Midnight had become Alessia's favorite hour. When the estate slept, she walked — thinking, planning, breathing in silence that belonged only to her. The moonlight silvered the stone path, the night air cool against her skin as she moved through the gardens with quiet steps.
But tonight… something was different.
She felt it before she heard it — that quiet hum in the air that told her she wasn't alone. The faint crunch of gravel behind her, too deliberate to be the wind, too soft to belong to one of her guards.
Her body tensed.
Without hesitation, Alessia reached beneath her coat and drew her gun. The metallic click echoed sharply through the night.
"Show yourself," she said, voice calm but dangerous. "Now."
Silence. Only the whisper of the trees and the slow beat of her own pulse. She turned in a slow circle, scanning the shadows. Nothing moved — but she could feel it. Eyes. Watching. Studying.
She took a few steps forward, scanning the edge of the estate wall — and then froze.
A single note rested on the wooden chair beside the old olive tree near the gate. She hadn't noticed it before. The white paper gleamed faintly under the moonlight.
Gun still raised, Alessia approached carefully. The handwriting on the note was elegant, precise — a man's hand, smooth yet deliberate.
She unfolded it, her heartbeat steady but alert.
"It's bad to pull out a gun on me, love. I was just making sure you're safe."
Her eyes narrowed.
Safe? From who?
A ripple of unease slid down her spine, though she refused to show it. Whoever left the note knew her patterns — her midnight walks, her routes around the estate, even her habits. That meant they had been watching for a while.
Her guards arrived moments later, weapons drawn, searching the perimeter. They found nothing — no footprints, no sign of intrusion, no proof that anyone had been there at all.
But Alessia knew better.
Someone had been there. Someone confident enough to tease her, yet careful enough to vanish before she could catch them.
She read the note again, her lips curving slightly, not in fear — but challenge.
"If you're watching me," she murmured into the wind, "then watch closely. Because I'm not the one who should be afraid."
She folded the note, tucked it into her pocket, and walked back toward the mansion.
Behind her, a shadow lingered for just a moment longer — tall, still, and utterly silent.
Then it was gone.