Rain poured over the neon-drenched streets of Veronia, turning the alleyways into rivers of reflection. Elena Marconi moved like a shadow, heels clicking softly against wet cobblestones. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the faces of the few stragglers brave enough or foolish enough to wander out at this hour.
She had learned early that in Veronia, appearances were lies and trust was currency no one could afford. Her family had once been minor players in the criminal underworld, respectable enough to avoid trouble until tonight.
The phone call came just after midnight.
"Elena. It's your father," a trembling voice said. "They they're at the estate. The men are armed
The line went dead.
Adrenaline surged. She ran, rain soaking her coat, heart hammering. By the time she reached the Marconi estate, the scene was chaos incarnate. Flames licked the walls of the guest house, men screamed, and shadows moved with lethal intent. Her father lay motionless, a crimson stain spreading across his white shirt.
Elena's hands trembled, but only for a moment. She had no time to cry. In Veronia, hesitation was death. From the shadows emerged a figure tall, impeccably dressed, with a calm that made her blood run cold.
"Romano," he said, his voice smooth, cold, and commanding. I suggest you come with me. This is no place for someone like you tonight.
She glared, fury rising. "You killed them! You're part of this!"
Adrian Romano's dark eyes studied her like a predator assessing prey. Then he smiled, faintly, almost kindly.
"I'm here to make sure you survive. That, and perhaps to offer you a choice."
Elena's pulse raced. A choice in the Romano world was rarely a good one. But her options had narrowed to two die in the flames or step into a world she had only glimpsed in whispers and rumors a world ruled by blood, power, and unforgiving desire.
She squared her shoulders. "I'm listening."