The cemetery smelled of damp earth and waxed roses, as if the world itself mourned in muted tones.
Elara stood a step behind the others, hands stuffed deep in her coat pockets, heart lodged somewhere between grief and fury.
She had seen death before. But this—her father's coffin lowered into the cold, unforgiving soil—felt like the world had ripped open a wound too large to close.
Alessandro De Luca appeared at her side without warning, as silent and controlled as a shadow slipping through the mist. Black suit, black gloves, black eyes that refused to blink, as though the sun itself feared to touch them.
"You're late," she whispered, bitter.
"I timed it perfectly," he replied, voice low, unyielding. "Unlike you, I keep my promises."
She shot him a glare sharp enough to pierce stone. "You—what the hell are you doing here? This isn't your funeral."
"It is, in a sense," he said. "He was under my watch. And I failed."
Her chest tightened. "You didn't fail him—he made his choices."
Alessandro's lips curved—not quite a smile. "Choices that left you exposed. That's my failure."
She wanted to hate him. She wanted to spit in his face and walk away, but the moment their eyes met… something trembled inside her.
A pulse she couldn't name, a tremor in the air between them.
"Stop looking at me like that," she said, voice brittle. "You're not… you're not allowed."
"I am allowed," Alessandro murmured, stepping closer. The faint scent of rain and leather clung to him, suffocating and addictive. "By law. By your father's wishes. By necessity."
"You sound like a tyrant," she hissed, though her knees felt weak.
"Necessity often wears the mask of tyranny," he said quietly, almost as if confessing a sin. "Do you think I enjoy this?"
Elara's laugh was sharp, bitter. "No. You enjoy the control. The power. Don't lie, bastard."
He didn't flinch. Instead, his gaze darkened, holding hers as though reading her soul aloud.
"You're angry," he said, "and rightfully so. But anger won't save you."
"Then what will?" she asked, voice trembling despite herself. "You? Watching me like some pet while the world closes in?"
"You think I watch," Alessandro replied softly, "but I do more than that. I feel. And my wolf… feels it too."
Her breath caught. Something primal stirred in the space between them.
"Wolf?" she repeated, incredulous. "What the hell are you talking about?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
The air seemed to shiver. She glanced toward the trees lining the cemetery, and for the first time, she sensed a presence—a shadow that was neither human nor beast, yet unmistakably alive.
Alessandro's hand brushed against hers as he adjusted the lapel of his coat. The contact was brief, controlled, almost accidental… but it sent a current through her.
"Don't," she whispered, pulling back, though the tremor inside her lingered.
"You can't stop it," he said. "Not yet."
The funeral drew on. Speeches, condolences, tears. Elara moved through the motions like a ghost, but Alessandro remained at her side, silent and unblinking. He didn't cry—not even when his wolf growled softly, low and warning, for the first time in decades.
Elara felt the vibration through the ground. Felt it through her chest. Something dark, old, and unrelenting.
She turned to him, voice tight. "What the hell is that?"
"Protection," he said simply. "A warning. To those who think they can touch you."
She shivered, despite herself. "You make me feel like I'm… like I'm property."
He finally allowed himself a hint of a smile. "You're alive. That is my only concern. Not your approval."
Her hands clenched at her sides. "You're impossible."
"I'm necessary," he said, voice low, unwavering.
And yet… the way his eyes lingered, the tremor of something between them, it made her heart hammer in a way that scared her more than death itself.
When the ceremony ended, mourners drifting away in muted cars and whispered condolences, Alessandro guided her gently—not harshly—toward the car.
"You're watching me," she said, voice raw. "Every move, every glance. Holy shit, I hate this."
"I'm not watching," he replied, calm. "I'm aware. There's a difference."
"Awareness sounds a lot like stalking," she muttered, tugging at her coat.
"Then consider it… professional courtesy," he said, almost teasing.
She blinked. "Professional courtesy? You're insane."
"Perhaps," he admitted. "But so is the world. And you? You're walking into it unarmed."
His hand brushed hers again as he opened the car door. Not by accident. Not by carelessness.
Elara jerked her hand back, heart hammering, though the warmth lingered in the air between them.
"Fuck," she muttered under her breath. "I hate this place. I hate him. I hate…"
Her words trailed off as his eyes caught hers again, dark and unreadable.
"You'll get used to it," Alessandro said softly. "Or you'll fight it. Either way… you'll stay close."
She glared at him, but beneath the anger, a seed of understanding sprouted—this man, impossible and infuriating, would not let her go. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
And when the wolf growled again, sharper this time, low and guttural, Elara felt it resonate through her like a warning, a claim, a bond she couldn't yet name.
Something ancient stirred.
Something dangerous.
Something that would not be denied.
The cemetery lay in thick fog, gravestones emerging from the mist like bones from the earth.
Elara had lingered, long after the funeral had ended, drawn by a restlessness she couldn't name. The others had gone. Cars departed silently along the gravel drive. But she stayed, coat damp, boots pressed into mud, heart hammering.
Then she saw it.
A shadow moving between the stones, fluid, deliberate, almost human—but not quite.
Her breath caught.
Alessandro had been silent beside her, but she could feel him—his presence tense, coiled like a spring.
"You see it too," she whispered.
"Yes," he replied, voice low, almost a growl. "Do not move."
Elara froze. The air vibrated—not from the fog, not from the wind—but from something deeper, primal. Alessandro's jaw tightened. His wolf stirred beneath the surface, a rumble she could feel in her chest.
"Holy shit," she muttered under her breath. "What the hell is that?"
"Protection," he said simply. "And warning."
