The gunmetal morning light spilled through the tall windows of Valentina's estate, casting long shadows across the marble floors. Outside, the grounds buzzed with preparation for the inevitable war. Inside, Valentina had other plans.
Luca stood in the training room, hands bruised from another round of sparring. He was breathing hard, but he didn't break eye contact with her—not even when she tossed a blade at his feet.
"Pick it up," she said.
He didn't hesitate.
She moved like water—graceful, precise, deadly. Luca held his stance, copying what he'd observed over the past few days. She attacked fast. He blocked twice, stumbled once, but didn't back down.
And that's when she stopped.
Valentina lowered her blade, eyes scanning him like he was a riddle she hadn't yet solved.
"You're learning to fight," she said, circling him. "But what I want to know is—how do you bleed?"
Luca's jaw tightened. "You want me to fight you or fall for you?"
A slow, dangerous smile curved her lips. "Who But beneath the banter, something shifted in her gaze. She watched him longer than necessary. The way his fingers shook slightly. The way his shoulders rose with tension, even in stillness.
Later, in the quiet of the west wing, Luca wandered into a hallway he hadn't seen before. The walls were lined with portraits of Valentina's ancestors, all in black. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until it started to feel like a cage.
He stopped outside a door—the same one they'd brought him through weeks ago when he was first abducted.
Flash.
The smell of cold leather. The blindfold. The sound of his own ragged breathing.
He staggered back, his hand gripping the wall.
Flash.
Hands grabbing him. Voices shouting. Helplessness flooding his chest like water over lungs.
Luca crumpled to the floor, breath shallow, chest seizing in panic.
Somewhere down the hall, footsteps echoed.
Valentina stopped. Silent.
She watched him from the shadows, her expression unreadable. Her world didn't allow for weakness—not in herself, and certainly not in others.
But as she looked at Luca curled up on the floor, shaking and gasping like a man drowning in his own memories, something tightened in her throat.
She didn't rush to him.
She didn't leaveAnd in her stillness, there was something almost soft… and dangerously close to care.
Valentina turned away slowly.
He didn't know it yet, but tonight… she was going to take him back into the dark—and see if he could survive it a second time.
She just watched.says you can't do both?"
Luca didn't sleep that night because he was in a very deep thought.
He lay in the cold sheets of his apartment, still wearing the shirt she'd gripped at the collar, still feeling her mouth on his. The heat of her touch hadn't faded. Neither had the shame of how easily he'd crumbled.
He didn't know if he was humiliated… or addicted because a part of him actually liked it very much.
Every breath he took carried the weight of her kiss and touch taunting, commanding yet unfinished.