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Chapter 3 - Chapter Two

The gavel's echo still rang in Elena's ears when she realised she was moving. Not toward the exit like the others, but toward the shadowed corridor where he'd vanished.

The Masquerade Auction was a labyrinth — corridors lined with Renaissance paintings, mirrors that made the hallways seem to stretch into infinity. But there was no mistaking which way he'd gone. The scent lingered: expensive, understated, laced with something metallic.

She caught a flash of black feathers ahead.

"Excuse me, signorina."A security guard stepped into her path, broad-shouldered, masked in silver.

"Lost?" His Italian was polite but his posture was not.

Elena tilted her head, letting her silk wrap slip from one shoulder. "Not in the least."

The guard hesitated just long enough for her to slip past.

Her heels clicked on marble, muffled by the thrum of a distant cello. The air grew cooler. Somewhere ahead, a door creaked.

She pushed through and found herself in the courtyard — lanterns casting pale circles over cobblestones slick with mist. A single gondola bobbed at the private jetty, the water catching the faint shimmer of the moon.

He was there. Standing at the edge.

The Black Peacock didn't turn immediately. It was as if he'd known she would follow, and was giving her time to decide whether she truly wanted to.

"You bid against me," he said at last, his voice deep enough to vibrate in her bones.

Elena stepped forward, the night air biting her skin. "You put your mark on that mirror."

"That mirror," he said, glancing at her for the first time, "was never meant to be here. And you—" his gaze swept over her, lingering without hurry "—were never meant to notice."

"I notice a great many things," she said.

"Dangerous habit."

A low hum of motors drifted over the canal. From the far end of the waterway, a sleek black motorboat slid into view — no lights, only the faint glint of steel.

His jaw tightened. "Go back inside."

"Why?"

"Because what's coming will not ask for your name before it kills you."

The motorboat was closing fast. Shadows moved on deck.

Before she could speak, his arm was around her waist, pulling her into the gondola. The boat rocked, water slapping against its sides. He shoved off with one sharp thrust, sending them gliding into the current just as the black motorboat reached the jetty.

Shouts in a language she didn't recognise followed them. Something splashed — not water. Bullets.

"Get down," he said.

She ducked low, heart hammering, as the Black Peacock steered them into a narrow side canal. The walls of the buildings loomed so close she could touch them. Their reflections warped in the black water, twisting into something monstrous.

When they finally slowed, the silence was deafening.

He looked at her then — not like a stranger, but like a man who'd just made a decision. "If you want answers, Elena Menon, you'll have to survive the questions first."

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