Night came fast.
Storm clouds rolled over the estate like bruises on the sky, and thunder echoed through the halls like a warning. Amethyst sat curled in a chair by her window, watching the rain slide down the glass like the tears she wouldn't let herself shed.
She hated him.
She hated this place.
She hated the way he made her feel—like she was being watched, studied, desired… and caged.
A knock at her door startled her.
Not soft. Urgent.
She crossed the room and opened it a sliver.
Luciano stood there, but something was different. His shirt was soaked through with rain. His hair clung to his forehead. Blood dripped from a cut on his jaw.
And his eyes—normally cold, unreadable—were on fire.
"Come with me," he said, voice hard.
"What happened?"
"No questions. Move."
She didn't have time to argue. He grabbed her wrist—not cruelly, but firmly—and pulled her down the hallway. Fast. Focused. Two armed men trailed behind them.
"The estate's been breached," he said under his breath. "Someone got through the gates."
Her heart skipped. "What does that mean?"
"It means whoever's after you isn't waiting anymore."
They reached a hidden door behind a tapestry—a narrow staircase spiraling down into darkness. He pushed it open and pulled her inside before she could hesitate.
"Luciano—"
He turned and pressed a finger to her lips.
"Don't say my name," he murmured. "Not here."
He led her down into what felt like the bones of the house—stone walls, dripping pipes, and silence so deep it rang in her ears. At the end of the hallway was a vault door.
He opened it with a fingerprint scan, then pushed her inside.
It wasn't a prison. It was a safe room.
Dim lights flickered on. Inside: a bed, water, security monitors. A first aid kit. And silence.
"You'll stay here," he said. "No one gets in without my key."
"What about you?"
He locked eyes with her. "I'll be back."
But just as he turned to leave, the power flickered.
Then died.
Everything went black.
Alarms screamed through the hallway.
Luciano's head snapped to the monitors, which were now static.
"Damn it," he muttered, and before she could ask anything, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a sleek pistol, checking it with the kind of calm that only killers had.
A loud bang sounded in the distance.
Not thunder.
A gunshot.
Luciano moved to the door, but Amethyst grabbed his arm. "You'll get killed."
He looked at her then—really looked at her.
And for once, she saw it.
Not the killer.
Not the don.
Just the man.
Tired. Angry. Protective.
He cupped her cheek with one hand, warm and rough.
"If I die," he said softly, "this world will rip you apart."
"Then don't die," she whispered.
Something in him cracked. She saw it in his eyes—a war he'd fought alone for too long. Then, without warning, he pulled her in and kissed her forehead. Not soft. Not sweet. A claim.
"I'll be back," he growled, and disappeared into the dark.
And Amethyst stood in the quiet, her heart thundering louder than the storm.
Waiting. Watching.
Knowing that something had shifted between them.
And that whatever came next…
It wouldn't be cold anymore.