Chapter 4 : The Woman I Remembered

Adonis POV.

"Cazzo," I muttered, leaning against the cold stone wall outside the asylum gates. "I forgot how much I hated this place."

A soft, familiar laugh came through the phone pressed against my ear.

"You don't have a choice, boss," Matteo's voice replied. "Keeping her in that facility is the only way to shield her from the family until you find out the truth of what happened back then. Were you able to get anything out of her today?"

I stared back at the dark, silent windows of the mental institution, letting out a heavy breath.

"No," I said softly. "She just stared at me with that same blank expression, as if I were a complete stranger. But something about the place felt different today."

"You haven't set foot in Italy for five years, boss. Everything probably feels a bit off."

"Maybe," I conceded, pushing off the wall and walking down the dimly lit road. "Does anyone know I'm back yet?"

"No, boss. The word on the street is still that you're arriving next week, exactly as you planned."

"Good," I said, a slow smile touching my lips beneath my black face mask. "Let's keep it that way."

"Boss, wait," Matteo interrupted, his relaxed tone suddenly disappearing. "I just got a ping on your GPS tracking."

I stopped walking, my eyes scanning the quiet street. "What is it?"

"Multiple thermal signatures moving directly toward your position. And they aren't our men."

I chuckled, adjusting the brim of my face cap lower over my eyes. "Well, isn't this a warm welcome home?"

"Boss, I'm serious! They're almost on top of—"

I felt the sudden disturbance in the air behind me before I even heard the footsteps.

Instinct took over. I jerked my head a few centimeters to the right, feeling the cold rush of wind as a blade whistled past my ear.

I spun around, stepping back to create distance. Three men dressed in nondescript black tactical gear stood in a semi-circle, their knives drawn.

"You boys really lack manners," I said smoothly, ending the call and sliding my phone into my pocket.

The middle attacker lunged, driving his blade toward my chest. I sidestepped the thrust, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it hard until the bone cracked. He gasped in pain, but before I could finish him, a second man slashed at my flank.

I blocked the strike with my forearm, driving a heavy knee into his ribs, but the third man took advantage of the opening.

A sharp, searing heat sliced across my side.

Pain flared immediately, and I felt warm blood soaking through my shirt. I kicked the attacker back, pressing a hand against the wound to staunch the bleeding.

Four more shadows rounded the street corner.

Seven against one, bleeding, and stuck on an open road with no cover. Fighting them off here was stupid, especially when my presence in Italy was supposed to be a secret.

"Not today," I muttered under my breath.

I turned and sprinted down the street, my boots pounding against the pavement as my side burned with every step. I needed a place to lay low.

I spotted a narrow alleyway between two brick buildings up ahead and pushed my speed.

As I neared the mouth of the alley, a slender arm suddenly shot out from the dark.

Before I could react or draw the knife tucked at my spine, a quick, forceful grip caught my coat sleeve and yanked me violently into the shadows.

My instincts screamed. I slammed my back against the wall, my hand instantly flying to the hilt of my blade.

"Shh," a voice whispered.

A soft, cool hand slammed firmly over my masked mouth, pinning me against the brick wall.

"Shut the fuck up," the voice hissed, her head tilted toward the street. "I don't need you dragging your trouble to my doorstep."

My breath hitched.

The voice was unmistakably familiar, but the tone was completely wrong.

I lowered my eyes to the woman standing inches from me in the alley's gloom.

My chest tightened.

Ileana.

What the hell was she doing out here?

It had been five years since I last saw her. Back then, she had been an eighteen-year-old girl—quiet, delicate, with soft, frightened eyes whenever she was in the presence of people.

But the woman standing before me now was unrecognizable.

Her raven hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, though a few stray locks framed her sharp cheekbones. Her emerald-green eyes didn't hold a single drop of fear. They were sharp, calculated, and dangerously cold.

The heavy, uneven footsteps of the men chasing me thundered past the alley opening, their voices fading down the main street.

We stayed motionless until the sound completely died away.

Slowly, she pulled her hand back from my masked face. The faint yellow light from a distant streetlight caught the side of her profile, illuminating her smooth skin and the cold sneer on her lips.

She turned her full gaze on me, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down.

"Next time you're running for your life," she said, her voice dropping into a smooth, stern rhythm, "try running in the opposite direction. Got it?"

I stared at her, completely stunned.

A loose strand of hair had fallen across her eyes. Acting purely on impulse, I raised my hand, reaching out to tuck the hair behind her ear.

Smack!

She swatted my wrist away with surprising force, her grip firm and precise.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said, stepping back slightly. "I just saved your ass, and you're going to turn into a creep?"

In a single fluid motion, a small silver blade appeared in her hand, the steel catching the dim alley light.

"I have a knife," she warned, her eyes locking onto mine without a single flicker of hesitation, "and I know how to handle it. Unlike those men out there, you won't walk out of this alley alive if you try anything stupid."

A quiet laugh almost escaped my throat.

She was threatening me. Me.

She reached down, casually picking up her shopping bags she had set on the ground, a lollipop still resting comfortably between her lips. Without giving me another glance, she turned on her heel and walked out of the alleyway, her boots clicking softly against the pavement.

I stood frozen in the dark, watching her slim figure disappear into the night air.

My hand moved up, touching the black cloth mask covering the lower half of my face, then adjusting the brim of my cap.

I knew I was masked. I knew my face was hidden. But that meant nothing.

When we were younger, I had once put on a full, grotesque mask during a festival just to scare her. She hadn't even flinched. She had looked straight into my eyes and immediately said my name.

Ileana had always recognized me by my eyes alone. No matter what I wore or how dark it was, she always knew when I was near.

Yet tonight, she had looked straight into my eyes from inches away and seen nothing but a random, annoying stranger.

There was no warmth, no memory, no recognition at all.

I pulled my phone back out of my coat and pressed redial.

"Boss!" Matteo answered instantly. "Are you alright? The thermal signals lost your position!"

"I'm fine," I said, my voice quiet as I stepped out of the alley and stared down the empty street where she had walked. "The chase is over."

"Thank God. What happened?"

"Something very interesting," I replied, a cold, curious smile spreading beneath my mask. "Matteo, I need a complete file on my desk by tomorrow morning."

"On who?"

"Ileana Bellucci," I said firmly. "I want to know every single thing that happened to her during the five years I was away."

A/N: And now we’re finally inside the Devil’s head. 😏🖤

Elena just met the Devil himself and didn’t even recognize him. 😂👀

So… what do you think is going to happen when these two finally figure each other out? 👀

See you in the next chapter, lovelies! 🖤