The scent of blood was the first thing Aria noticed.
Not the sweet perfume still clinging to her silk blouse, not the stifling heat of the summer night—but the coppery, metallic stench that didn’t belong in her family’s marble-floored hallway.
She dropped her overnight bag with a soft thud.
“Finn?” she called out, her voice trembling. “Are you here?”
Silence.
That was the second thing she noticed—how quiet it was. Too quiet for a house like this. No guards chatting in the foyer. No music from her brother’s office. Not even the usual clink of glasses from the kitchen staff.
Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she took slow, hesitant steps forward.
Then she saw it.
A smear of red on the banister. A handprint—faint but unmistakable—dragging downward as if someone had collapsed.
Her heart dropped.
“Finn?” she whispered again, panic tightening her chest. “Is this one of your twisted jokes? Because it’s not funny.”
No answer.
She turned toward the living room—and stopped cold.
Blood.
Everywhere.
It painted the white couch, pooled on the Persian rug, splattered across the framed portraits on the wall like some grotesque form of art.
And in the center of it all lay her brother.
Dead.
His once-charming face was twisted in horror, mouth frozen mid-scream. His shirt was soaked in blood, and his hands were still clutching a gun that hadn’t saved him.
Aria couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t think.
The next second, she heard a sound behind her. The soft click of shoes on marble—measured, calm, unhurried.
She turned slowly, her knees threatening to give out.
A man stepped into view, dressed in a black suit that hugged his tall, broad frame like sin. His shirt was bloodstained, but not his own. He carried a sleek silver pistol in one hand. His face was carved from stone—angular jaw, dark eyes, and lips pressed in a cold, unreadable line.
He looked like death.
And he looked directly at her.
“Aria Delaney,” he said, voice like crushed velvet. “Welcome home.”
She stumbled back, instinct screaming at her to run, to fight—but her body was frozen.
“Wh-who are you?” she choked out, her voice barely audible.
The man tilted his head slightly, eyes sweeping over her. “You don’t recognize me?”
She shook her head, trembling.
“I’m Luca Moretti.” He took a step closer. “Your brother knew me well. We were business rivals. Until tonight.”
He gestured lazily toward Finn’s corpse.
“I had no choice,” he added. “Finn made a mistake. He crossed a line. He thought the Irish syndicate could cheat the Italians and walk away.”
“You killed him,” she breathed, her voice laced with horror.
“Yes.”
“You murdered my brother!”
His gaze didn’t waver. “He broke a blood oath. He knew the price.”
She darted toward the door.
But she didn’t get far.
Two men in black stepped from the shadows and grabbed her arms. She screamed, kicking and struggling, but they held her in an iron grip.
“Let me go!” she shouted. “You have no right—!”
“Aria.” Luca’s voice was calm, almost bored. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be on the floor next to your brother.”
“Then why am I still alive?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Because I don’t want your death.” He stepped closer. “I want your obedience.”
Her blood turned to ice.
“What... what do you mean?”
“I’m offering you a deal.”
She laughed bitterly. “A deal? You kill my brother and expect me to negotiate?”
“I’m not offering, cara,” he said coolly. “I’m telling you how this goes.”
He took another step until he was right in front of her.
“You’re going to marry me.”
Aria’s stomach dropped.
“Excuse me?” she whispered.
“You heard me.” He tucked the gun into his belt, then reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, as if he hadn’t just destroyed her world. “You’re going to be my wife.”
“You’re insane,” she spat. “Why the hell would I marry you?”
“Because if you don’t, every last member of your family’s remaining loyalists will die. Slowly. Painfully.”
Her lips parted, horror washing over her.
“You’re a monster.”
He didn’t deny it.
“I’m the monster your brother feared. And now, you belong to me.”
“I’ll never say yes,” she hissed.
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear.
“You will. Because I’ll give you no other choice.”
Then he nodded to his men.
“Take her to the villa. We’ll prepare for the wedding.”