Rain drummed against the shattered glass of the factory’s broken windows, the sound echoing in the hollow space like a heartbeat.

Lysander Vale stood motionless, his pistol aimed at the woman crumpled on the floor. The silver-haired mafia queen — Valeria D’Amato. For years, her name had been poison in their mouths, the ghost behind every ruined deal and every grave they dug.

Aiden moved closer, his boots clicking against the concrete, gun cocked and ready. “So this is how the great Valeria ends,” he said softly, crouching beside her.

Valeria tried to speak but blood dripped from her lips instead. Her dark sweater was soaked, her breathing shallow, yet her eyes still burned with defiance — that same fire that had haunted their dreams since the night their parents died.

But before he could pull the trigger, something small and metallic clattered across the floor. A chain had snapped — a necklace had fallen from Valeria’s neck. A small, shimmering stone rolled to a stop between them, glowing faintly even in the dark.

Lysander frowned. “What the hell is that?”

Valeria’s eyes widened in panic. “Don’t touch it.”

Aiden glanced at his brother, a hint of mockery in his grin. “What, afraid it’ll bite?” He bent down, picking it up between his gloved fingers. The moment he touched it, the glow intensified — pulsing, alive, like it had a heartbeat of its own.

“Aiden—” Lysander warned, but curiosity got the better of him. He reached out, letting his fingers brush the stone.

And then the world tilted.

A blinding light erupted, swallowing the room in silver and white. For a heartbeat, there was no sound, no gravity — only warmth. A strange, overwhelming warmth that pierced through the brothers’ chests like a flood of sunlight breaking through cold iron.

When the light faded, Aiden staggered back, blinking rapidly. Lysander’s pistol hung loosely in his grip. They both stared down at Valeria — but something was wrong.

The hatred was gone.

Instead, a strange ache bloomed inside them. A pull. Her face — pale, framed by silver hair and blood — wasn’t the face of an enemy anymore. It was… beautiful.

Lysander couldn’t look away. Every movement she made seemed slow, fragile, precious. “What… what just happened?”

Valeria pressed a trembling hand to her wound, watching them with equal parts pain and horror. “You idiots…” she whispered. “You touched it. The Stone of Eros. It was sealed for a reason.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Aiden knelt beside her, his voice suddenly soft, almost pleading. “You’re bleeding too much. Stay still.” He tore a strip of cloth from his jacket and pressed it against her wound, his hands shaking.

Lysander crouched too, lowering his gun completely. “We need to get her to a doctor,” he said quietly, his mind spinning. It made no sense. He wanted to kill her — moments ago he had planned to kill her — and now the thought made his stomach twist.

Valeria looked between them, disbelief in her eyes. “You should still hate me.”

Aiden met her gaze, something desperate and confused flickering behind his dark eyes. “I don’t even know what I feel right now… I just know I can’t watch you die.”

Lysander reached for the stone again — but his hand trembled. It slipped from his grasp, hit the floor, and cracked. The glow vanished instantly, plunging the factory back into cold, lifeless shadow.

For a long moment, none of them spoke. Only the rain filled the silence.

Aiden swallowed hard, still pressing the cloth to her side. “It’s gone. The light. But… it didn’t change anything.” His eyes met Valeria’s, almost pleading. “Why do I still—”

Lysander cut him off, voice tight with disbelief. “Still feel it?” He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time — not a rival, not an enemy, but a woman. “So do I.”

Valeria’s breath caught, confusion mirroring theirs. “That’s not… possible.”

Aiden laughed softly, bitterly. “Welcome to our nightmare.”

She tried to push them away, but neither moved. Two men who had sworn to end her life now knelt beside her, protecting her, shielding her from the cold.