The night had a strange stillness to it. The kind of stillness that seemed to hum in your veins, as though the world itself were holding it's breath. A velvet sky stretched, overhead heavy with stars and a thin Crescent moon, cast its pale silver glow across the cobbled streets of Verona, where the air smelled faintly of roses and rain.
Elena pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, heel clicking lightly against the stones as she made her way home from the gallery. She had lingered too long among the canvases tonight, paintings of storms, lovers and distant places she longed to see. Perhaps it was foolish to walk alone this late, but she loved the way the city changed after midnight. The tourists vanished, the laughter dimmed and Verona became hers- a city of whispers and shadows.
But tonight, there was something different. A subtle shift in the air, a prickle against her skin, like unseen eyes following her.
She quickened her pace.
At the corner of Via Stella, she caught sight of him for the first time.
He stood beneath a flickering lamp post, tall and still, his figure half lost in shadow. A man in a long dark coat, collar turned up, a book in one hand. His presence was magnetic, like a note struck low and resonant on a violin.
Elena would have walked past, but as she did, the wind caught, rustling the pages of his book, he looked up and... their eyes met.
For a moment, the world stopped.
His eyes were startling grey, storm-gray. The kind of eyes that carried secrets. Eyes that had seen too much and forgotten how to forget. Elena felt the air thicken between them, her heart stutter. She don't know why but it was as though she had known him once, in another life, in another story.
"Buona Sera" the man said softly, his voice, low melodic, carrying the faintest trace of an accent that wasn't local, perhaps English perhaps something else.
Elena hesitated, every instinct warning her that speaking to strangers at midnight was reckless and yet there was something about him that silenced her doubts.
"Good evening," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.
He studied her for a moment, then closed the book with a quiet snap. The sound echoed in silence between them.
"You shouldn't be walking alone," he said.
"Perhaps not," she admitted, tilting her chin up, unwilling to be cowed "but I am".
A flicker of amusement touched his lips, not a quiet smile, but close. He stepped forward just enough for the moonlight to fall across his face, he was handsome in a sharp, arresting way, the kind of beauty carved by storms rather than sunshine. His jawline strong, hair dark with a hint of unruly curled, and those storm-gray eyes watching her with unnerving intensity.
Elena swallowed, her pulse thrummed in her throat.
"And you?" she asked as though to regain some balance in this strange encounter. "Why are you out here at this hour, reading in the dark?"
The man glanced at the book in his hand. A leather bound volume, edges worn, cover faded. Something about it seemed ancient, treasured.
"I find the night quieter," he said. "Less distracting".
There was a weight behind his words, a story untold. She should have walked on, yet curiosity pinned her in place.
"I am Elena," she said at last, her voice almost a whisper.
He hesitated as if debating whether to answer, then inclined his head slightly
"Adrian".
The name lingered in the air, like a secret shared.
For reasons, she couldn't explain, Elena smiled, it felt dangerous, this smile, as though it tethered her to him in a way she hadn't intended. She turned, finally breaking their gaze, forcing herself to continue down the street. But with every step she took, she felt him still there. a presence that clung, like perfume. At the corner, she glanced back.
Adrian was gone.
Only the lamppost remained flickering softly in the night.
The next morning, Elena told herself it had been nothing....a chance meeting, a figment of late night imagination. Yet, she carried Adrian's eyes with her, felt them linger as she painted in her studio, as she arranged flowers on the silly, as she stood at the cafe, sipping her espresso, she didn't notice the man at the other table, watching her.
Adrien had not intended to speak to her. In fact, he had sworn to keep distance. He had come to Verona for a reason, a dangerous one, and entanglement were a luxury he could not afford. Yet, he had seen her, walking alone beneath the moonlight, something inside him had shifted.
Elena
Her name echoed in his mind like a haunting melody. He should have left it there, in the quiet space between strangers. But he couldn't.
He followed her now, from a distance through the morning crowd, not out of malice out of necessity, because Elana was in danger, she didn't know it it yet, but Adrian did and he had sworn long ago— never again, would he let someone innocent pay for his mistakes.
That evening, Elena returned to the gallery. She was curating a new exhibition, and the hall was quite except for the echo of her footsteps across the marble floor. She bent over a canvas, adjusting the lightning, when she heard it —the faintest sound of movement, her heart leapt.... she straightened glancing around.
"Is someone there?"
Silence.....
Then a shadow flickered across the far wall.
Elena froze, every instinct screaming. Before she could move, the overhead lights flickered, dimmed, then surged back to life. Her breath came in shallow bursts and then—
"Don't be afraid" a voice said, low and urgent. She spun around.
Adrian.
He stood just beyond the circle of light, coat collar turned up, eyes darker than she remembered.
"You...." she whispered. Relief mixed with a sharp edge of fear. "What are you doing here?"
Adrian's gaze flicked towards the shadows behind him, scanning the gallery as though expecting someone— or something, then his eyes settled on her, fierce and unyielding.
"Listening to me could save your life" he said.
