The storm hit the mansion like a warning.
Thunder cracked so loudly Zara felt it in her ribs. The walls shuddered, the chandeliers trembled, and somewhere deep inside the house, the alarms began to blink red.
Not a full alarm not yet.
Just a pulse.
A heartbeat.
A sign that something had crossed the wrong line.
Ricco was already running.
Lorenzo grabbed Zara's wrist and pulled her behind him. Not harshly instinctively.
"Stay close," he said.
"Lorenzo, what's happening?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
Which meant he didn't know.
And Lorenzo De Luca only stayed silent when he was truly afraid.
---
The South Corridor
They arrived first.
The lights were out — every single one. Only the emergency strips along the floor glowed a dull blue, casting the hallway in a cold, unnatural half-light.
Ricco cursed under his breath.
"Someone cut power manually. That panel is internal."
Meaning someone inside the mansion.
Not Lucian.
Zara's pulse raced.
Lorenzo took a step forward.
Then stopped.
Because someone was already standing at the end of the darkened corridor.
A silhouette.
Female.
Tall.
Still as a statue.
Zara's fingers tightened around Lorenzo's sleeve.
"Who is that?" she whispered.
Lorenzo didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because the voice that echoed down the hallway didn't belong to Lucian.
It belonged to a woman.
A voice smooth as velvet, sharp as a blade.
> "You don't recognize me, Renzo?"
Zara froze.
Renzo.
No one called him that.
No one living.
Lorenzo's entire body went rigid.
His heartbeat — Zara felt it beneath her hand — turned violent.
He whispered something she'd never heard from him before.
Not rage.
Not threat.
A name.
"…Elara."
Zara's stomach dropped.
Elara?
Who—
What—
Why did Lorenzo look like he'd seen a ghost?
The woman took one step forward, and the dim blue light kissed her face.
She was beautiful. The haunting kind.
Black hair falling in waves.
Red lips.
Eyes cold enough to freeze a person in place.
She wore black gloves — long, elegant — over hands Zara instinctively knew were deadly.
And she smiled like she had every right to be in his home.
"Hello, Lorenzo."
Zara felt the world tilt, just slightly.
This wasn't jealousy.
This wasn't insecurity.
This was instinct.
Elara was dangerous.
And Lorenzo knew it.
---
"You're supposed to be dead."
Lorenzo's voice was low, controlled — but Zara could hear the fracture in it.
Elara laughed softly.
"I was. You should have stayed to check the body."
Ricco swore. "Boss, she can't be here. We saw the reports—"
"You saw what I wanted you to see, Ricco," she interrupted.
Her eyes shifted to Zara — slow, calculating.
And Zara's blood went cold.
"So this is the girl," Elara murmured. "The one Lucian thinks is your weakness."
She tilted her head.
"The one you kissed last night."
Zara felt heat rush to her face.
Lorenzo stepped in front of her instantly.
"Leave her out of this."
Elara smirked. "Oh, please. If you wanted her safe, you shouldn't have brought her into your house."
Zara opened her mouth — to deny, to ask, to defend herself — but Lorenzo's hand found hers and squeezed.
A warning.
A request.
Don't speak.
Elara walked closer, heels silent on the marble.
"You always had terrible instincts about people," she said to him.
"You think Lucian is your biggest problem? He's predictable. You should be worrying about me."
Lorenzo's jaw clenched.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing… yet."
She smiled.
"I only came to see what you're willing to lose."
Her eyes shifted back to Zara.
And the smile widened.
"Interesting choice, Renzo. She looks fragile."
Zara bristled. "I'm not—"
"Zara," Lorenzo warned under his breath.
But Elara waved a dismissive hand.
"Let her speak. I want to hear what the little lamb sounds like."
Zara stiffened.
Little lamb.
The humiliation burned her skin, but she forced herself not to step forward, not to react.
Elara already held the power.
But she wasn't just looking at Zara — she was studying her, dissecting her, as if searching for a crack.
"Lucian was right," Elara murmured. "She matters to you."
Lorenzo moved — so fast Zara nearly stumbled.
In an instant, he was inches from Elara, voice like steel dragged across stone.
"Touch her," he said softly, "and you die for real this time."
Elara didn't flinch.
She simply smiled.
"There you are," she whispered.
"The man I remembered."
Thunder crashed, shaking the windows.
Elara looked past Lorenzo to Zara one last time — eyes cold, amused, merciless.
"I'll be seeing you soon," she said.
Then she leaned close to Lorenzo, lips brushing his ear as she whispered something Zara couldn't hear.
His fists tightened.
His breathing changed.
When she pulled back, her smile was slow and poisonous.
And then she walked away.
Not ran.
Not hid.
Just walked.
As if she owned the corridor.
As if she owned the fear she left behind.
---
After she was gone
Lorenzo stood completely still.
Breathing hard.
Eyes unfocused.
Muscles locked.
Zara touched his arm gently. "Lorenzo…"
He pulled away.
Not gently.
Not cruelly.
Just… lost.
"Don't," he said quietly. "Not right now."
Zara stared at him — hurt, confused, shaken.
"She knows you."
"She shouldn't."
His voice cracked.
"She shouldn't be alive."
Ricco stepped forward cautiously. "Boss… what do you want us to do?"
Lorenzo didn't look at him.
Didn't look at Zara.
He stared at the floor, at nothing.
"Lock down the mansion. No one leaves. No one enters. Arm every door, every hallway. And put two guards outside Zara's room."
Zara stiffened.
"My room?"
Lorenzo finally looked at her.
And there was something in his eyes she hadn't seen before.
Not anger.
Not conflict.
Fear.
"Zara," he said quietly, "Elara wasn't Lucian's doing."
She swallowed. "Then whose?"
He hesitated.
Then, with a voice that felt like an admission of guilt:
"Mine."
Her chest tightened.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
Lorenzo closed his eyes — just for a second, just long enough to betray how much it cost him.
"It means," he whispered, "that my past is no longer staying buried."
He looked at her — broken, furious, desperate.
"And you're standing exactly where she wants you."
---
Zara didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Lorenzo.
And beneath the mansion, in the shadows of the basement where no one was supposed to go,
Elara's laughter echoed softly a promise of war.