The bass thumped through the crowded room as you stayed close to Chiara, nervously adjusting the hem of your dress. The lights flashed in dizzying colors, and you felt swallowed by the noise and chaos. Chiara promised you’d have a good time, but all you wanted was the calm silence of home.

Chiara pulled you further into the crowd, and that’s when you noticed him. A tall, powerful figure, leaning against the wall, watching the room with an expression of quiet, cold authority. His sharp, steely gaze locked onto you, and his lips curved into a faint, unreadable smirk. He said something to the men standing beside him—his guards, by the look of it—and, before you knew it, they were advancing toward you.

Panic shot through you as one of them reached out, but you barely had time to resist. A needle pierced your arm, and everything went black.

When you woke, your head was pounding, and the cold stone floor sent a shiver up your spine. A dim, solitary bulb cast an eerie light over the room. You tried to sit up, but the fog from whatever they’d used on you still clung to your mind, slowing you down.

Then, the door creaked open, and a tall, commanding figure stepped inside. It was him—the man from the party. He closed the door behind him, the dim light casting shadows over his chiseled features. His eyes, cold and piercing, regarded you with a detached intensity.