Prologue 1

𝙨𝙖𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙝 𝙠𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙜 𝙡𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙣

𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙦 𝙠𝙖𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙯 𝙠𝙮𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞 .

𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙠𝙖𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙟𝙖𝙖𝙣 𝙙𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙣

𝙠𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙯 𝙠𝙮𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞 .

𝙨𝙖𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙝 𝙠𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙜 𝙡𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙣

𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙦 𝙠𝙖𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙯 𝙠𝙮𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞 .

Vyan Moretti.

The man the underworld whispered like a curse. A criminal empire built in shadows, his real face never seen.

Tonight's orders were clear- locate him, capture him quietly, deliver him or eliminate him if he proved too difficult.

But the rooftop felt wrong. It was too quiet. The air too clean, laced with the metallic tang of anticipation.

Her hand drifted instinctively toward the gun beneath her coat, fingers curling around the grip.

That was when the knife came.

SLASH

It sliced through the rain with a vicious whistle, aimed straight for her throat.

It was aimed not to kill, but to graze, to warn, to 'invite'.

Alira twisted aside. The blade kissed her shoulder, parting fabric and skin in a shallow, burning line that sent a forbidden shiver through her.

It buried itself in the metal door behind her with a sharp clang, vibrating like a plucked string.

She turned slowly toward the thrower.

He stood by the railing as if he had been waiting all along, a silhouette carved from the storm.

Those eyes watched her with unnerving calm, a predator sizing up his equal.

Neither spoke.

Rain hammered between them, a rhythmic pulse that matched the blood rushing in her veins.

Alira reached back, yanked the knife free -his knife, still warm from his grip..and flipped it toward him in a single fluid motion.

He caught it mid-spin, fingers closing around the hilt before the point could kiss his skin. He held it up, tilting the blade to catch the faint city glow, inspecting it like a lover's gift.

"Careful, sweetheart," he said, voice low and amused, roughened by the rain. "That could have hurt someone."

Her gun was already up, steady towards his chest.

"You should worry about yourself."

He glanced at the barrel, then back to her eyes. The faintest crinkle of amusement touched the corners."You're too pretty to be an assassin."

The shot cracked instantly, a warning, not a kill shot, the bullet whizzing past his ear to shatter the railing.

"You're too brave for someone who will be a dead body after a few seconds."

He tilted his head, the knife still loose in his grip. "Tch tch tch. Impatient. And here I thought we'd have a slow dance first." The sarcastic comment slipped out.

"You talk too much."

Before she could fire again, he lunged with calculated grace, closing the distance like he owned it.

His hand struck her wrist, forcing the gun aside. It skidded across the slick concrete.

"You know," he said against the strain, breath warm through his mask, ghosting over her exposed neck, "most people introduce themselves before they try to carve their initials into me."

She twisted, driving the knife upward toward his throat , close enough that the edge nicked the underside of his jaw, a bead of blood welling.

His eyes darkened, not with pain, but with something else.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into it, the flat of the blade pressing against his pulse point as his free hand slid to her waist, fingers digging in just enough to hold, to claim the moment.

"I don't introduce myself to soon-to-be corpses." Her voice was steady, but her body betrayed her.

His fingers tightened on her wrist, stopping the edge inches from slicing deeper, but not releasing her.

"Confident," he murmured, voice dropping to that vibrated whisper through their locked bodies. "I like that. Show me how deep you want to go, Ms.Shadow. Make it sting."

Her breath hitched, a traitorous spark igniting low in her belly. She hated it, she hated that feeling.

She pressed the blade harder, watching his eyes flutter half-shut, a low hum escaping his throat that sounded less like pain and more like an invitation.

"Kinky bastard." But she wasn't one to be distracted. Her knee snapped toward his groin.

He twisted just enough to take the blow on his thigh, grunting , a sound that twisted into a chuckle.

"Fuck, woman...my future heirs thank you for the mercy. But if you're aiming to unman me, use the knife. It's the more dignified way."

She ripped free, slashing again.

The blade parted his coat fully, carving a deliberate path down his chest , the top of the knife meeting the ridges of his abs.

Blood traced the cut, mixing with rain, and he inhaled sharply, his free hand snapping out to capture her blade hand again.

He didn't disarm her. He pressed her palm forward, forcing the knife to hover at his sternum, the point dimpling the skin without breaking it fully. Their faces inches apart, masks slick with water.

"Now it's personal," he said, but his voice was thicker, laced with the edge of desire.

His other hand trailed up her arm, gloved fingers ghosting over the graze on her shoulder from his earlier throw, the one he'd left as his mark.

