Chapter Two

Palermo — Club Inferno, Vucciria District 

The glass in Amara’s hand trembled, fingers tight around its stem, though the liquid inside remained unspilled. She didn’t trust herself. Didn’t trust the steady beat of her pulse thundering in her ears, the wild panic that clawed at her chest. 

Luca was here.

The man she had spent the last three years trying to forget. The monster she’d built her life around escaping. The love of her life — and her greatest curse. 

Her mind screamed for her to run. She'd be living under this false illusion of safety, hiding in plain sight, burying herself in work and darkness. Yet now, in the same place where she’d crafted her new identity — behind the bar, among strangers, in the throes of her independence — he had come for her. 

He had always known where to find her. It had been inevitable, hadn’t it? No matter how far she ran, how many oceans and mountains she crossed, he would track her down. He was a force of nature, unstoppable, relentless — like the storm that raged outside. 

Amara turned her back to him, her heart still beating erratically in her chest, but couldn't ignore the weight of his presence. The air shifted the moment he entered, like the entire room had collectively gasped, as though it recognized him too. 

Her fingers brushed against the edge of the bar as she steadied herself. She hated how vulnerable she felt. Hated how the familiar scent of him — leather, smoke, something dangerous — stirred memories she had buried deep. 

She could almost hear the whisper of his voice in her ear, see the flash of his dangerous smile, feel the heat of his touch against her skin. No, not tonight, she told herself. You won’t go back there. You won’t be weak. 

But even as she tried to steady her breath, her body betrayed her. 

His silhouette was too close now, standing in her periphery, too still, too dark. She didn’t need to look at him to know it was Luca. The magnetic pull of his presence was inescapable. 

A deep voice like gravel, cut through the tension. “Vena.”

Her name was a curse on his lips. And it always would be. 

She froze. She hadn’t expected him to speak first. It was as though he already knew her too well. Knew how to shatter her carefully constructed walls with a single word. 

Vena. That wasn’t her name, not really. It was the lie she'd spun. The identity she’d crafted to bury her past, to survive. But to Luca, it would always be Amara — the girl he claimed to have loved, the woman he thought he could possess. 

Turning slowly, she met his gaze. 

Luca stood there, unmoving. He was the same as she remembered, only sharper, harder, more dangerous. His dark hair was slightly longer than she remembered, but it didn’t matter. Those eyes — obsidian, cold, calculating — never wavered. He didn’t even blink as he regarded her as though he was seeing straight through the layers she had built around herself. 

She forced herself to meet his stare. “What do you want?” She asked, her voice steadier than she felt. 

Luca's lips twisted into a faint, predatory smile. “I want what I’ve always wanted, Amara.”

The sound of her name in his mouth made her chest tighten. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She hated how it sounded, how it held so many meanings, so many memories. Memories of a time when they were more than just enemies in a game they couldn’t control. 

“I don’t go by that name anymore,” she managed, her voice trembling despite her attempt to remain cold. I'm Vena now.”

His gaze flickered briefly, a flash of something dark passing across his features before it was gone. “Vena, then. It doesn’t matter. You’re still mine.”

His words hung in the air like a threat, an accusation, a promise. She swallowed hard. The force of them hit her like a blow to the chest. 

“Luca, you need to leave,” she said, trying to steel herself. “This is over. Whatever you think is happening here — it isn’t. I’m not that girl anymore.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Luca took a step forward, closing the distance between them with alarming speed. He was right in front of her now, and she could feel the heat radiating off his body. She could smell him, feel the intense aura that had always surrounded him like an electric storm. The weight of him pressed against her, suffocating her. 

“You think you can hide from me?” He asked, his voice low, the words laced with a mixture of contempt and something darker. Something far more dangerous. “You think I've spent the last three years searching for you just to let you go again? You’re mine, Amara. You always were. 

She felt her heart spike, panic rising in her throat. “No,” she breathed, her voice quivering. “You don’t own me. You don't get to control me. 

The heat in his gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You think you're safe here?” He took another step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “You're not safe anywhere, Amara. Not anymore. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can get past all this bullshit. 

His proximity, the way his body was so close to hers, sent an electric current through her veins. The air between them was charged, thick with the tension of their shared history, and she couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t escape him. 

“I'm not afraid of you,” she said, though her voice was a mere whisper, full of uncertainty. Her hand gripped the edge of the bar tightly, as though it would anchor her in place. 

Luca smiled again, but this time it wasn’t the cold, mocking smile she remembered. There was something darker in it, something feral. “You should be.”

Amara swallowed, trying to fight back the memories that swarmed her mind. The way he had touched her, claimed her, broke her. But she wouldn’t let herself go there. Not now. Not when she had fought so hard to build something else, something apart from him. 

“I don’t need your protection,” she said fiercely, trying to pull away from the crushing force of his presence. 

“Protection?” Luca scoffed, his voice suddenly low, menacing. “This isn't about protection, Amara. This is about making you remember who you really are. Who you belong to.”

For a brief moment, their eyes locked, and something in the depths of his gaze softened — just barely. But it was enough for Amara to see the truth beneath the layers of anger and pride. There was still something there, something that had never died. 

She wasn’t sure whether to hate him for it or to embrace the dangerous pull between them. 

“Why are you here?” She asked quietly, her voice trembling despite herself. 

Luca's lips barely moved as he replied. “Because I never let go. And I’m not going to start now.”