Chapter 3 – Shadows in the Dark

Amara's POV

The soft creak came again. Not loud enough to panic the rational part of me, but sharp enough to send a chill sliding down my spine. I sat completely still on the bed, my breathing shallow.

Someone was outside my door.

I wasn’t in my small apartment anymore. This wasn’t my quiet little escape city. I was in Luca Romano’s house—a place I barely knew, surrounded by people I didn’t trust. A stranger had saved me earlier that night, but saving me didn’t make him safe.

My hand instinctively went to my stomach, pressing lightly, as if my touch alone could shield what was inside me from whatever was on the other side of that door. I glanced toward the lamp on the nightstand but didn’t switch it on. Light would only make me visible. Vulnerable.

Another sound—a faint scrape of boots against wood.

This time, I moved. Slowly, I slid my legs off the bed, my toes brushing the rug, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I scanned the room. The only weapon in sight was the metal lamp. Not exactly ideal, but fear makes anything feel like a sword.

I wrapped my fingers around its base, stood, and held my breath.

The doorknob turned.

Not much. Just a slow, careful twist. Whoever was out there wasn’t stumbling by mistake. They were trying not to be heard.

My pulse spiked, hot and sharp. I took two steps toward the door, positioning myself to the side—out of direct view. The old Amara would have frozen, prayed, waited for someone else to save her. But the old Amara had died the night Dante Moretti threw her away.

A voice whispered on the other side. A man’s voice, low and controlled. “Amara.”

It was Luca.

I didn’t relax.

His voice didn’t mean safety. It just meant the danger wasn’t some random intruder—it wore a familiar face. I tightened my grip on the lamp anyway.

He knocked once. “I know you’re awake.”

I considered pretending I wasn’t. Maybe he’d go away. But something told me Luca wasn’t the kind of man who left things alone just because you didn’t answer.

“Why are you outside my room at midnight?” My voice didn’t shake, though my hands did.

The doorknob stopped turning. A pause. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

A quiet chuckle drifted through the wood, not mocking, just… amused. “I thought you’d say that.”

Another long pause followed. Then, softer, “There’s something we need to talk about.”

I stared at the door, my mind racing.

Every instinct told me to be careful. Luca Romano wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t a savior. He was a man who moved like a storm—calm, calculated, devastating. He didn’t show up at midnight for small talk.

But I also wasn’t stupid. This house was his world, not mine. If he wanted to talk, he would find a way to make me listen.

I set the lamp down and opened the door just enough to see him. He was leaning against the hallway wall, hands tucked in the pockets of his dark slacks, damp hair pushed back from his forehead. He didn’t look tired. Men like him never did.

His eyes flicked over my face, sharp and searching, then softened just slightly. “You don’t sleep much, do you?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one lurking outside my door.”

“Fair,” he said with a small nod. Then his gaze dipped to my hand still resting protectively over my belly. “I won’t hurt you, Amara. You can put the lamp down.”

I glanced at the lamp by the door, then back at him. “Maybe I just like having options.”

His mouth twitched—not quite a smile. “Good. Keep that instinct. It’ll keep you alive.”

A strange silence stretched between us. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t threatening either. Luca had a way of standing still that made it feel like he owned the space around him without needing to raise his voice. Dante had been a storm you couldn’t escape. Luca was more like smoke—quiet, wrapping around you before you noticed.

He tilted his head toward the hallway. “Walk with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not about to have this conversation in a hallway. And because if I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t be standing there with a lamp right now.”

I hated that he had a point.

I followed him, barefoot and tense, through the dim corridors of the villa. Warm yellow lights glowed against dark wooden walls. Everything here smelled faintly of smoke and pine, like the whole house had a heartbeat of its own.

We ended up in a sitting room. A fire crackled quietly in the fireplace, throwing shadows across leather armchairs and shelves stacked with books and old photographs. Luca moved with the ease of someone who belonged everywhere he stepped. I stood near the doorway, unsure what to do with myself.

“You can sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from his.

“I’m fine standing.”

He arched a brow but didn’t push it. “Suit yourself.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching me like someone reading a puzzle instead of a person. I hated that look. It reminded me of Dante, but colder, more deliberate.

“Why am I here, Luca?” I asked finally. “You don’t save people for free.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something that didn’t quite reach his face. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“Then what do you want?”

He poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter on the table, the ice clinking softly. “You were Moretti’s girl.”

I flinched at the name before I could stop myself.

“Not anymore,” I said sharply.

