Chapter 3 Chapter 3.

The gates of hell weren’t made of fire, they were black iron, adorned with golden serpents and cold, glinting security cameras. They loomed in front of Aria like a challenge, daring her to turn back. But she didn’t.

She stood tall in her simple black coat that seemed like it was shielding her from the world. The dark circles beneath her eyes hadn’t faded. Neither had the grief. Or the rage.

Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell. In a few seconds the gate opened, revealing a huge man in black with a stern look on his face. “You are?” He asked.

“Mr. Moretti's guest,” Aria replied.

With a careful scan through her with his eyes, he stepped aside, letting her in.

Aria stepped into a vast space and was surprised to see another gate just ahead. “Two mighty gates in one house? What the heck is he hiding?” She thought.

She made her way to the second gate and rang another doorbell. A guard stepped out, looking just like the first one.

“Name,” he said, tapping something on a digital tablet.

“Aria Kane.”

“You're not on the list. You didn't book an appointment,” he said.

“It's an emergency,” she replied but the man didn't budge.

“You can't go in, madam. You'll have to book an appointment and come back some other time,” he stated, turning to go back in.

“Please,” she quickly held on to his sleeve.  The guard turned, giving her a subtle glare.

Aria stepped back a little, recomposing herself. “I really need to see your boss. Please help me.”

The guard gazed at her intently for some seconds, then sighed. “Alright then.”

“Thank you,” she breathed in relief.

He led her into the compound that screamed danger in every detail. Just its view sent shivers.

They reached the doors to the mansion where two guards stood at each sides. Exchanging a few words with them, he turned to Aria. “Choose your words and actions wisely, he doesn't like surprises,” the guard added.

The words settled heavily in her mind. She wanted to ask questions, but he didn't give her the chance to, he had walked away already, returning to his duty post.

She looked at the guards at the doors, they looked scary enough to make anyone crumble under their gaze, but they had no effect on Aria. She was already in crumbles.

They led her through winding marble hallways, past glittering chandeliers and cold statues that seemed to watch her every step. Opulence and danger hung in the air like perfume. This was no home. It was a lair.

The doors to his office opened with a soft click.

Lucien Moretti stood by the window, back to her, the light casting his tall frame in silhouette. He was dressed in black slacks and a grey shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing the ink curled around his forearms—snakes, daggers, and Latin scripture.

He didn’t turn around. “Who are you?” His deep voice rang in the room—icy and authoritative.

“Is this how you greet all your guests?” Aria spoke confidently.

Struck by the familiar voice, Lucien turned and was met with the girl who stole his heart years ago and returned it in pieces. "Well look who's here," he smirked.

Aria felt a rush of conflicting emotions at the sight of him. Lucien had changed, yet remained the same in all the ways that mattered. The sharp angles of his face, the intensity of his deep blue eyes, strong jawline and sharp nose that always gave him a rugged yet refined look. His dark hair was perfectly styled, framing his face with a hint of sophistication. Despite his intimidating presence, he looked captivating, stirring a whirlwind of memories she'd carefully tried to bury.

“Funny how time doesn’t seem to affect you,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor of her heart. “Still the same charming criminal, I see.”

He stepped away from the window, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded her with bemusement. “And you still have a knack for dramatic entrances. What brings you to my lair, Aria? I thought we had closed that chapter.”

His last statement stirred memories of the last moment they shared before this. It had been the painful moment she had chosen to end their relationship—a decision that still stung.

She set aside the recollection, forcing herself to focus. “I need your help.”

“Grief looks good on you,” he said softly, his tone almost teasing. “But desperation? That’s a different kind of beautiful. Never thought I'd see this side of you.”

She chose to ignore his words, pushing aside the sting of bitterness they evoked. “Enough with the pleasantries, Lucien. I need your help,” she repeated, her voice firm and unwavering. “I want justice.”

Lucien stepped closer, his presence magnetic yet unsettling. “No,” he corrected, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You want blood.”

Aria lifted her chin defiantly. “And you’re the only man in this city capable of delivering it.”

His smirk widened, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Careful, beauty. Flattery is the currency of liars. What are you really offering me?”

She heaved a sigh. She already knew it'd come to this. He never involved in anything he'd never gain from. He was clearly the master of deals.

“I have nothing to offer you,” she answered.

“Then I suppose we have no business together,” he said, turning away from her.

“Can’t you just help me?” Aria’s tone shifted, desperation creeping in.

He faced her again. “Why should I, after your betrayal back then?” he shot back, his gaze piercing.

“We weren’t compatible," she replied, her voice steady despite the turbulence within her.

“I asked you before, and I'm asking you again—why didn’t you think about our compatibility before stealing my heart away?” His eyes flashed, laden with unresolved emotions.

“Are you going to help me or not?” she pressed, her patience wearing thin.

“No,” he answered, his finality echoing in the room.

The weight of his response hung heavy in the air, wrapping around Aria like chains she couldn’t shake off. The pain of their history simmered just beneath the surface—the years of confusion, heartache, and longing clashed with the urgency of her present.

“Fine...” Her voice faltered, barely audible. “I understand.”

Casting one last glance at him, she turned toward the door. Just as her hand brushed against the handle, Lucien’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Wait.”

She hesitated, hope igniting at the possibility. “What?”

“I’ll help you,” he said, and relief flooded through her. But his next statement sent a shiver down her spine, pulling the ground from beneath her feet.

“But only on one condition... henceforth you're mine.”

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