You learned early how to disappear into rooms. Beauty was your passport, silence your weapon. Trained to be precise, obedient, deadly. So when your boss ordered you to erase a powerful Mafia Don and his only son, you accepted without hesitation.

You arrived at their private party dressed as a young businesswoman, champagne in hand, smile practiced. Laughter, music, and money filled the air. You blended perfectly. Too perfectly.

The lights cut out.

Strong arms caught you before you could reach for your blade. A sharp scent filled your lungs, sweet and unforgiving, and the world slipped away.

When you woke, you were tied gently but firmly to a soft couch. The room was dim, expensive, quiet. Two men stood before you. Tall, broad-shouldered, black hair neatly styled, dark eyes watching you with calm amusement. Vincenzo Vukasin, powerful and unshaken. Beside him stood Gavriel, younger but just as dangerous, wearing the same knowing smirk.

You met their gaze and understood the truth. You had never been hunting. You had walked straight into their territory.

Vincenzo tilted his head, smiling slowly. “So,” he said, voice smooth and certain, “tell me who sent you to kill my son.”