~Annalyn POV~
It rained the day Mama sold me.
Not the kind of heavy rain that roars like thunder and rattles rooftops. No, it was soft, slow. Like the sky was mourning but didn't want to make a scene. A drizzle that made the streets of Cebu glisten under the dull orange glow of broken lampposts.
I stood by the window, fingers pressed against the cold glass, watching our front gate swing in the wind. My suitcase sat by the door. I hadn't packed it, Mama did. She didn't even let me touch it. Like I was already gone.
"Annalyn," she called from the kitchen, her voice low but sharp. "Come here!"
I didn't move. My chest felt tight, like something was pressing down on it and my throat ached from holding back the tears. I turned slowly and faced her. She was wiping her hands on her apron, pretending everything was normal. Like she hadn't just sold her only daughter to a stranger.
"You'll be safe there," she said, not looking at me. "They have money, you'll be taken care of."
"Am I a dog, Ma?" My voice came out cracked. "To be handed over like some..."
"Enough!" Her eyes flashed. "Do you think this is easy for me? We have debts, Annalyn. Your father is gone, and I can't do this alone... don't you dare act like I want this."
"Then say no."
She paused, her shoulders dropped. "You don't understand how powerful these people are," she whispered. "They made the offer we couldn't refuse. No one refuses the Del Pieros."
Del Piero? I'd heard the name before. Everyone in Cebu had, they weren't just rich ... they were untouchable. A family of businessmen, politicians... and rumors, whispers, really. People said they were cursed. Or worse, not entirely human. That girls who married into the family were never seen again.
Mama walked over and placed something cold in my palm. A silver necklace with a crescent moon pendant.
"It belonged to your grandmother, she wore it when..." She trailed off and looked away. "Just wear it. It might protect you."
I stared at her, the pain in my chest turning to fire.
"I'm not going to some stranger's house to play dress-up and pretend to be happy. You know that, right?" Mama didn't answer, she just hugged me. It was the first time she'd touched me in weeks.
The car came for me at midnight. A sleek black vehicle with windows tinted so dark I couldn't see the driver. The man who stepped out was tall, in a black coat and leather gloves. He looked like he belonged in a mafia film.
"Miss Annalyn Cruz?" he asked.
"Yes."
He nodded once. "I'm here on behalf of Señor Matteo Del Piero, please, get in."
I hesitated, looking back at our small house... the peeling paint, the broken fence, the yellow light glowing weakly in the kitchen window. Mama didn't come out, not even to say goodbye.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and got in the car. We drove for hours.
Through winding roads and thick trees. The farther we got, the more the world outside disappeared, it felt like I was being transported to a different dimension.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To Isla Lobo," the driver said without turning. "A private estate off the coast of Bohol."
"An island?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I frowned. "Why an island?" He didn't answer.
It was nearly dawn when we arrived, I stepped out of the car and into fog. The estate loomed ahead like a forgotten castle... all stone walls, arched windows, and silence. Not a single sound, not even birdsong.
A woman stood at the door, wearing a black uniform and a stern face. "You're late," she said to the driver.
"She insisted on seeing her mother one last time."
Her eyes shifted to me, cold and sharp. "You'll follow me now."
I was too tired to fight, and I followed her inside.
The hall was long and dim, lined with paintings of unfamiliar faces — all with the same piercing gray eyes. Men, women, children. All serious, all watching.
She led me to a large wooden door and knocked once.
"Enter," a voice said from inside.
My heart jumped as she opened the door and pushed me gently inside. The room was dimly lit, with tall windows covered in heavy velvet curtains. And in the center stood a man.
He was tall, lean, barefoot. His white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, and his hair was damp, like he'd just come from a shower. His face was striking... not handsome in the usual way, but sharp and regal. Like a wolf surveying his prey.
He turned to face me. "I'm Matteo Del Piero," he said.
I blinked. "You're… young."
He smiled faintly. "Disappointed?"
"I thought I was being married off to some old man with bad teeth and a cane."
He laughed, deep and soft. "You're bold, I like that."
He walked toward me slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "You belong to me now, Annalyn."
My stomach twisted. "I'm not a thing."
He stopped inches away, looking down at me.
"No," he said. "You're not, but you are mine." Then he leaned in and sniffed my neck.
I froze. "What are you doing?"
He pulled back slightly, his eyes darker than before. "You smell… different."
"Excuse me?"
He didn't explain, instead, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small bottle... silver and smooth. He handed it to me.
"Drink this before midnight, and don't leave your room tonight."
"Why?"
He smiled again, but this time it was colder. "Because if you do, you might not survive what's coming."
I didn't drink the silver bottle, not because I forgot or not because I didn't want to. I just couldn't bring myself to trust a man who sniffed my neck like a dog and told me I "smelled different." What the hell did that even mean?
Instead, I sat on the velvet bed in the strange, cold room they locked me in and stared at it. The bottle looked expensive. Silver, with a strange insignia on the side... a moon wrapped in thorns.
The clock ticked toward midnight and I thought about my mother. I thought about how she didn't even walk me to the gate.
Then I thought about Matteo Del Piero.. the man who claimed I belonged to him. His voice had been calm, controlled, but beneath it… something primal vibrated. Something that stirred parts of me I wasn't ready to name.
My fingers brushed my neck where he'd sniffed me, and it burned like something invisible was crawling just under my skin. The wind outside howled like something wild had been set loose. The windows rattled in their frames. I wrapped my arms around myself and backed against the headboard, heart racing.
And then I heard it, a low growl... deep, guttural.. just outside my door and I jumped.
Someone..or something—was pacing outside the hallway. I could hear claws clicking softly against the tiles. Click... Click... Click. I froze, don't open it, I told myself.
But something in me… wanted to, I crept to the door and pressed my ear against it. The growling stopped, and then a whisper, rough and animalistic.
"Mine."
I gasped and stumbled backward, the doorknob twisted then stopped. Something sniffed the door, then silence, a footsteps retreating.
The next morning, I woke up with a headache and scratches on the inside of my thighs.
I hadn't left the bed, and I hadn't let anyone in. So where the hell did the marks come from?
I pulled the blanket tighter around me and slid to the edge of the bed. My body ached in places I couldn't explain. My thighs, my hips, even the soft spot under my ribs.
Had I been dreaming? I washed up quickly, ignoring the tiny crescent-shaped bite mark near my hip bone. It looked too real and too fresh, but I said nothing.
Breakfast was served in a room big enough to fit ten of my old apartments. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. A long table dressed in gold-trimmed china.
Matteo stood at the far end, staring out the tall windows with his hands behind his back. The early morning light caught the edge of his jaw, sharp and defined. He turned slowly when he heard my footsteps.
"You didn't drink it."
It wasn't a question.
"No," I answered, lifting my chin. "I don't drink mystery potions from men I just met."
He stared at me for a long moment. Then he moved toward me... slow, controlled, like a predator circling.
"You heard them last night, didn't you?"
I swallowed. "Heard what?"
His eyes narrowed. "You're lying."
"I..."
He closed the distance between us and brushed his fingers lightly across my collarbone. My skin lit up under his touch.
"You were marked last night, weren't you?"
I froze. "How do you know that?"
He leaned in close, his lips barely grazing the shell of my ear.
"Because I smell him on you."