Chapter 3 Beneath the Mask

The candlelight flickered low as the limousine curved through the narrow, tree-lined drive. From behind the tinted glass, Aria watched the looming silhouette of the Ashton estate rise through the mist. Her pulse skittered like trapped lightning beneath her skin.

The gala was supposed to be a distraction-a masquerade to appease the elite, a glittering display of wealth and power. But Aria knew better.

This was a hunting ground.

The beast walked among them.

She adjusted the silver mask over her eyes, its intricate edges digging slightly into her cheekbones. The gown clung to her like molten shadow, split high along the thigh, a design meant to draw attention. But she wasn't prey. Not tonight.

She stepped out of the limo into the cold night. Cameras flashed. Elegant laughter floated across the estate lawn. Valets scrambled, diamonds glittered, and behind every perfect smile was danger dressed in silk.

"Name?" the usher asked.

"Aria Vale," she replied, lifting her chin.

He scanned the list, frowned, then cleared his throat. "Of course. Welcome."

She was lying. Aria Vale didn't exist-not on paper. But forged invitations could open almost any door when you knew who to bribe. And she knew who she was here to find.

Luca Ashthorn.

The monster in the shadows.

Inside, the ballroom shimmered in gold and crimson. Chandeliers hung like frozen stars, casting fractured light over velvet walls and polished marble. A string quartet played something sharp and beautiful in the corner.

Eyes followed her.

Men. Women. Guards in tuxedos pretending not to be guards. She moved like a ghost through the crowd, until the press of bodies grew too thick and she slipped toward the balcony.

The cold air bit at her bare shoulders. Below, the garden was a maze of shadows and roses. She took a breath and closed her eyes, trying to steel herself.

"Planning your escape already?" a voice murmured behind her.

She turned fast, heels scraping the stone.

And there he was.

Luca Ashthorn.

Not in a news headline or a whispered rumor. Not in the files she'd memorized. But in the flesh.

He wore a black mask that barely concealed anything, as if daring the world to pretend they didn't know who he was. The tailored suit hugged his broad frame like a lover. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his mouth wore the ghost of a smirk.

He looked like sin made human.

Danger in a tuxedo.

And his eyes-those cold, brilliant grey eyes-looked right through her.

"I don't believe we've met," she said, masking her voice with the polite frost of strangers.

He took a step closer. "No," he agreed. "But I remember you."

Her breath caught.

"I never forget a pair of eyes like yours," he added.

The words weren't flirtation. They were observation. A warning.

He knew.

Or at least suspected.

Aria fought the urge to run. She tilted her head instead. "You must see a lot of eyes."

"Not ones hiding so much rage beneath such pretty lashes."

He was circling her, slowly. Watching. Measuring.

"I've heard rumors about you, Mr. Ashthorn," she said, matching his tone. "Some say you're cursed. Others say you were made in a lab."

"And what do you say?"

She met his eyes. "I say the truth doesn't matter. Power speaks louder than stories."

That made him smile. A slow, dangerous thing.

He offered his hand. "Dance with me."

She hesitated. But saying no would draw more attention than yes.

She slipped her hand into his.

His touch burned.

Inside, the quartet had shifted to a waltz. Luca moved like he owned the room, and she followed without thinking. Every turn, every step, felt like a trap disguised as choreography.

"You don't belong here," he said under his breath.

"I could say the same for you."

"But I do belong here, Aria Vale."

Her heartbeat tripped. "You don't know me."

"I know enough. I know you're not afraid of monsters."

The music swelled. His fingers slid along her waist, too intimate, too knowing.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

She stared up at him. "The truth."

A pause.

"Careful," he said. "It tends to come with a body count."

The song ended.

He didn't let go.

"I'll be watching you," he said, voice low and velvet. "Try not to disappoint me."

Then he was gone.

Just like that.

Vanished into the throng of the masquerade.

Aria stood still, breathless, rattled. Her mind screamed a thousand warnings.

But beneath the fear, something else pulsed.

Attraction. Curiosity. Rage.

And the whisper of a memory.

A darkened hallway. Blood on marble. A name carved into flesh.

She clenched her fists.

Luca Ashton wasn't just a billionaire or a beast. He was the key.

To vengeance.

To answers.

To the truth behind what happened to her family.

And tonight was just the beginning.

---