Gabriel cried in pain and fear, "Please forgive me! I had no idea that girl was related to you. It won't happen again—please, Milord… please!"
Vincenzo stepped forward and crouched to Gabriel's level. His face remained cold, unreadable. In his eyes, there was no trace of mercy—only a calculated finality. Before the human could recoil, Vincenzo drove his dagger straight into his chest, piercing his heart. Blood welled in Gabriel's mouth. His eyes widened in horror, then dimmed as his body slumped, lifeless.
No hesitation. No second thoughts. For daring to touch her, death was a kindness.
In the dungeon of the capital city, the head guard walked his final round, inspecting prisoners before retreating to a small rest chamber. As he approached the wooden cot, he sensed someone behind him. He turned—no one. He exhaled, only to gasp and stumble back at the sight of a figure now standing directly in front of him.
Cold sweat trickled down his spine. He bowed shakily. "Milord…"
Vincenzo's eyes were like stone.
The guard's voice broke as he scrambled to justify himself. "Milord, I-I was only following the senior officer's orders. I regret what I did. Please… spare me."
"I'm not a forgiving man," Vincenzo said quietly. "But there's a way to earn a sliver of mercy. Perhaps you'll keep your head."
The guard dropped to his knees, trembling. "Please, Milord! I'll do anything—just spare my life! Tell me how I can earn your forgiveness!"
"Nothing extravagant," Vincenzo replied, almost lazily. "Just confess to murdering Subordinate Gabriel."
The guard's head shot up in shock. "Murder? Gabriel?" He fell prostrate. "But I didn't kill him, Milord! If I confess to that, they'll hang me without trial!"
"No one said you did," Vincenzo said coolly. "I killed him."
The guard gaped, confused.
Vincenzo's voice sharpened. "But you'll take the blame. Otherwise, I'll make sure every breath you take from this day forward is agony. You'll beg for death every day—but I won't allow it."
He meant it. Not out of rage—but out of principle. Pain for pain. Blood for blood.
The guard, shaking violently, lowered his head. "I'll confess. Please, just… have mercy."
Vincenzo dropped a dagger at his feet. "This is the murder weapon. Give it when they ask."
Miles away, in the royal castle of Versimoil, Anneliese slept soundly in one of the chambers. Half her face was tucked beneath a pillow; soft strands of hair spilled across the other side and fell along her bare back. A blanket covered her up to the waist.
Vincenzo stood silently at the door, watching her breathe. For a man who had just taken a life, he looked… lost.
In this moment, she looked untouchable—safe, unafraid, unaware. It stirred something in him he couldn't name.
His thoughts drifted back.
It was years ago, in the town of Bridgehallow, consumed by fire. Screams of humans and vampires echoed through the streets. Amid the chaos, young Vincenzo walked unfazed by the flames—he had never feared death. But then he saw her. A small girl standing at the heart of the inferno, unharmed.
Fire curled from her hands, incinerating anything that dared approach. Her gaze didn't blink. Fierce. Empty. And perched on her shoulder, a black eagle, wings half-raised as if protecting her.
Even then, something in her stare had arrested him. Something he had only seen in himself. Untamed. Broken. Dangerous.
As he stepped closer, the eagle stirred its wings—and she vanished into thin air.
He had searched for her ever since. Kingdom after kingdom. Village after village. Every ruin, but she had disappeared like smoke. A mystery wrapped in fire.
And now… she was here. In this room. Sleeping soundly beneath his roof.
When he met Anneliese in the forest, he hadn't recognized her. Not until the library—when her hands flared against his wrist, leaving a burn. It was instinctual, not controlled. But tonight—when she spoke of fire rising from her hands—there was no doubt left.
It was her.
The girl of fire and ash. The girl who had haunted him.
Still, it didn't make sense. This girl seemed innocent. Soft. She flinched when spoken to too harshly, as if she'd never fought for anything. Could she really be the same creature who brought an entire town to its knees?
He took a step closer, reaching to move the hair from her face.
Suddenly, Anneliese's eyes flew open. Startled, she clutched the blanket to her chest and backed away. When her eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight, she saw him—and frowned.
"You said no one would enter while I was asleep!"
One side of his face was lit by candlelight, the other veiled in shadow. A subtle smirk tugged at his lips.
"You asked if anyone else would enter. I confirmed—no one else would."
Anneliese's frown deepened. She made a mental note: never trust his words.
"What are you doing here at this time?" she asked. But her question caught in her throat as her eyes landed on dark blotches staining his shirt.
"Where were you?" she demanded. "Did you fight someone?"
"It was barely a fight," he said flatly. "I had to punish those who touched what's mine."
Her brows furrowed, confusion mounting. "What do you mean?"
"I killed the subordinate," Vincenzo replied calmly. "And punished the guard who hurt you."
His eyes lingered—too long—on the curve of her bare shoulder. She noticed, and held the blanket tighter.
"You killed the subordinate?" she asked, stunned. Then her mind caught up with his words. "Touched what's yours?"
She straightened. "I'm thankful for what you've done. But I am no one's possession—and I never will be."
The steel in her voice surprised him. She was no longer the frightened girl they had dragged into the dungeon. She had changed. Or maybe... this was who she always was beneath the surface.
His expression didn't change, but his smirk returned, deeper this time. Not amused—something else. Possessive. Unapologetic.
"We'll see about that." He turned, walking toward the door. "Now go back to sleep."
And then—he was gone.
Leaving her wide-eyed, heart racing, and more confused than ever.