Aria did not remember falling asleep. One moment she was curled on the couch in Dominic's penthouse, the smell of leather and expensive cologne wrapping around her like a blanket. The next, her eyes opened to morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her head throbbed gently from everything she had cried out the night before, and her muscles felt heavy, as if her body had finally let go after years of holding in too much.
The city buzzed below, completely unaware of the storm that had ripped through her life. A storm with a name. Dominic Moretti.
The realization that she was still in his world hit her all at once. She sat up slowly, wincing at the stiffness in her back. The living room was empty, silent except for the faint ticking of a gold-rimmed clock on the wall. She blinked toward the glass dining table where a tray sat waiting. Breakfast. A steaming cup of coffee, croissants, and fresh fruit. No note. No message.
She stood, walked over barefoot, and stared at it for a long time.
It had been years since someone had thought to feed her without expecting something in return.
Footsteps echoed softly behind her.
"You are awake."
The low voice nearly made her drop the plate. She turned and found Dominic leaning against the doorway, a cigarette burning between his fingers. His shirt was half-buttoned, his dark hair messy like he had been running his hands through it all morning.
She hated how effortlessly dangerous he looked.
"I was just about to leave," she said quietly, reaching for her shoes on the floor. Her voice sounded stronger than she felt.
Dominic's brow lifted slightly, but he didn't move. "You think you can just walk out of here after what happened last night?"
"I did not ask you to save me."
"No," he said, voice deepening. "But I did. And now you're part of something you do not understand."
She stared at him. "You make it sound like I belong to you."
His eyes darkened. "You do not. Not yet."
The silence between them crackled.
Aria's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. "I do not need your protection."
"Maybe not," Dominic said, pushing off the wall and walking toward her. "But they saw your face. You think James and his friends are going to forget what happened? You think they will let it go?"
Her stomach twisted. She hated that he was right.
Dominic stepped closer, close enough for her to smell the smoke and the scent of something darker underneath. "You can leave if you want. I will not stop you. But if you walk out that door, you do it knowing what's coming."
She met his eyes. Cold. Calculating. But somewhere deep behind them, something flickered. A quiet fury. Not at her. For her.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.
His jaw clenched. "Because I have seen people like them bury girls like you. And I am tired of watching."
She looked down, the ache in her chest spreading like wildfire. She should walk away. She knew that. But something inside her kept pulling toward him. Maybe it was the silence behind his words. The promise of revenge. The terrifying comfort of not being alone anymore.
Dominic turned away and stubbed out his cigarette. "You are not a prisoner, Aria. But if you stay, I will show you how to fight."
---
Later that day, Dominic made a call.
"Luca," he said into the phone as he looked out the window of his private office. "Find out who James Callahan's father owes favors to. If they think they can pull him out from under this, they are mistaken."
Luca's voice crackled on the other end. "And the girl?"
"She stays. For now."
"Understood."
Dominic ended the call and looked down at the city. The streets were filled with people who had no idea who ruled them. No idea that everything ran on blood and silence. Aria had no idea what she had stepped into. But he would make sure she survived it.
---
Meanwhile, Aria stood in one of the empty guest rooms, her fingers hovering over a rack of clothes Dominic's people had brought in for her. Designer brands she could never afford in her wildest dreams. Everything her size, everything elegant. Dresses. Coats. Even a pair of heels she remembered seeing once in a magazine and laughing at the price tag.
She had no idea who Dominic truly was, not really. But she was starting to understand the kind of power he held. It was not just in his money or the guards that flanked the elevator. It was in the way people moved when he entered a room. In the way silence followed him like a shadow.
And now she was here. In the middle of it.
A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Isabella standing in the doorway, the tall woman who had greeted her when she first arrived last night.
"I thought you might want some air," Isabella said with a small smile. "Come with me."
Aria hesitated, then nodded and followed.
They stepped out onto a rooftop garden, hidden by tall stone walls and thick ivy. It was quiet up there. Peaceful in a way that felt surreal.
Isabella handed her a warm drink.
"I know this world seems terrifying," she said softly. "But sometimes the most dangerous places are the ones that teach us how to survive."
Aria stared at her. "You know Dominic well?"
Isabella smiled faintly. "I owe him my life."
There was a pause.
"He seems cold," Aria admitted.
"He has to be. In this world, softness is a liability." Isabella looked over the city. "But I have seen what he is like when he chooses someone. He does not choose lightly."
Before Aria could ask what that meant, a phone rang in Isabella's pocket. Her face changed instantly. Tension gripped her features.
"What is it?" Aria asked, pulse quickening.
Isabella didn't answer right away. She was already moving.
By the time they reached the elevator, Dominic was there waiting. His face was like stone.
"What happened?" Aria asked, heart pounding.
Dominic's voice was ice. "There was an ambush at one of my properties. Someone sent a message."
Aria felt the blood drain from her face. "You think it is about me?"
He didn't answer.
But the way his hand brushed her back protectively said enough.
This was no longer just about a girl who had been broken.
This was war.
And Aria had just become part of something much bigger.