Morning came late to the De Luca mansion, as if the sun itself was hesitant to touch what had happened the night before.
Zara woke to a knock.
Not loud.
Not urgent.
Just deliberate.
The kind of knock someone used when they already knew you were awake.
"Come in," she said softly.
The door opened, but it wasn't Lorenzo.
It was Ricco.
His scar looked sharper in the daylight. His eyes, darker than usual.
"Boss wants you in the south wing," Ricco said.
Zara blinked. "Is he okay?"
Ricco hesitated ,a crack in his stoic façade. "He will be."
She didn't like that answer.
"What happened?" she pressed.
Ricco avoided her eyes. "Just… don't lie to him. He can smell it."
Zara's heart tightened. "Is he angry?"
"No," Ricco said. "Worse."
He stepped aside so she could walk past him.
"He's quiet."
---
The South Wing
Zara had never been here.
The hallways felt different , colder, untouched, as if the mansion held its breath here. The guards stationed outside the double doors stepped away when they saw Ricco, but their eyes lingered on her.
Ricco pushed the doors open.
Zara stepped inside.
Lorenzo stood with his back to her, staring at a wall of old framed photographs black and white, sepia, memories preserved like evidence.
His shirt sleeves were rolled, the newly bandaged wound stark against his skin.
He didn't turn. "Close the door."
She did.
The silence between them stretched, sharp enough to cut.
"Zara," he said slowly, "did you go anywhere last night besides the balcony?"
"No."
Her voice didn't waver -- not yet.
"Did you see anyone you didn't recognize?"
"No."
Another silence.
Then, more quietly --
"Did you hear anything unusual? Any footsteps, doors, voices?"
Zara frowned. "Lorenzo, what's going on?"
He finally turned.
And she froze.
Not because he looked angry.
But because he didn't look like anything.
His face was made of stone.
"Someone entered the east wing basement," he said. "A place I don't let anyone touch. Not even my men."
Zara's skin prickled. "Who?"
Lorenzo's jaw clenched. "Lucian."
Her heart dropped.
"Did he hurt anyone?"
"One guard. He'll live."
Zara swallowed. "What was in that basement?"
Lorenzo looked at her really looked as if weighing how much she could take.
Or how much she could break.
"Ghosts," he said. "Mine."
She stepped closer. "Lorenzo—"
"No."
His voice was sharp enough to halt her.
"You—you don't get to comfort me about this."
She stopped.
Lorenzo ran a hand through his hair — a rare, uncalculated gesture.
"He knows where I keep the things I don't want touched," he said. "He's trying to make me slip. Trying to make me choose between the past and…"
He hesitated.
"…the present."
Zara felt the weight of what he didn't say.
You.
"Do you think he found anything important?" she asked.
Lorenzo laughed once — hollow.
"If he did, I'll know soon."
"How?"
He stepped toward her.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
"Because he'll hurt what's closest to the truth."
Zara's breath caught. "You think he'll come for me."
Lorenzo didn't blink. "He already is."
She felt cold all over. "Then why am I here? Why did Ricco bring me—"
"Because I need to ask you something," Lorenzo said quietly.
His eyes softened for a fraction of a second before hardening again.
"Is there anything — anything at all — that you haven't told me? Something about why Lucian keeps watching you?"
Zara opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Not because she had a secret.
But because she suddenly realized something chilling:
Lucian had looked at her the very first day with recognition
—not curiosity
—not interest
—but recognition.
She hadn't understood it then.
She didn't understand it now.
But she felt it.
"Zara?" Lorenzo's voice dropped. "If he knows something about you that I don't—"
"He doesn't," she whispered, but her pulse betrayed her.
Lorenzo noticed.
He always noticed.
He stepped closer and lifted her chin gently, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Don't lie to me," he said. Not a threat. A plea.
"I'm not lying," she whispered. "I just… don't understand him."
Lorenzo studied her the tremor in her voice, the confusion she couldn't hide.
He believed her.
But that didn't calm him.
"Zara," he said slowly, "I need you to stay close to me today."
She swallowed. "Close how?"
He brushed a thumb against her jaw, an intimate, possessive stroke he probably didn't mean to make.
"Close enough that if he tries to touch you," he murmured, "I can break his hands before he finishes the thought."
Her breath hitched.
"Lorenzo.."
He stepped back abruptly, the softness slamming shut like a door.
"You'll stay in my sight," he said. "Mia will be with you when I can't."
"And if I say no?" Zara challenged.
He looked at her like the answer wasn't up for negotiation.
"Then I'll carry you there myself."
---
Later
Mia led Zara through the mansion's lower floors, sensing the tension before Zara spoke.
"What's wrong?" Mia asked.
"He thinks Lucian is coming for me."
Mia stopped walking. "He's not wrong."
Zara's stomach twisted. "You knew?"
"I knew Lucian doesn't hunt without a reason."
Mia's expression darkened.
"And he always chooses the thing that rattles Lorenzo the most."
"Which is me."
"Which is terrifying," Mia corrected.
They walked in silence for a moment.
Then Mia said quietly, "Zara… whatever is in that basement? I pray you never see it."
Zara swallowed. "Why?"
"Because the ghosts down there aren't dead," Mia said. "They're alive in him."
---
Evening
The storm returned before sunset. Wind slammed against the windows, rattling the glass.
Zara stood in the doorway of Lorenzo's office as he spoke with his men, sharp commands cutting through the crackling thunder.
He looked different today.
Harder.
Colder.
As if last night had never happened.
But when he finally noticed her, his voice faltered.
Just for a second.
He waved Ricco off and walked toward her.
"You stayed where I asked," he said.
She nodded. "I'm not stupid."
"Good."
He hesitated.
"I can't lose you."
"You haven't had me," she whispered back, surprising both of them.
Lorenzo swallowed.
Then, softer than the storm outside:
"Haven't I?"
Before either of them could speak again....
A guard burst into the room.
"Boss," he said breathlessly, "the cameras in the south corridor just went dark."
Lorenzo's body went still.
Zara felt her heartbeat in her throat.
"Lucian?" Ricco asked from behind them.
"No," Lorenzo said.
"Someone worse."
---
In the basement
A light flickered.
Shadows moved.
And a voice , feminine this time , whispered into the dark:
"Lorenzo never learned to bury his past properly."
A hand traced the edge of an old photograph ,one Zara had never seen.
"And neither, it seems… has she."
Footsteps echoed.
Calm.
Patient.
Predatory.
"Let's see how much the girl knows."