The Valterra estate never truly slept. Even at three in the morning, with the moon nothing but a thin silver knife cutting through clouds, the house thrummed with life. Guards' footsteps. Voices murmuring somewhere down a hall. Now and then, the sharp click of a gun being cleaned. Every inch of the place felt alert, watchful—like it was waiting for something.
Elara drifted through the halls, restless. The last few nights had stuck to her like something wet and cold. The attack. The locked room no one was supposed to open. Alessio—deadly as ever, and that spark between them that just wouldn't die. She couldn't shake the memory of his eyes, silver and impossible to escape. It left her feeling at once terrified and pulled in.
She'd hoped being alone might help, but solitude just made the air heavier. She needed space—needed to get away from the suffocating grip of both the mansion and the man who thought he owned her.
A car outside caught her ear. It was subtle—barely there—but she'd learned to notice things like that. Tires crunching on gravel, the engine now quiet, but its presence still hanging in the air.
She frowned. The car didn't look familiar, or maybe it was just the sense that whoever had arrived wasn't, either.
She almost reached the balcony when a deep voice sliced through the silence. Familiar. A little dangerous. And just amused enough to make her skin prickle.
"Elara."
Her heart stuttered. She spun around, breath snagging in her throat.
Marcos Valterra.
He lounged at the end of the hallway, looking like he owned the place. Dark hair a little too long, eyes sharp and watchful, mouth curled in a smile that was half-charm, half-threat. He had the kind of confidence that made people either love him or hate him, sometimes both. Alessio's danger was all ice and calculation. Marcos? He was a storm—loud, unpredictable, impossible to ignore.
"You're up," he said, voice low and teasing. "Roaming these halls like a ghost."
Every muscle in Elara's body tensed. Alessio had warned her about Marcos. A man with a smile as sharp as a blade and a sense of entitlement that could turn violent in a second.
"What do you want?" she asked, forcing her heartbeat to slow, trying to sound steady.
He strolled closer, slow and almost lazy, but she could feel the calculation behind every step. "I wanted to check in. See how the Moretti heiress is holding up here in Valterra territory." His grin widened, eyes glinting. "Better than I thought. You look… calm."
She narrowed her eyes. "You shouldn't be here."
"Shouldn't be?" he repeated, pretending to be wounded. "Sweetheart, nothing's forbidden in this city. Only what's claimed. And I plan to see what's mine."
Heat flashed in her chest, but she kept it hidden. She already knew this game. Marcos was here to test her, rattle her, maybe even provoke Alessio. He didn't just want to visit—he wanted to shake up the careful balance in this bloody house.
"And what's yours, exactly?" she shot back, voice cool. "Power? Land? Or are you just here to mess with me?"
He smirked, moving in even closer. Now there was barely a foot between them, the air tight with something electric and dangerous. "All of the above," he murmured. "And you, of course. You're too interesting to ignore."
Her stomach twisted. She should've been furious, or at least scared. She should step back. But something about him pulled at her, even while every part of her brain screamed to stay away.
"You're dangerous," she said, voice barely louder than a breath, but steady. "And I don't need this."
Marcos tilted his head, eyes roaming over her like he was hunting for a weakness. "You think I need anything?" His voice dropped. "I want. I want what you don't even know I can take. And believe me—" here his eyes flashed, dark and hungry—"I can take it."
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She wanted to run, but she wouldn't let herself. She was done showing fear. "I'm not like the others," she said, letting defiance seep into her words. "I'm not weak, and I'm not yours."
His grin sharpened. "That's what makes it fun." He eased back a little, but that tension between them stayed. "I don't take what's offered. I fight for what matters."
Her heart hammered. She had to be careful. Alessio would notice. He'd see the way Marcos moved, the way his words lingered in the air. Alessio would never let this go—never let someone else challenge him, not here.
Still, there was something about Marcos—something wild, reckless, and tempting. She hated it, but she couldn't look away.
"You should leave," she said, steady this time, trying to summon authority where she felt none. "Before Alessio…"
Marcos's face shifted, just a flicker, but it was enough to make Elara's skin crawl. "Alessio is… a complication," he murmured, almost like he was thinking out loud. "And complications get… handled."
Elara's heart hammered in her chest. That was a threat—clear as day. But, mixed in, there was this charm, this strange pull she couldn't shake. It unsettled her.
"You're playing with fire," she shot back, her voice steady. "Don't think I'm the type to fall for it."
He smiled, just a little—a dangerous sort of smile, half dare, half promise. "That's what I'm hoping for," he said. "It's more fun when the prey doesn't give in right away. And you… you're the most interesting chase I've had in ages."
Her chest went tight. She wanted to despise him. She really did. He was Alessio's cousin, the one she'd been warned about, a problem in every possible way. Still, she couldn't deny the rush, the tug in her gut, the forbidden thrill crackling between them.
"You're not leaving me with options," she said at last, forcing her voice to stay strong even though her heart raced. "I won't be bait. And I won't let you play me."
Marcos stepped back—just enough to let her breathe, but not enough to break the tension between them. "I'm not baiting you, Elara," he said, his voice low, dangerous. "I'm just curious how far you'll go before temptation gets the better of you."
Her stomach twisted. She needed to watch herself. Alessio would notice. And Alessio didn't forgive challenges. Not ever.
That idea sent a chill up her spine. She'd been through real danger before, survived worse than most. But the presence of these two men—both pulling at her in different ways, both claiming pieces of her—felt like a bigger risk than anything she'd faced out in the world.
The hallway around her felt heavy with it, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Two men: one sharp and commanding, the other unpredictable, all charm and edges. Both looming over her life in ways she hadn't even begun to understand.
And right then, clarity hit her—sharp and undeniable. She wasn't some pawn anymore, not just a piece moved by someone else's hand. She was in the game now, a real player. Everything was on the table—her heart, her safety, and those wild, dangerous desires that neither Marcos nor Alessio could tame.
And deep inside, a spark of anticipation flared to life. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't put it out.