The figure paused, glancing toward them, and for the briefest moment, Elara could see its face—a mask of intent, cold and measured. She felt a pulse of recognition she didn't understand.
"You know them," she said, voice shaking.
Alessandro didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, hand brushing hers almost by accident—or so it seemed. She flinched, the tremor of contact reverberating through her in ways that were utterly confusing. Her pulse stuttered.
"You can't stop it," he murmured. "Not yet."
"What is it—some sick joke? Some ghost?" she snapped, though her voice trembled. "You're insane, bastard!"
"I'm necessary," he replied, eyes fixed on the shadow. "They are dangerous. And you… are mine to protect."
Elara wanted to hate him. She wanted to turn, to run, to scream. But the shadow didn't wait. It moved with purpose, slipping behind stones and bushes, staying just out of reach. Alessandro's wolf growled—a sound low, primal, vibrating against her chest, sending shivers down her spine.
"Do you feel that?" she whispered.
"Yes," he said. "It's a bond."
"A bond?" she repeated. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You'll understand," he said, tone clipped, eyes not leaving the shadow. "Soon enough."
The figure shifted again. This time closer. Faster.
"Elara!" Alessandro barked suddenly. His voice cut through the fog like a blade. "Down!"
She obeyed instinctively, pressed herself to the wet grass. Heart hammering. Breath ragged. Every muscle tense.
The shadow faltered, and she glimpsed a flash of a familiar symbol—a mark she recognized from her father's study.
"That's…" she whispered.
"Yes," Alessandro said softly. "Connected to him. Connected to your death if you stray."
Her stomach twisted. "My death? What the fuck do you mean?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, hand brushing her shoulder, grounding her. That contact… it sent another tremor through her. Her head spun.
"You feel it," he said, eyes locked on hers. "That… connection. Do you feel it?"
"I… I don't know," she admitted, shaking. "I—what is this? Why—why do I feel… something?"
"It's a bond," he repeated, voice low, steady, unyielding. "You can fight it if you want, but it's there. And it's stronger than fear."
Elara swallowed hard, heart pounding. "You're insane. I'm not… I'm not yours. And I don't need…" She faltered. Something raw and wild curled in her chest. Something she couldn't name.
"You're mine to protect," he said, his voice a whisper now. "Whether you like it or not."
The shadow moved again, and this time, it was closer, bold, daring. Alessandro's wolf growled louder—low, guttural, commanding. The sound was unmistakable, filled with warning, claim, and something dangerous she couldn't yet define.
"Elara," Alessandro said, voice tight, "back to the car. Now."
She hesitated, drawn by curiosity, by fear, by something else entirely. She wanted to see, to understand. But the rumble of his wolf beneath the surface… it wasn't just a warning to her. It was a command.
"Fuck this," she muttered, turning to leave—but the shadow was suddenly gone. Vanished as if it had never existed.
Alessandro's gaze softened slightly, but his wolf did not quiet. The tremor lingered in the air, heavy, palpable.
"You see," he said, voice low, almost dangerous, "the world doesn't wait. And neither will your enemies."
Back at the estate, the air was warmer, but the tension had followed them. The halls were long, dark, and suffocating. Guards moved with silent precision. Lights were dimmed. Security cameras followed her every step.
She stopped in the foyer, staring at the grand doors, the polished stone floors, the sense of quiet command.
"You make me feel like a prisoner," she muttered, pacing. "A pet. Holy shit, this is insane. What the hell am I doing here?"
"You are alive," Alessandro said softly. "That is all that matters."
"I hate this," she snapped. "You… you watch me like some predator. I hate you!"
"I don't watch," he corrected. "I observe. There's a difference."
She glared at him. "What's the difference? You tell me to do things. You… control everything. Damm it!"
"Control isn't the same as care," he said evenly. "But I'm responsible. Your life depends on it."
Her chest tightened. "You… you're impossible. Fuck, bastard."
He stepped closer, calm, deliberate, presence pressing into her, a storm restrained. "I'm necessary. And soon, you'll realize… you cannot outrun this bond. Not now. Not ever."
She shook her head. "I'm not… I can't…"
"You can," he said softly. "But only if you trust me."
She wanted to spit at him. To scream. To run.
But the tremor—the connection she couldn't deny—pulled her toward him in ways her mind refused to name.
And then, a knock at the door.
Before she could respond, the door opened. A man stood there, tall, sharp, and dangerous-looking, eyes glinting with recognition.
"Elena Romano?" he said, voice smooth but edged with steel. "I have questions that only Alessandro De Luca would answer."
Elara's heart stopped.
"How the hell did you—?" she began.
Alessandro's jaw tightened. "You were warned. No one enters this estate without clearance."
The stranger's eyes flicked toward her, then back to Alessandro. "I know enough to be dangerous," he said. "And I know you know it."
Elara glanced at Alessandro. His wolf growled again—louder, closer, vibrating through the floor, through her bones. She felt claimed. Protected. Threatened. Confused.
"Who the hell is this?" she demanded.
"He's…" Alessandro's eyes darkened, voice low and sharp. "…someone who underestimated me once. I cannot allow him to underestimate you."
Elara's pulse pounded. Her chest felt tight, trembling. "I don't understand. I don't want to understand. I hate this."
"You'll understand," Alessandro said, hand brushing hers again, faintly, intentionally. The tremor that pulsed between them made her shiver. "Soon enough."
And then the man stepped forward. His smile was calm. Too calm. And she realized—the danger wasn't Alessandro. It had never been Alessandro.
It was the world. And now, she was caught in it.