Chapter 5 - The Greenhouse Pact
Luca moved Wren to a property he trusted because almost nobody knew it belonged to him.
It was not a fortress.
That surprised her.
The house sat outside the city behind an abandoned nursery once owned by Luca’s mother. Three glass greenhouses stretched across the back acreage, their panes clouded by age. Inside, winter herbs and stubborn climbing roses had survived under automated lamps.
“My mother loved this place,” Luca said.
Wren looked at him.
“You brought a florist to a greenhouse safehouse?”
“I’m told location matters in hospitality.”
She smiled despite herself.
The smile disappeared when Luca explained the rules.
No public phone calls. No unscheduled trips. No staff except Marco and Dr. Park. Security cameras covered the road and tree line. Wren could leave if she insisted, but Luca would assign protection whether she liked it or not.
Wren hated the last part.
“I am not property.”
“I know.”
“Then stop talking like I’m cargo.”
Luca rubbed a hand over his face.
He was tired. The wound pulled at him whenever he stood too quickly, though he pretended otherwise.
“I don’t know how to keep you safe without sounding like I’m giving orders.”
“Try asking.”
He considered that.
“Will you accept protection until we know who targeted you?”
Wren waited long enough to make him uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“See? Look at you learning civilization.”
His laugh was silent to her, but she saw it in his shoulders.
The next two days became an uneasy rhythm.
Marco traced the recent shipping manifest. Wren decoded her grandfather’s flower system. Luca made calls from a secure office and gradually reduced the number of people who knew where he was.
At meals, Wren taught him ASL.
Not because it was necessary anymore.
Because he asked.
He learned FAMILY first by accident while asking about her grandfather. Then SORRY. Then WAIT. Then SAFE.
His favorite sign was STUBBORN.
He used it constantly.
Wren taught him RUDE in return.
At night, she slept badly.
Every shadow at the window looked like movement. Every vibration from the heating system woke her. Deafness had never frightened her before. She had lived in her body her entire life and trusted the tools she had built around it: flashing alarms, vibrating phone, mirrors positioned near work stations, bright sightlines.
Now the danger had changed.
People were actively trying to enter her world unseen.
On the third night, Luca found her in the greenhouse at two in the morning.
She was repotting a rose that did not need repotting.
He stood in the doorway until she noticed him.
“You should sleep,” he signed clumsily.
“So should you.”
He came closer.
Wren wore a sweatshirt and gardening gloves. Luca wore black pants and a white T-shirt, the bandage visible beneath the fabric at his side.
For once, neither looked like the role the city had assigned them.
He pointed toward the rose.
“Emergency?”
“Critical.”
They worked together.
Luca was terrible at soil.
He packed it too tightly, then spilled half a bag onto the floor.
Wren laughed so hard she had to sit down.
He stared at his dirt-covered hands.
“I command hundreds of men.”
“That explains the rose’s fear.”
Something shifted between them.
It had been building since the shop: the strange intimacy of survival, the way he watched her face when he spoke, the way she had touched his hand to bring him back from panic instead of fighting him.
Luca sat beside her on the greenhouse bench.
“My father wanted me out,” he said.
Wren’s expression softened.
“Out of what?”
“The family business. Before he died, he sent me to college in New York. He told everyone it was because I was weak.”
“You believed him?”
“For years.”
Luca looked at the dark greenhouse glass.
“After his death, Vittorio told me my father had been ashamed of me. Said if I wanted the Moretti name to survive, I had to prove I could lead.”
Wren understood suddenly.
Vittorio had not merely helped Luca after Angelo’s death.
He had shaped the story Luca inherited.
“Maybe your father sent you away because he knew something dangerous was coming.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“That’s what your grandfather’s letter suggests.”
“Does that make you feel better?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He looked at her, surprised.
Wren set aside her gloves.
“Better would be easy. Truth isn’t always better. Sometimes it just gives pain the right name.”
Luca watched her for a long moment.
“How do you always know what to say?”
“I own a flower shop. People tell florists everything because they think we’re decorating.”
His mouth curved.
Then he signed SORRY.
“For what?”
“For bringing this to your door.”
Wren shook her head.
“You didn’t choose where you collapsed.”
“I chose the life that made men follow me.”
“Did you?”
The question hit him harder than accusation.
Before he could answer, every light in the greenhouse went out.
Darkness swallowed them.
Wren froze.
Luca reached for her.
She caught his wrist and signed against his palm because he could not see her hands.
WAIT.
The emergency lamps did not come on.
That meant power had not failed.
It had been cut.
Wren crouched and pressed two fingers against the metal bench frame.
A faint vibration traveled through it.
Someone had opened the outer greenhouse door.
She touched Luca’s arm twice, then pointed left.
He nodded.
They moved behind a row of waist-high planting tables.
A flashlight beam swept across the glass.
Then another.
Luca drew his weapon.
Wren stopped him.
She pointed toward an irrigation valve.
He frowned.
She turned it.
High-pressure mist exploded from the overhead lines, instantly fogging the greenhouse and coating every pane.
The intruders lost visibility.
Wren knew the greenhouse layout by memory after only two days. She guided Luca through the narrow rows while the attackers moved toward the center.
At the side exit, Marco appeared with two guards.
The intruders fled before anyone fired.
They left behind a backpack.
Inside were bolt cutters, a jammer, a camera, and photographs of Wren entering the property.
One photograph had been taken that afternoon.
The safehouse was compromised.
Luca looked at Marco.
“Who knew we were here?”
Marco’s face went hard.
“Four people.”
Wren looked at Luca.
May you like
The circle was shrinking.
And someone inside it wanted both of them dead.
