Chapter 3: 4 years later

*Aria's POV*

"Adrian!" I called the moment I entered my little home.

"Mommy!" The little rascal came running to me.

Adrian, my 3 years old boy. The little life I ran away to protect. For whom I left the only person that I ever loved.

The village was the kind of place the world forgot.

Tucked between mountains and fog, with cobblestones street that glistened after every rain, and windows thats glowed amber at night like fireflies caught in jars. A place too small for danger.

A place Lucian would never look.

My name wasn't Aria here. It was Elena Vettori, the quiet woman who rented the attic above the bakery, who always smelled faintly of flour. I started working at the bakery ever since I arrived here, so I could provide a good life for my son.

I kept mostly to myself, I didn't want to raise any questions, because engaging with people meant questions that I wouldn't answer.

I was the woman with a child she never let out of her sight.

"Mr Rino let me help him feed the goats today! He said I'm a natural farmer."

I knelt as he collided into my arms, small and warm.

3 years old.

All sunshine.

All stubbornness.

All him. His eyes specifically. Storm-gray, silver-touched, fierce even when curious. The eyes of a man who could silence a room with a glance.

Every day, I wake up with a quiet panic that someone would find me.

"Did you terrorize the goats again?"

"They love me." He insisted dramatically. "They said so."

"Did they?" I raised an eyebrow.

He nodded solemnly. "In goat language."

I couldn't help the soft laugh that slipped out. Moments like these- simple, stupid, perfect- were the reason I had survived the last 4 years. Because for the first time in my life, someone depended on me not to shatter.

"Come on." I told him, lifting him into my arms. "We need to get ready for dinner."

I felt at peace whenever we had these moments. I felt safe.

But I always felt the same faint tremor in my chest.

Fear.

Memory.

Lucian shadow. Even here.

He thought I was dead.

He had to.

He must.

I kept every part of my life small. No phone, no internet in my apartment, cash-only jobs, new

passport under a new name. I was untraceable.

I told myself this silence was freedom.

I told myself I didn't miss him.

Both lies.

The last night we spent together was still etched to my mind, like it was yesterday. Like I never left.

Sometimes I wonder how would my life be if I didn't leave. If I was still with him.

But then I look at Adrian, and realize immediately that nothing could have changed my mind.

Later that evening, Adrian pressed his face to the attic window as snowflake drifted downward, catching the golden glow from the bakery signs below.

"Do you think it will snow tomorrow?" He asked.

"Maybe. Now come on, time for bed." I told him.

I tucked him into bed, smoothed his hair, and kissed his forehead. He fell asleep instantly, a tiny fist curled near his cheek, silver eyed fluttering softly beneath long lashes.

Lucian's eyes.

Sometimes when he slept, he looked so much like him it hurts to breathe.

I sat beside his bed for a long moment, brushing my fingers along the blanket, feeling the weight of four years settle around me like snow on rooftops.

Four years of hiding.

Four years of searching for peace.

Four years of pretending I didn't dream of a man with cold fire in his veins.

I had escaped him.

But I had never escaped what he left inside me.

------

Meanwhile, far away, in a world built from marble, gunpower, and blood-

Lucian Drakov had become somehting else entirely.

A king without mercy.

A ruler without warmth.

A storm sharpened by grief.

He doesn't sleep.

He doesn't drink.

He doesn't smile.

He killed an entire syndicate in one night.

He's hunting a ghost.

Sometimes I wondered what he truly believed happened to me. Whether he pictured a grave. A river. A fire.

Whether he hated me.

Whether he mourned me.

Whether he ever forgave me.

Whether he would forgive me if he knew about Adrian.

I shoved these thoughts down, as I always did.

This new life was fragile. One wrong breath, one wrong person, one wrong coincidence- and everything would crumble.

Which was why I never saw strangers.

Never took risks.

Never told anyone the truth.

Never left the village unless absolutely necessary.

Until tonight.

------

Just after midnight. I crept downstairs to fetch water from the sink in the bakery's kitchen. The pipes upstairswere old and loud enough to wake Adrian, so I always used the downstairs tap late at night.

The bakery was dark except for a cracked bulb humming near the door. I filled the kettle, listening to the silence of the sleeping town.

But then-

Footsteps.

Not the soft, familiar shuffle of the baker.

Heavy, purposeful. Male.

My entire body froze.

No one should be here at this hour.

I turned off the tap silently and backed into the shadows, pressing myself against the wall, breath shallow.

The footsteps stopped near the entrance.

I saw a silhouette, tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark coat and boots dusted with snow. He looked around, scanning the room as if searching for something- or someone.

My heart slammed against my ribs so violently I felt dizzy.

Not him. It can't be him.

It's impossible.

But my mind betrayed me instantly, conjuring the memory of Lucian's presence, his scent, his aura, the oppressive weight he carried effortlessly.

The silhouette didn't radiate that same gravitational pull.

But he was still a stanger. A stranger never came to this village.

I tried to stay calm.

Maybe he got lost.

Maybe he needed directions.

Maybe this was nothing.

The man pulled out his phone, its harsh blue glow slicing the darkness. He typed something quickly, then he raised as if taking a photo of the storefront.

A cold chill dripped down my spine.

Why take photos?

I backed toward the stairs.

"Excuse me." A voice called from the doorway.

My blood froze.

The stranger moved closer to the counter, squinting into the shadows where he stood.

"Is anyone here?" He asked.

His voice wasn't threatening. It was normal. Calm. But my instincts screamed nonetheless.

People like me didn't survive by trusting calm voices.

I said nothing.

Didn't breathe.

Didn't blink.

After a moment the man sighed, stepped back outside and disappeared into the snowy night. Through the bakery window, I watched him walk across the square, heading toward the village inn.

I stood there long after he vanished, skin prickling, pulse hammering like the beating of wings trapped in cage.

Strangers meant questions.

Questions meant danger.

Danger meant Lucian.

When I finally climbed the stairs back to my attic, I crawled into bed beside Adrian, pulling his small body into my arms, heart still racing.

His lashed fluttered as he stirred. "Mommy?"

"It's okay." I whispered, pushing his brown hair back. "Go back to sleep."

He nestled closer, unaware of the storm building outside our quiet world.

I didn't sleep at all.

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