Chapter 6: The Wolf in the Dark

The night clung to the Rossi villa like a second skin. Moonlight spilled over the cliffs, painting the sea in silver streaks, while lanterns glowed faintly in the gardens below. Yet the air felt heavier than beauty should allow, weighted with secrets.

Adriana stood frozen at the balustrade, her gown catching the breeze, her chest rising and falling too quickly. Her eyes locked on the figure emerging from the shadows.

Damian Moretti.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Every instinct screamed at her to call for her guards, to cry out Isabella’s name, to remind herself of who he was. Instead, her lips parted without sound, as if words had abandoned her.

“You’re bold,” she whispered at last, though her voice trembled. “Walking into my family’s garden as though it belongs to you.”

Damian’s smirk was faint, dangerous. He stepped closer, his shoes silent on the stone. “Maybe it does. Your father pretends otherwise, but you and I both know the city is already mine.”

His voice was silk stretched over steel, low enough that only she could hear it. Adriana’s pulse quickened as he drew near, until the torchlight kissed his face—sharp jawline, piercing eyes, the wolfish calm of a man who feared nothing.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said again, forcing her hands to steady on the cold marble. “If my father finds you—”

“Then he’ll know I’m not afraid of him.” Damian’s eyes narrowed, studying her. “And neither are you.”

Her throat tightened. He was too close now, too certain. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.” His gaze flicked down, lingering on the faint tremor in her hands before returning to her eyes. “I know you aren’t like the rest of them. You don’t hide behind your father’s name. You don’t wear the mask quite as well as you think.”

The words struck deeper than she wanted to admit. Adriana swallowed, her voice sharp to mask the truth. “And what does the wolf want with the lamb?”

Damian leaned in slightly, his shadow swallowing hers. “Careful, Adriana. Wolves only hunt lambs that run. You haven’t run once.”

Her breath hitched. The night pressed closer around them, the sound of the sea roaring like blood in her veins. She wanted to step back, to put space between them—but instead, she stayed rooted, trapped by his gaze.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she said softly.

His smirk deepened. “Danger is the only game worth playing.”

For a moment, neither spoke. His eyes held hers, unwavering, as if peeling away every layer she had wrapped around herself. And for the first time in her life, Adriana felt exposed—not because she was weak, but because he saw her strength.

Footsteps echoed faintly from the terrace doors. Voices—laughter, Isabella’s silken tone drifting into the night. Adriana stiffened.

Damian didn’t move. Instead, he lowered his voice to a whisper that brushed against her skin like heat. “You’ll see me again, Adriana. And next time… it won’t be in the dark.”

Then, as swiftly as he had appeared, he melted back into the shadows, vanishing among the cypress trees.

Adriana turned, heart hammering, just as Isabella stepped into the garden with two cousins at her side. Her smile was radiant, but her eyes—sharp, watchful—skimmed over Adriana’s flushed face, her quick breaths, the faint tremor in her hands.

“My dear,” Isabella said smoothly, gliding to her side. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Adriana forced a tight smile, steadying her voice. “Perhaps I have.”

Isabella studied her for a moment too long before laughing lightly, looping her arm through Adriana’s. “Well, let’s hope it wasn’t an omen. You know how superstitious these men are.”

Adriana let herself be led back inside, her skin still burning where Damian’s presence had lingered. She told herself she should feel fear, shame, disgust.

But all she felt was anticipation.