Elena sat on the edge of the bed long after Luca's footsteps had faded down the corridor. The room smelled faintly of cedar and polished wood, a stark contrast to the blood and gun smoke she had left behind in the alley. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to will her thoughts into some semblance of order, but her mind was a storm.
The rules. He had said something about rules. And she knew instinctively: the rules of this house were not suggestions—they were survival.
A soft knock at the door startled her. She froze, then slowly turned. A young woman in black uniform, the color of shadows, stepped inside. She carried a tray with a cup of tea and a small plate of food.
"Sir instructed me to deliver this," the woman said, her voice low, respectful, yet carrying the faintest undertone of warning.
Elena nodded, accepting the tray with trembling hands. The tea was hot, bitter, and unfamiliar, but it grounded her in a way nothing else had since she'd stepped into this mansion. She sipped cautiously, feeling the warmth creep down her throat.
The woman lingered at the door, her eyes sharp and watchful. "Rules of the house," she said quietly. "Learn them. Follow them. You will live longer if you do."
Elena set the cup down. "And if I don't?"
The woman's gaze didn't waver. "Then you'll discover the consequences yourself." She left without another word, leaving Elena staring after her, mind spinning.
Minutes passed—or hours. Time had no meaning here. Every sound seemed amplified: the echo of footsteps in the hall, the distant bark of a dog, the metallic click of a door shutting somewhere far away. Elena felt watched, as though the mansion itself had eyes, following her every movement.
Eventually, the silence was broken by the low rumble of the main hall doors opening. Elena's pulse spiked. She recognized the sound immediately—Luca had returned.
He entered the room without knocking. The shadows of the evening highlighted the sharp planes of his face. His eyes, dark and calculating, flicked over her once, then again, lingering just a moment too long.
"You've had your first lesson," he said, voice quiet, but commanding. "Do you understand why you're here?"
Elena drew in a sharp breath. "I… I think so."
He approached, slow, deliberate. "You were born into this world without realizing it," he said. "Your father tried to protect you, but the debts of the past have a way of catching up."
Her stomach tightened. "I didn't ask for this."
"No," he admitted, almost with regret. "You didn't. But you're here now. And your survival depends on obedience… and intelligence."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "I've seen many like you—children of enemies, heirs of fallen houses. They all fail because they underestimate me, or they refuse to learn."
Elena's eyes narrowed. "I won't fail."
Luca's lips curved, just slightly, a hint of a smirk. "We'll see."
He turned toward the door. "You'll stay here tonight. Tomorrow, lessons begin. Not just etiquette, but survival, strategy, and understanding the hierarchy of this house. Everything you do will be watched. Everything."
Elena swallowed. "I understand."
He paused at the threshold. "Do not mistake survival for safety. They are not the same thing."
Then he left, the heavy doors clicking shut behind him, leaving Elena in silence once more.
She sat down again, gripping the edge of the bed. She didn't know the first thing about surviving in Luca's world—but she knew she had no choice.
Somewhere in the mansion, men were planning, waiting, watching. And Elena realized, with a cold certainty, that this house was more dangerous than any alley.
Survival here would require more than caution. It would require cunning. And courage she didn't yet know she had.