The night Elara Khan was supposed to become someone's wife…
She became someone's war.
The engagement hall glittered like a palace of gold.
Crystal chandeliers shimmered above her head. The scent of roses filled the air. Politicians, businessmen, social elites — everyone had gathered to witness the alliance between the Khan family and the powerful Arman Group.
Elara stood in the center of it all.
Dressed in deep crimson silk. Diamonds resting on her collarbone. A polite smile stitched to her lips.
Across the stage, her fiancé — Rayan Arman — waved to the crowd with practiced charm.
He looked perfect.
Too perfect.
Elara's fingers tightened around her bouquet.
Something felt wrong.
She didn't know what. But her heartbeat wouldn't slow.
"Relax," Rayan whispered, leaning close to her ear. "After tonight, everything will belong to us."
His voice was smooth.
But his eyes…
Cold.
Possessive.
Calculating.
Before she could respond—
The lights went out.
Total darkness swallowed the hall.
Gasps echoed.
Then—
Gunshots.
Screams.
Glass shattered.
Chaos exploded.
Elara froze as bodies rushed past her. Security guards pulled weapons.
Women shrieked.
Another gunshot rang near her ear.
Someone grabbed her wrist.
She thought it was Rayan.
It wasn't.
The grip was stronger.
Colder.
"Don't scream," a deep voice murmured behind her.
It wasn't loud.
But it carried command.
She was dragged through a side exit into the night air. Smoke filled the sky as cars outside burned in flames.
Her heels snapped on the pavement.
She stumbled—
And then she saw him.
Under the dim streetlight.
Tall.
Black suit.
Face partially shadowed.
Eyes like winter — silver, unreadable, terrifying.
He didn't look panicked.
He looked in control.
Like he owned the chaos.
"W-Who are you?" she whispered.
He studied her face like she was a puzzle piece.
Then his gaze shifted to the burning building behind them.
"Your fiancé," he said calmly, "is not the man you think he is."
Her breath hitched.
"What are you talking about? Where is he?"
The man didn't answer.
Instead, several armed men surrounded them — not attacking.
Protecting.
From him.
Or for him.
Elara realized something horrifying.
These weren't random attackers.
They were organized.
And this man—
He was their leader.
A black car stopped in front of them.
The back door opened.
"Get in," he ordered.
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" she snapped, finally finding her voice.
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.
Amusement.
"You don't have a choice."
Gunshots echoed again from inside the hall.
A loud explosion followed.
Flames burst from the windows.
Elara turned in horror.
"My father is inside!"
"He's safe," the stranger replied instantly.
She stared at him.
"How do you know that?"
Silence.
That was answer enough.
Fear crawled up her spine.
"You planned this…" she breathed.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
She could smell expensive cologne mixed with smoke.
"I planned to end a business," he said quietly. "You were not supposed to be part of it."
Her pulse thundered.
"What business?"
His jaw tightened.
"Human trafficking."
The word shattered her world.
She shook her head. "No. That's impossible."
"Your fiancé runs one of the largest underground networks in Europe."
The ground felt unstable beneath her.
"No… Rayan would never—"
"Rayan Arman sells girls younger than you."
Her stomach twisted violently.
Tears blurred her vision.
"You're lying."
The man leaned closer.
"If I wanted you dead, Elara Khan," he whispered, "you would already be."
The way he said her name sent ice through her veins.
"How do you know my name?"
"I know everything about you."
The car engine revved impatiently.
Sirens echoed in the distance.
Police.
The stranger looked toward the sound.
Then back at her.
"You have two options," he said calmly. "Stay here and let your fiancé retrieve you once he escapes… or come with me and learn the truth."
Her breath came in short bursts.
Her mind screamed to run.
But somewhere deep inside…
She remembered Rayan's cold eyes.
His controlling grip.
The strange late-night calls.
The locked office.
The bruises she once saw on a girl leaving his building.
Things she ignored.
Things she didn't want to question.
The sirens grew louder.
The man opened the car door wider.
"Choose."
Her heart chose before her brain did.
She stepped inside.
The door shut.
The car sped away.
As the burning hall disappeared behind them, Elara whispered one final question.
"Who are you?"
The man stared ahead, city lights reflecting in his silver eyes.
"My name," he said quietly, "is Ares Valentino."
The most dangerous name in Rome.
And she had just placed her life in his hands.