“I know.” He took a slow sip, watching me over the rim of the glass. “That’s what makes this interesting.”

“I’m not interested in your games.”

“I’m not playing a game, Amara. Dante threw away something that belonged to him, and in this world, that means opportunity.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not an opportunity.”

He set the glass down, leaning forward slightly. “You’re more than that. You’re the woman he didn’t think twice about. The woman carrying his child.”

The room felt suddenly too small. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like my baby is a pawn in someone else’s war.”

His gaze held mine, steady and unflinching. “Whether you want it or not, that child already is.”

I took a step back, my breath catching. Luca didn’t soften his words. He didn’t wrap them in pity. He handed me the truth like a blade.

I hated it. But part of me knew he wasn’t wrong.

He stood slowly, hands sliding into his pockets. “Dante Moretti doesn’t let go of anything that belongs to him. Not territory. Not power. Not people. When he finds out where you are—and he will—he’ll come for you.”

“He doesn’t care about me,” I spat. “He made that very clear.”

Luca’s voice dropped lower. “I didn’t say he cares. I said he’ll come. There’s a difference.”

My throat felt tight. For weeks, I’d convinced myself I could build a quiet little life away from all of it. Pretend the monster didn’t exist. But the monster had teeth. And claws that reached across cities.

Luca took a step closer, and I didn’t move away. “I can protect you,” he said. “But protection comes with a price.”

I laughed bitterly. “Of course it does.”

He didn’t flinch. “You’re smart enough to know the world we come from doesn’t offer kindness without a reason.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, a small, bitter part of me wishing I could run again. But running had already failed once. And I wasn’t just running for myself anymore.

“What kind of price?” I asked quietly.

“Loyalty.” His answer came too fast. Too easy.

I met his eyes. “You want me to be yours.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, but not with amusement. “No. I want you to stand beside me. There’s a difference between being claimed and choosing where to stand.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough. You’re smart.

You’re strong. You survived Dante Moretti. That says more than you think.”

I stared at the fire, its glow flickering against the polished wood. My mind spun with every word he’d said. None of it sounded like safety. But safety didn’t exist in the world I’d been dragged into. Not anymore.

“I just wanted a quiet life,” I whispered.

“You were never going to get that,” Luca said softly. “Not with his blood tied to yours.”

I flinched again. His child. Our child. My baby.

He stepped back, giving me space.

“I’m not asking you to trust me, Amara. I know better than that. But think about what happens if you walk out of here tomorrow. Where will you go? Who’s going to keep you safe when he decides you’re worth hunting down?”

I hated that he was right. I hated even more that a part of me, buried deep beneath the anger, didn’t feel threatened when he was near. That part of me recognized something dangerous, but also steady.

I let out a shaky breath. “I need time.”

He nodded once, not pushing. “Time is the one thing we don’t have much of. But I’ll give you what I can.”

Luca turned to leave, but at the door, he glanced back over his shoulder. “You’re not weak, Amara. Don’t make the mistake of acting like you are.”

When he was gone, the silence returned, but it didn’t feel empty anymore. It pressed down on me like the weight of a decision I couldn’t escape.

I sat down in the chair, staring into the flames. I thought about Dante— the way he’d thrown me away. The way he’d looked at me like I was disposable. I thought about the men who had found me earlier, and the quiet way Luca had taken them apart like it was nothing.

This world was made of wolves. And

I couldn’t keep pretending I was a lamb.

---

The next morning, I woke to the sound of distant voices. The house was alive now, no longer wrapped in the quiet of night. Men moved through the halls. The air smelled like coffee and gun oil. I dressed in silence, the echo of Luca’s words still in my head.

When I stepped into the hallway, I found Sofia. I didn’t know her well yet, but she was easy to notice— black bobbed hair, sharp eyes, a gun strapped to her thigh like it belonged there. She was the kind of woman who looked like she’d never begged for anything in her life.

“Morning,” she said, her voice rough like she didn’t waste time on niceties. “You look like someone who didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t.”

“Good. That means you’re paying attention.”

She gestured for me to follow. I didn’t ask where we were going. Curiosity and a thread of caution pulled me along. The villa opened into a courtyard behind the main house. Men trained there, moving like soldiers. Efficient. Silent. This wasn’t just a house. It was an empire.

“You’re not in Bellavita anymore,” Sofia said as we walked. “But make no mistake, the war still reaches here.”

I glanced at her. “Why help me? I’m just—”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything,” she cut in. “You’re the storm he didn’t see coming.”

I didn’t know if she meant Dante or Luca. Maybe both.