corridor, gripping the map, gripping the card, gripping the faint thread of hope she refused to let go.
But just before the door shut, she heard The Regent whisper to himself:
"She will break him. Or save him. There is no middle."
And somewhere in Vienna
Leonardo stepped closer to his own doom, unaware that she had already begun the journey to reach him.