Chapter 4 The Devil's Invitation

The invitation arrived in the dead of night.

A black envelope, sealed in blood-red wax, slipped beneath the door of Aria's rented suite at the Hollowmist Hotel. She stared at it for a long moment before picking it up. Her fingers tingled.

No name. No signature.

But she already knew who it was from.

She broke the seal.

Midnight. Ashthorn Manor. Come alone.

The paper was thick, textured like old parchment. Her stomach coiled with anticipation and dread. She'd been trying to find a way back into his world-and now, the beast had opened the gates.

But this wasn't mercy.

It was a challenge.

She slipped the card into her clutch and packed quickly-knife tucked into her thigh strap, burner phone in her bra, poison ring on her right hand. Every instinct screamed caution, but vengeance had its own gravity. And she was already in orbit.

At 11:59, a black car pulled up in front of the hotel without a word or a driver in sight.

The door opened.

She slid inside.

The ride was silent. The city blurred past like a memory she was erasing, and soon the road turned to gravel, trees looming like sentinels around the Ashthorn estate. The manor stood ahead, vast and ominous against the starless sky. Lights glowed in select windows, like eyes watching from inside.

The car door opened for her before the engine even stopped.

A butler stood at the entrance. Pale. Silent. Holding the door like an omen.

"This way," he said without meeting her eyes.

Inside, the manor was cathedral-quiet. Shadows lingered in the corners, devouring sound. Aria's heels clicked like gunshots across the marble floor. Her escort led her down a long hall flanked by portraits-none of them smiling, none of them alive.

They stopped at a door carved with wolves.

"He's waiting."

She stepped in.

Luca stood by the fireplace, shirt sleeves rolled up, jacket gone. A drink in one hand. The fire cast a gold halo around his silhouette.

He didn't turn.

"Most women would've run."

"Most women aren't me."

He smirked and finally looked at her. "And what exactly are you?"

"That depends," she said, walking toward him. "What do you need me to be tonight?"

He didn't blink. "Honest."

Aria tilted her head. "Careful. That's more dangerous than a lie."

He offered her a glass. "To masks. And the ones who dare take them off."

She clinked her glass against his. "To predators who forget their prey can bite."

He laughed. Not loud. Not mocking. Real.

She hated that she liked the sound.

Luca sank into a leather chair and motioned for her to do the same. "You intrigue me, Aria. That's rare. I don't trust rare things."

"Then why invite me here alone?"

"Because I want to know what game you're playing."

"No game," she said. "Just answers."

"To what questions?"

"Like what happened to the girl your father buried alive ten years ago."

His eyes darkened.

The air changed.

"Careful," he said.

"I thought you liked honesty."

"I don't like surprises."

"Neither did my sister."

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

She'd gone too far.

Good.

He stood slowly, drink still in hand, gaze fixed on her like a blade. "You think you know who I am?"

"I know enough."

"No," he said, voice dropping. "You know stories. Shadows. I'm not the villain in your bedtime tale, Aria."

"Then who are you?"

He stepped close enough for her to feel the heat of him. "I'm the monster that monsters fear."

Her breath hitched.

The tension twisted between them like wire. There was no pretending now. No dance. No flirtation.

Just truth.

Violent, electric truth.

"I'm not afraid of you," she whispered.

His fingers brushed her hair back, slow and deliberate. "You should be."

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from somewhere below.

Luca stiffened. His hand dropped.

Alarms flickered red down the hallway.

He turned toward the door just as a guard burst in. "West wing breach-three intruders. Armed."

Luca tossed his drink into the fire. "Get her to the vault."

"I'm not hiding-"

"You are if I say you are."

His voice brooked no argument. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him.

They ran down a side corridor, the manor groaning with sound-shouting, gunfire, heavy boots. Aria's heart pounded, but not from fear. From something more dangerous.

She was seeing behind the curtain now.

Seeing him.

They reached a hidden wall that slid open at his palm print. Inside, a steel-lined vault room blinked with security panels and a reinforced panic door.

He shoved her in. "Stay put."

"What about you?"

"I'm not the one they're after."

And then he was gone.

The door sealed shut.

Aria stood in the eerie silence, fists clenched.

She didn't want protection.

She wanted in.

Wanted answers.

Wanted the truth burning behind Luca Ashthorn's eyes.

From the monitor screens, she watched him move-fast, lethal, unhesitating. He wasn't just rich. He was trained. Ruthless.

Who was this man?

She stared at the blood on his knuckles as he dragged one intruder down a hall by the collar. She zoomed in on the attacker's face.

Her blood ran cold.

That tattoo.

She knew it.

It matched one she'd found on a corpse in the file she'd stolen years ago. Her sister's last photograph had shown the same snake etched into a man's neck.

This wasn't just a random hit.

This was connected to her.

To her past.

To her revenge.

When the chaos died down, the vault door creaked open again.

Luca stood there, bloody, bruised, breathing hard.

"They were after you," he said simply.

She stepped out slowly. "How do you know?"

"Because one of them said your name."

Her chest tightened.

Luca wiped blood from his lip and stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. "What the hell are you involved in, Aria?"

"I could ask you the same."

His mouth twitched. "Looks like neither of us are what we pretend to be."

"Then stop pretending."

He stepped closer, towering over her. "You want truth? Come back tomorrow night. Bring the lies you've been hiding."

"And if I don't?"

He smiled darkly. "I'll come find you."

And with that, he turned and walked back into the firelit shadows.