Elena's pulsed quickened. His words, though calm, carried the weight of warning. She stepped back, instinctively clutching the edge of the canvas behind her like a shield.
"My life?" she repeated, her voice trembling, despite her attempt at defiance. "What are you talking about?"
Adrian moved closer, each step deliberate graceful in a way that reminded her of a predator who knew precisely went on strike. He stopped just short of her, close enough for her to catch the faint scent of him—something like cedarworld and smoke faint, but intoxicating.
"There are people," he said softly. "Who would use you to get to me. People who have already been watching."
Elena stared at him, trying to decipher if he was mad, dangerous or something else entirely.
"Why me? I don't even know you."
A flicker of regret crossed his face, "you do now."
The silence stretched between them, heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond the gallery walls.
Elena felt the air press around her, charged as though the universe itself was waiting for her next move. Finally, she drew a breath and forced herself to meet his storm- gray gaze. "If you are trying to scare me, It's working but I need the truth, not riddles."
Adrian's jaw tightened, he glanced toward the shadowed hall again before answering.
"The truth is complicated. But what you must know is this —you are not safe anymore", he said.
The words sank into her like cold water. She had never thought of herself as someone who lived dangerously. Her days were filled with art, coffee, music, the occasional evening stroll beneath the stars. Danger belonged in books and films, not in her life, and yet, staring into Adrian's eyes, she felt the certainty of his words.
"Why me?" she whispered again.
Adrian hesitated, then almost reluctantly. He lifted the leather-bound book in his hand "because of this".
Allena frowned "A book?"
"It isn't just a book". His voice lowered more urgent now. "It's a key, and people would kill for it, they already have."
Her mouth went dry, she wanted to laugh to dismiss it as nonsense, but his tone left no room for disbelief. Her gaze dropped to the book, the cover was scuffed with age, the edges worn. A rose —delicate, dark— was embossed on the front, its petals, unfurling in intricate detail.
Something about it stirred her, as though the image carried a memory she couldn't quite place. She looked up sharply "What does this have to do with me?"
Adrian's expression softened almost imperceptibly, "Because last night when you looked at me, they noticed and now they'll think you matter".
Elena's breath caught, "who are they?"
Before he could answer, a sound shattered , the moment. A faint click—metal against stone.
Adrian reacted instantly. His hand shot out, pulling her against him just as the lights cut out entirely, plunging the gallery into darkness. Elena gasped, pressed against the solid strength of him.She could feel his heart, steady and controlled, even as hers raced wildly.
"Stay Quiet", he whispered, his lips close to her ears. Footsteps echoed in the dark... slow...deliberate, not hers, not his....someone else was inside.
Adrian's grip tightened slightly around her arm. In that moment, despite the fear coursing through her veins, Elena felt an inexplicable sense of protection in his hold... whosoever he was, whatever danger followed him, she wasn't facing it alone. The footsteps grew closer. A beam of light suddenly cut through the dark- a flashlight. It swept across the gallery, pausing on the paintings, lingering on shadows. Adrian shifted, his body instinctively shielding hers.
"Elena," he murmured so softly she almost didn't hear. "When I say run, you run...do you understand?" her throat constricted, but she managed a nod.
A beam drew nearer closer, then it passed dangerously close to their hiding place.
Adrian's hand brushed her steady grounding. She felt the warmth of him, the unspoken promise in that brief touch. Her fear and confusion, twisted with something else, something dangerously like trust.
The beam paused turned back. This time, it stopped fixed directly on their corner.
Adrian's body tensed.
"Run!" he hissed.
In a blur of motion, he pushed her toward the side exit as the sound of boots thundered after them. Elena stumbled, heart in her throat, but Adrian was at her side. His hand firm on her back, guiding her through the darkened hall.
They burst into the night air, the cool wind biting her skin. Behind them, the gallery door slammed open. Shouts followed.
Adrian didn't stop. His stride was long, purposeful, dragging her into the labyrinth of narrow Verona streets. Elena struggled to keep up, her lungs burning, but she clung to his pace, fueled by adrenaline and fear.
Finally, when the sounds of pursuit faded, Adrian slowed, pulling her into the dark shadows of a narrow alley.
He pressed her gently against the stone wall, one hand braced beside her head as he scanned the street, his breathing was steady controlled, though his eyes blazed with intensity. Elena, gasping for air, stared up at him, their faces were inches apart, the closeness sending a rush of heat through her despite the night's chill.
"What..." she swallowed hard.... "what just happened?"
Adrian turned his gaze to hers, storm-gray meeting the deep brown of her eyes. For a moment, neither spoke.. the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them in the charged silence of the alley.
Finally, he said quietly, "The Beginning".
Elena's heart pounded, torn between fear and a pull she couldn't name. She should run away from him, this dangerous stranger who had dragged her into something, she didn't understand but she didn't move... couldn't. b
Because in his eyes she was not just danger, but something else, something that whispered of fate, of stories yet unwritten.
And in that moment, she knew her life would never be the same again.