My name came out of my mouth before I realized I'd decided to say it.
"Aria."
The man across the table wrote it down slowly, like he was carving it into stone. We were no longer in the dark room from last night. This place was brighter, cleaner, colder. White walls. Steel table. No windows. Two guards stood behind me, close enough that I could feel their presence without turning.
Dante Moretti sat opposite me again, calm as ever, like we were discussing business over coffee and not my life.
"Aria," he repeated. "Age?"
"Twenty-four."
"Family?"
"My brother," I said quickly. "Just him."
Dante's eyes lifted. For a moment, something unreadable passed through them. Then it was gone.
"Good," he said. "That makes this simple."
Simple. The word burned.
A woman entered the room carrying a thin folder and a tablet. She placed both in front of me and stepped back. Dante nodded once.
"Read," he said.
Inside the folder were photos. The first one made my breath catch.
Victor Hale.
Tall. Dark hair. Clean suit. Calm eyes. He looked nothing like the kind of man who deserved to be hunted by someone like Dante Moretti. The next photos showed him at charity events, business meetings, shaking hands with politicians.
"He owns half the city without getting his hands dirty," Dante said. "Or so he wants the world to believe."
I swallowed. "Why me?"
Dante leaned back. "Because you're forgettable."
The words stung more than I expected.
"You blend in," he continued. "You don't look dangerous. You don't look ambitious. Men like Victor trust women like you."
"I'm not a seductress," I said. "I don't"
"You don't need to be," Dante said. "You need to be real."
He slid the tablet toward me. It showed my brother again. This time he was asleep, breathing slowly. Alive.
"Every week you cooperate," Dante said, "he lives comfortably. Every lie you tell me, he suffers."
My hands shook as I pushed the tablet away.
"When do I meet him?" I asked.
A faint smile touched Dante's lips. "You already have."
My heart dropped. "What?"
"Last night," Dante said. "He was at the club."
The memory rushed back. A man standing near the bar. Polite smile. A brief conversation while I waited for my drink. He'd asked my name. I'd laughed and said I was nobody.
Victor.
"You didn't plan to talk to him," Dante continued. "That's why it worked. He noticed you."
My stomach twisted. "So what now?"
"Now," Dante said, standing, "you disappear."
They moved me to a different wing of the compound. A bedroom waited large, elegant, locked from the outside. Clothes hung in the closet. New phone on the bed. No internet. Only one number saved.
Dante's.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. I couldn't tell.
That evening, the phone rang.
"Tomorrow night," Dante said when I answered. "You'll attend a charity auction. Victor will be there. You will too."
"And if I mess up?" I asked.
"You won't," he replied. "You don't have that luxury."
The line went dead.
The auction hall glittered with money and smiles. I wore a black dress that wasn't mine and confidence that didn't belong to me either. My heart pounded as I stepped inside.
I spotted Victor almost immediately.
He was alone.
I took a breath and walked toward him.
"Hi," I said, like we were strangers. "Didn't expect to see you again."
He smiled, warm and familiar. "Funny. I was hoping I would."
Something in his eyes shifted as he looked at me interest, yes, but also caution.
"Aria, right?" he said.
I nodded.
"Careful," he added quietly. "Places like this aren't safe for women who wander alone."
I almost laughed at the irony.
"I think," I said, forcing a smile, "we're both in more danger than we realize."
From across the room, I felt it before I saw it.
Dante's gaze.
Watching.
Waiting.
And in that moment, as Victor offered me his arm, I understood the truth I had been trying to avoid since the gunshot last night:
This wasn't a seduction.
It was a trap.
And I was standing at the center of it.