The firelight faded. Darkness closed around her.
And in that darkness, memory clawed its way to the surface.
Her brother's voice. His laugh. His promise. "No matter what, Aria, I'll keep you safe. Even if it kills me."
It had killed him.
Three weeks earlier, the world was still intact. Their family mansion thrummed with life, her brother Matteo Moretti—their golden heir—commanding the halls with his easy smile and sharp mind. He wasn't just her brother. He was her shield, her compass, the one person who made the world feel less like a cage.
That night, rain lashed against the windows. The storm outside mirrored the storm brewing within the city. Matteo had called her to his study, his face tight with secrets.
"Stay in your room tonight," he had told her, pressing something into her hand. A dagger, slim and silver, its hilt engraved with the family crest. "If anything happens, you fight. Do you hear me, Aria?"
Her stomach had dropped. "What do you mean if anything happens? Matteo—"
But before he could answer, the mansion doors exploded open.
Gunfire. Shouts. Boots pounding against marble.
The war had arrived at their doorstep.
Aria remembered clinging to the shadows of the staircase, her heart racing as masked men stormed the halls. The Moretti guards fought back, but the enemy was relentless. She remembered Matteo drawing his gun, his voice steady as he barked orders, telling her to hide, hide now.
But she hadn't hidden. She had followed.
Through smoke and chaos, she watched as Matteo confronted a man in the hall. A tall figure cloaked in black, his voice low, commanding.
Aria hadn't seen his face—only the glint of his gun.
The shot rang out. Matteo staggered. Blood bloomed across his chest.
Her scream had torn through the night, raw and broken.
She had crawled to him, her hands pressed against the wound, desperate to hold his life in. "Stay with me, please, stay with me," she had begged, her tears mixing with his blood.
Matteo's lips trembled. His hand reached for hers, slick with crimson. "Aria… listen…" His voice was a whisper, fading. "It wasn't… random. They wanted me gone. Someone inside… betrayed us. The one who pulled the trigger… was crowned in sin."
Then his chest stilled.
The world shattered.
Aria remembered the weight of his body in her arms, the silence that followed, the echo of the intruder's storm-grey eyes burned into her mind before he vanished into the night.
Storm-grey.
Just like Dante Moretti's.
The proof came days later, hidden in the ledger Matteo had left her. Names, dates, deals gone wrong. And one signature that tied it all back to Dante.
That was the moment she swore vengeance.
She would marry him if she had to. Smile at his side. Play the dutiful wife. But one day, she would carve the crown from his head with her own hands.
And now, lying in his bed, his ring heavy on her finger, Aria pressed the dagger to her chest beneath the sheets, her brother's final gift burning like fire against her skin.
One way or another, Matteo would be avenged.
Even if it meant burning in the very sins that crowned them both.