Aria's POV
The young man with the black eyes moves first.
He's down the mansion steps before the driver can even open our door, his expensive shoes crunching on gravel. Up close, he's even more unsettling—tall enough that I have to tilt my head back, with sharp cheekbones and a mouth that looks like it's forgotten how to smile.
But it's his eyes that freeze me in place. Completely black. No warmth. No emotion.
Just... recognition.
Like he knows me.
Welcome home, he says, and his voice is deep and smooth and somehow makes my skin prickle with warning.
Mom climbs out of the SUV, all nervous energy and fake smiles. Thank you. You must be Vincent's son?
Dante. He doesn't look at her. Doesn't blink. Just keeps staring at me like I'm the only person in the universe. And you must be Aria.
How does he know my name?
I force myself out of the car, putting distance between us. Do I know you?
Not yet. His lips curve slightly. But you will.
Before I can respond, an older man appearsfifty-something, silver hair, expensive suit. Vincent Castellano. My new stepfather.
He looks nothing like a man who'd need to trick a struggling woman into marriage. He looks powerful. Dangerous. Like someone used to getting exactly what he wants.
Elena. He kisses Mom's cheek with practiced affection that makes my stomach turn. And Aria. Welcome to your new home.
This isn't my home, I say before I can stop myself.
Silence.
Vincent's smile doesn't waver, but something cold flashes in his eyes. Give it time.
Mom shoots me a please don't ruin this look. I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood.
Dante will show you inside, Vincent continues smoothly. Isabella's preparing rooms for you both.
Dante moves closer, close enough that I smell expensive cologne and something darker underneath—leather and smoke. This way.
He doesn't wait for agreement. Just starts walking toward the mansion like he knows I'll follow.
I don't want to. Every instinct screams to run back to the car, demand the driver take me home.
But Mom's already following Vincent up the steps, her hand tucked into his arm like they're some perfect couple instead of strangers playing house.
I'm trapped.
Dante glances back, those black eyes finding mine. Coming?
I grab my bag and follow, hating every step.
Inside is worse.
The mansion isn't just big—it's a monument to wealth and power. Dark wood paneling. Marble floors that echo with every footstep. Paintings that probably cost more than my entire education.
And it's cold. Not temperature cold, though it's chilly. Cold like a place where warmth goes to die.
Your mother will stay in the west wing with my father, Dante says, leading me down a hallway lined with portraits of stern-looking people in old-fashioned clothes. You're in the east wing. More privacy.
Privacy. Right. More like isolation.
We pass armed guards stationed at random intervals. They nod at Dante with respect that borders on fear.
Why do you need guards inside your own house? I ask.
Protection.
From what?
People who'd like to see my family dead. He says it casually, like discussing the weather.
My heart hammers. What kind of business is your father in?
The kind that requires discretion. Dante stops at a massive oak door, pushing it open. Your room.
I step inside and freeze.
It's beautiful. Huge bed with silk sheets. Antique furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking dark woods. A door leading to a private bathroom with a tub big enough to swim in.
It's also a cage. The windows have decorative bars. The door has a lock on the outside.
This is a prison, I whisper.
It's protection, Dante corrects, stepping inside behind me. Too close. The compound has security protocols. Locked doors keep dangerous things out.
Or keep people in.
His jaw tightens. You're not a prisoner, Aria.
Then why do I feel like one? I spin to face him, anger burning through fear. Why does your father have armed guards? Why does this place look like a fortress? And why the hell do you keep staring at me like you know me?
For the first time, something flickers in those black eyes. Not emotion exactly. More like... pain.
Because I do know you, he says quietly. You just don't remember me.
My breath catches. What?
Three years ago. Behind the campus library. An alley.
The words hit like ice water.
No.
No, that's impossible.
There was a man, I whisper, memories flooding back. Bleeding. Dying. I called 911...
You held my hand. Dante's voice drops to almost a whisper. Promised I wouldn't die alone. You stayed with me until the ambulance came. Do you remember?
I do. God help me, I do.
I was cutting through the alley after a late study session. Found a stranger bleeding from multiple stab wounds, barely conscious. I should have run. Should have just called 911 and left.
But he looked so scared. So alone.
So I stayed. Held his hand. Whispered that he'd be okay until I heard sirens.
I never knew what happened to him.
That was you? My voice cracks.
Dante nods slowly. You saved my life.
I don't understand. How did you why are you
I've been looking for you ever since. He takes a step closer, and I should back away but I'm frozen. And then my father told me he was marrying Elena Bennett. Your mother. I thought it was fate.
Horror crawls up my throat. You knew? You knew he was marrying my mother and you didn't warn us?
Warn you about what? That my father's wealthy? Powerful? That he'd give your mother everything she's ever wanted?
That he's a criminal! I'm shaking now. That this place is a fortress! That you've been stalking me for three years!
I haven't been stalking you. Dante's voice goes hard. I've been protecting you.
From what?
From dangers you didn't even know existed.
He's insane. He has to be insane.
I move toward the door. Stay away from me.
Aria
I mean it. Whatever you think this is, whatever you think you owe me—I don't want it. Just stay away.
I yank the door open and nearly crash into a woman standing in the hallway.
She's beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Mid-forties, designer clothes, dark hair pulled into a perfect bun. Her smile is pleasant.
Her eyes are calculating.
You must be Aria, she says smoothly. I'm Isabella. Vincent's sister.
Dante tenses behind me. What are you doing here?
Welcoming our new family member. Isabella's gaze slides between us, missing nothing. I hope my nephew isn't bothering you, dear. Dante can be... intense.
I'm fine, I manage.
Good. Her smile sharpens. Because we need to discuss the family rules. Particularly the ones about step-siblings.
Something dangerous flashes in Dante's eyes. Isabella
Vincent wants everyone in the Blood Chapel in one hour, she interrupts sweetly. All family members. No exceptions. Her eyes lock on mine. I do hope you'll find our traditions... enlightening.
She glides away, leaving behind the scent of expensive perfume and veiled threats.
I turn to Dante. Blood Chapel? What the hell is a Blood Chapel?
His face has gone completely blank. Emotionless. But his hands are clenched into fists.
Where we swear our oaths, he says quietly. Where we learn the rules that keep this family alive.
What rules?
Dante's black eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see actual fear in them.
The kind that could get us both killed.