The night didn't whisper.
It screamed.
Rain crashed against the windows like the sky was at war with itself. Lightning split the darkness, illuminating a city that never slept—but tonight, even the city felt afraid.
And in the middle of that chaos…
She ran.
Barefoot. Breath ragged. Heart slamming like it wanted out of her chest.
"Stop!" a voice roared behind her.
She didn't.
Couldn't.
Amara Knight didn't know what scared her more—
the men chasing her…
or the one waiting ahead.
Her dress clung to her skin, soaked in rain, her vision blurring as she turned into a narrow alley.
Dead end.
No.
No, no, no—
Footsteps echoed.
Slow.
Measured.
Not rushed like the others.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
She turned.
And that's when she saw him.
Standing beneath the flickering streetlight like darkness itself had taken human form.
Black suit. No umbrella. Rain sliding down his face like it didn't dare touch him.
Alessandro De Luca.
The name alone could silence rooms.
Could end lives.
Could start wars.
His eyes locked onto hers—and in that moment, the world went still.
Not a glance.
Not curiosity.
Recognition.
Ownership.
"You ran," he said calmly.
His voice?
Soft.
But lethal.
Amara swallowed, forcing strength into her shaking body.
"And I'll keep running."
A pause.
Then—
He smiled.
Not warmth.
Not kindness.
Something far more dangerous.
"You don't run from me," he said, stepping closer.
Her back hit the wall.
No escape.
No way out.
Just him.
"And why is that?" she shot back, her voice sharper than her fear.
He stopped inches away.
Close enough for her to feel his presence.
Close enough to understand one terrifying truth—
This man didn't chase.
He claimed.
"Because," he whispered,
"You're already mine."