War in the Shadows, Fear in the Heart
The night was long, restless, and heavy with tension.
Lucian didn't sleep. While Elena tucked Isabella close, whispering lullabies to drown out the echoes of gunfire, he gathered his men in the basement of the safehouse. The air reeked of oil, steel, and blood as his soldiers cleaned weapons, their eyes on their boss.
Lucian stood at the head of the table, the light above carving shadows across his sharp features. He didn't raise his voice—he didn't need to. The fury simmering beneath his calm words was enough to chill every man in the room.
"We've been hunted," he said, sliding photos across the table—faces of the intruder, his insignia, the traceable tattoos Marco had dug up. "Not by Valdez. Not by the usual snakes. This is older. Dirtier. They're after her."
His men stiffened. Everyone knew who her was.
Lucian's eyes glinted with murder. "They think they can use Elena's bloodline against me. They think they've found my weakness."
He leaned forward, voice a promise carved in stone.
"They've made the biggest mistake of their lives."
---
Meanwhile upstairs…
Elena sat on the edge of Isabella's bed, watching her daughter sleep. The child's tiny hand was curled around her stuffed rabbit, her face peaceful in dreams.
Elena pressed a kiss to her forehead, but her own heart was anything but calm. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the intruder's sneer, heard her cursed name spat like venom.
She had sworn her past would never touch her daughter. Now it was clawing its way back into her life.
Her hands trembled as she adjusted the blanket. She could face death, she could face enemies—but she couldn't bear the thought of Isabella growing up hunted, branded with the Nightshade curse.
Her thoughts broke when the door opened. Lucian stood there, his shirt half-open, gun holstered at his side. His gaze softened when it landed on Isabella, then hardened again as it met Elena's.
"Go rest," he said quietly. "I'll keep watch."
Elena hesitated. "You're planning something, aren't you?"
His silence was answer enough.
She rose and walked to him, her fingers brushing his arm. "Lucian… promise me one thing. Whatever war you're about to start… don't lose yourself in it."
His jaw tightened, his thumb grazing her cheek. His reply was low, dangerous, but laced with devotion.
"For you? For her? I'll lose the whole world, Elena. But not myself."
---
Hours later…
Lucian's convoy tore through the city's underbelly. One by one, he raided hidden dens, dragged screaming men out of bars and warehouses, demanding names, answers, blood. His men executed the weak links without hesitation, leaving only trails of bodies and fear in their wake.
By dawn, whispers were already spreading: The Devil is hunting again. The syndicate has awakened a monster.
And as the sun rose, Elena stood at the window with Isabella in her arms, watching the horizon burn with fire and smoke.
She knew then that Lucian's war had already begun. And there was no turning back.