Auto Saved Word Count 120831/70
The roar of the heavy diesel engines filled the warehouse, a low-frequency vibration that rattled the glass in the overhead offices. Three massive, unmarked tactical trucks sat idling, their trailers reinforced with lead plating to shield the volatile silver-nitrate cargo from any external interference. This wasn't just a delivery; it was a lifeline.
Lexa stood by the lead vehicle, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched Killian finish securing the final latch. He moved with a heavy, rhythmic grace, despite the dark circles under his eyes and the bandages still hidden beneath his shirt. She had spent the last hour treating him like a common laborer, barking orders and sneering at his every movement, yet he hadn't snapped back once.
His silence was infuriating. It was as if he were holding a mirror up to her cruelty, letting her see exactly how ugly her pride had become.
"The route is mapped through the Brenner Pass," Vincenzo said, stepping up to Lexa with a rugged GPS tablet. "It's the fastest way to the Blackwood border, but it's rogue territory. They know this shipment is moving, Lexa. They'll be smelling the silver like sharks smelling blood."
"Which is why I'm going," Lexa said, her voice like flint.
Vincenzo paused, his brow furrowing. "Boss, that's not the plan. You stay here and manage the Syndicate. Let me take the Alpha and the strike team."
"No," Lexa snapped, her gaze flickering toward Killian. "The Blackwood Elders won't sign the mining rights over to a captain. They need to see the Romano head. And I don't trust our 'guest' not to divert this cargo the second he hits the mountain air."
It was a lie, and they both knew it. Killian would never sabotage the medicine his pack needed to survive. But Lexa couldn't stay in Rome. The walls of the estate felt like they were closing in on her, haunted by the ghost of the night before. She needed the movement. She needed the danger.
"Fine," Vincenzo sighed, sensing the steel in her tone. "But you're in the lead truck. With him."
Lexa's heart gave a traitorous thud against her ribs. "He's the only one who knows the back-roads if the Pass is blocked. It's a tactical necessity."
"Whatever you say, Boss."
Killian approached them, wiping grease and rain from his hands with a dark rag. He stopped a respectful distance away, his amber eyes fixed on Lexa's face. He had seen the way she had been avoiding his gaze all morning, and he had felt every barb she had thrown his way.
"The trucks are ready," he said, his voice a low, steady rumble. "If we leave now, we'll hit the foothills by dusk. The mountain air will make the wolves restless, Alessandra. You should be prepared for a fight."
"I'm always prepared, Killian," she said, her voice dripping with a forced coldness. "Get in the driver's seat. I'll handle the navigation."
The transition from the fortified safety of Rome to the open highway was jarring. As the convoy pulled out onto the A1, the urban sprawl slowly gave way to the rolling greens of the Italian countryside. Inside the cab of the lead truck, the atmosphere was suffocating. The space was small, designed for utility, forcing Lexa to sit close enough to Killian that she could feel the heat radiating off his thigh.
The scent of him now mixed with the metallic tang of silver and diesel filled the small cabin.
Lexa focused intently on the tablet in her lap, her fingers scrolling through terrain maps she had already memorized. She refused to look at him. She refused to acknowledge the way his large hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white with the effort of restraint.
"Why are you really coming, Lexa?" Killian asked after an hour of silence.
"I told you. To secure the mining rights," she replied, her voice clipped.
"You could have sent a lawyer for that. You could have sent a dozen men with power of attorney," Killian countered. He didn't turn his head, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "You're coming because you're afraid to be alone with your thoughts in that house."
Lexa's grip on the tablet tightened until her knuckles ached. "You think you know me so well? You think because you saw me at a weak moment last night, you have a map of my soul? You're a prisoner, Killian. You're a means to an end. Don't confuse a moment of biological frustration for a connection."
Killian let out a soft, huffed breath that might have been a laugh if it weren't so sad. "Is that what we're calling it now? Biological frustration?"
"That's exactly what it was," she hissed, finally turning to glare at his profile. "I am a woman with needs, and you were available. It could have been any man in my guard. You just happened to be the one standing in front of me."
The lie tasted like ash in her mouth. She saw Killian's jaw set, a muscle leaping in his cheek. He didn't argue. He didn't point out the way she had looked at him, or the way she had whispered his name like it was a prayer.
"If that's the story you need to tell yourself to keep that crown on your head, then fine," he said quietly. "But the North doesn't care about your stories, Lexa. Up there, the moon is the only law. And the moon knows exactly who we are to each other."
"The moon can go to hell," she muttered, turning back to the window.
As the sun began to dip behind the horizon, the landscape changed. The rolling hills flattened out, and in the distance, the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Alps began to rise like the teeth of a giant. This was the edge of the civilized world. This was where the Mafia's reach grew thin and the Lycan's power grew absolute.
They were heading into the heart of the Blackwood territory, the place where she had been rejected, the place where she had almost died, and the place where her son's heritage was buried in the soil.
Lexa looked at her reflection in the darkened glass of the window. Her eyes looked tired, her mouth set in a grim line. She was the Shadow Queen, heading back to the kingdom that had exiled her, sitting next to the man who had broken her.
The truck hit a bump, and her shoulder brushed against his. For a split second, the spark of the bond flared a warm, golden hum that whispered of safety and home. She jerked away as if she had been burned, her heart racing.
"Eighteen hours," she whispered to herself, staring at the GPS. "Just eighteen hours, and then I'm done with him."
But as the first howl of a distant wolf echoed through the mountain pass, Lexa realized that eighteen hours in this truck might be the longest trial of her life.