He pressed there, thumb circling the shallow wound, smearing the warmth of her own blood like a brand. "Feel that? That's me on you. Tit for tat."

Her counter was instinctive: she twisted, forcing his hand back until her knife pressed against the inside of his thigh, perilously close to the juncture where his upper body met the lower.

"Careful," she echoed his earlier words, voice husky now, laced with the same dark amusement. "That could hurt someone."

His laugh was low. He grabbed her arm and shoved her back against the stairwell wall, but she dragged him with her.

Her spine hit concrete with a thud, his body pinning hers.

Before he could press the advantage, she drove an elbow into his jaw, light enough to sting, hard enough to remind him she wasn't prey.

"Too sloppy." She smirked.

He staggered half a step, but his grip on her wrist tightened, pulling her knife arm down to rest the flat of the blade against her own throat.

The cool steel vibrated with her pulse as he leaned in, lips brushing the edge of her mask.

"Sloppy?" He wiped rain from his brow using his thumb, his other hand sliding the knife lower, over her jaw, down her neck, pausing at the hollow of her throat where her breath caught audibly.

"No...I'm Impressed. You're making me want to play dirty, bella. Drag this edge slow...see how long you hold that pretty composure before you beg to be free from me."

[Italian-Beautiful]

"Impressed?" she countered, voice challenging. "Prove it. Cut deeper. Or are you all talk and no bite?"

He obliged. The knife dipped, slicing a thin path along her collarbone.

His grey eyes devoured the sight, darkening as her eyes bore into his.

But he pulled back at the last second, flipping the blade to press the hilt against her masked lips instead, a blunt, teasing pressure that demanded she taste the danger.

She lunged snatching the knife, breaking the stalemate.

He caught her ankle mid-kick, yanking her off balance.

She went down hard, but rolled with it, snatching her dropped gun yet even as she rose, barrel aimed at his heart, the knife stayed in her other hand, held low and ready, an extension of her will.

"Fucking faceless bastard," she hissed.

"I've been called worse." His eyes gleamed, dropping to the blade in her hand, then back up. "Most of them beg first. 'Please', 'Vyan'....'more'." He mimicked.

"But all they get is brutal....death."

Her finger tightened on the trigger, but her other hand flexed around the knife, "You'll not live long enough to tell those stories."

He laughed and stepping closer despite the gun. "You're funny too. And filthy. I can see it in your eyes..the way you want to pin me down, make me bleed just to watch me break."

"Enjoy your last moments." She murmured and clicked the button at the edge of her sleeves.

Sirens wailed faintly far below.

His gaze flicked to the edge, then back, heat uncoiling in the grey eyes. "You brought friends?How Sweet. But it's my time to go home...cara mia."

[Italian - My love]

"You're not leaving."

He stepped closer. One deliberate step. Then another, until the gun pressed into his chest.

"Stop," she warned.

"Non avrei mai pensato che la mia morte potesse sembrare così bella..." he murmured in Italian, the words rolling slow and intimate.

[Never thought my death would look so beautiful......]

After a pause."La mia rovina."

[Italian - My ruin]

She frowned. "What did you say?"

"Smart women don't waste time asking questions."

His hand captured hers around the gun, easing it aside just enough.

"They take what they want. So take it. Press harder. Make me yours before I make you mine."

"You should feel lucky that they want you alive....or you would have been 6 feet under."

"Then pull the trigger." He leaned in until his mouth hovered a breath from hers.

"Or find another way to shut me up. Use the knife. Bind me with it. I won't stop you."

Her finger flexed on the trigger.

But she didn't fire.

They wanted him alive. And something darker whispered that she wanted him ruined with the knife a lover's tool in the dark.

His eyes softened with wicked amusement, but his body stayed taut, ready for her command. "See you soon, bella."

Before she could react or seize him ,he stepped back onto the railing. Twenty floors of void yawned behind him, but even then, he flipped his knife that he somehow without knowing slipped it into his hand from hers.

"Don't," she said, voice tighter than intended, hand shooting out to claim the hilt mid-air as he flipped it towards her.

He tilted his head, rain streaming over him like liquid shadow. "Try not to miss me too much while I'm gone. Next time, we finish this properly....."

And then.....

BOOM!!!

My first dark romance book, wanted to write dark romance for such a long time and finally it's hereeee. Hehe

Hope you guyzzz liked it 🥹

I was contemplating about the prologue between the enemies-kinda one or the lovers/steamy one.

I am bad at making decisions so you guyzz are gonna get two prologue's

BAHAHAHAHA. Bieeeeee 🧚🏻‍♀️

How was the prologue ?

You will get a second prologue too !!!!

Okiee bieeeeee keetabi kido👀