Chapter 1
The rusty iron gate had practically screamed when Lily pushed it open, but apparently, that hadn’t been enough of a warning sign for them to turn around.
Now, they were standing in the dim, echoing foyer of a massive, shadowed bungalow. It was old, with dust dancing in the beams of their phone flashlights and sheets covering the furniture like cheap ghosts, but it wasn’t completely ruined. It just felt like a place frozen in time.
Pia gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her heart was beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs, but she refused to let her voice shake. “So, just to clarify your definition of ‘exploring,’ we are officially breaking and entering. On a Tuesday.”
“It’s not breaking if the gate was already unlocked,” Lily whispered back, though she was looking around with wide, paranoid eyes. “It’s called an unguided architectural tour. Besides, look at this place! It’s definitely a mafia house. Look at the dramatic staircase. You don’t build a staircase like that unless you plan on walking down it slowly while wearing a velvet robe and holding a cigar.”
“Or unless you have a lot of money and zero taste,” Pia muttered, her voice laced with dry humor to mask the sheer panic bubbling up in her throat. “Seriously, Lily, if we get arrested, I’m telling the cops I was kidnapped.”
“Please, you came for the thrill. Admit it.” Lily walked toward a long hallway, her sneakers clicking softly against the marble floor.
Pia followed close behind, her eyes darting to every dark corner. Every shadow looked like a hitman. Every creak of the house made her want to jump out of her skin. To keep from losing her mind, she kept the banter going. “The only thrill I want right now is a warm bed and a large pizza. If a ghost or a gangster pops out of that corner, I am using you as a human shield.”
“Fair enough. But look at this!”
Lily stopped in front of a wide gallery wall. It was lined with heavy, ornate frames, untouched by the dust sheets. Pia shined her flashlight over them, and both girls let out a nervous, stifled laugh.
The photos were an absurd mix of terrifying and hilarious. In one, a stern-looking, older man with a thick mustache was staring dead into the camera, holding a massive, terrifyingly large dog.
“Oh my god,” Lily giggled, her voice high-pitched with nervous adrenaline. “Why does the dog look more cheerful than the man? The dog looks like he’s about to ask for a belly rub, and the man looks like he wants to eat my soul.”
“Look at this one,” Pia whispered, pointing her light to a family portrait next to it. In the center stood a younger guy—probably in his late teens or early twenties at the time—with dark, intense eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a scowl so deep it looked physically painful. “Who takes a family photo looking like they’re planning the demise of the entire universe? Smile a little, buddy. It kills the vibe.”
“Right?” Lily laughed, leaning in. “He looks like he just found out his favorite restaurant stopped serving breakfast at ten-thirty. Who even is that?”
“No idea, but he seriously needs a hobby,” Pia joked, though her eyes lingered on the dark-haired guy’s piercing gaze in the photo. There was something genuinely intimidating about him, even behind glass. She forced a chuckle to shake off the sudden chill in her spine. “Alright, we saw the scary photos. We laughed at the grumpy heir. Can we please go before we end up on a missing persons poster?”
“Yeah,” Lily admitted, her laugh fading into a tense breath as she looked around the dark hallway. “Okay, the adrenaline rush is wearing off, and now I’m just genuinely terrified. Let’s get out of here.”
They turned back toward the main foyer, their paces quickening. But as they reached the threshold of the front door, the heavy wood suddenly groaned.
Pia froze. Lily instantly gripped Pia’s arm so hard it pinched.
The front door, which they had left cracked open, was now wide open. The front door hadn’t just opened on its own.
As Pia and Lily cautiously stepped out of the dark foyer and onto the wide, covered porch, the moonlight hit the floorboards—and Pia’s breath caught completely in her throat. Right there, staining the vintage outdoor rug, was a thick, dark puddle. It wasn’t old dust or dried rust. It was fresh, glossy, and visibly oozing across the fabric.
Blood.
The nervous, laughing energy that had kept them going instantly evaporated, leaving behind a cold, paralyzing terror. Before either of them could even scream, the heavy, rhythmic thud of solid leather boots echoed from the side of the wrap-around porch, coming straight toward them.
“Pia—” Lily’s voice hitched, a sound of pure panic.
“Run,” Pia tried to whisper, but the word barely left her throat before Lily entirely lost her nerve. Driven by blind, unthinking survival instinct, Lily completely lost her mind. She bolted down the porch steps, a sob escaping her throat as she vanished into the dark driveway, leaving Pia frozen in the sudden silence.
Pia gasped, forcing her frozen limbs to move, but she was a second too late.
BANG.
The heavy mahogany front door slammed shut behind her with a force that rattled her teeth. The sudden, violent noise cut off the open air, trapping her on the porch. The sudden, violent noise cut off her only retreat. Before she could even think of diving after Lily, Nikolai stepped into her path, his massive frame completely cutting off the porch stairs and trapping her against the solid wood of the door.
Pia’s heart violently slammed against her ribs. Slowly, trembling from head to toe, she turned around.
Standing right behind her, blocking her only escape, was a tall, imposing figure. He wore a dark, perfectly tailored coat that made his broad shoulders look massive against the night. The moonlight caught the sharp, dangerous angles of his face—it was the guy from the photo inside, but older, harsher, and infinitely more terrifying. Nikolai Orlov.
Pia was completely, utterly terrified. Her chest heaved as she stared up at him, her wide, expressive eyes practically pleading for her life, her hands trembling as she instinctively pressed herself back against the door. She braced herself for whatever ruthless thing a mafia heir was supposed to do to a trespasser.
But Nikolai didn’t move.
The moment his dark, intense eyes locked onto Pia’s face, he froze completely. The cold, calculating aura around him vanished, replaced by a sudden, stunned stillness. For a solid thirty seconds, the entire world seemed to stop. Nikolai just stared at her, unblinking, utterly captivated.
Inside his mind, the ruthless thoughts of his chaotic life completely silenced. A single word began to echo, repeating like a mantra against his will: Angel. Angel. Angel.
Looking down at her, with her wide eyes and the moonlight catching her features, she didn’t look like an intruder or a threat. To a man who lived entirely in the dark, she looked like something completely ethereal, a piece of heaven dropped right onto his blood-stained porch. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Nikolai blinked, the ethereal spell finally snapping as he forced his ruthless composure back into place. His jaw tightened, and when he spoke, his voice was smooth, low, and terrifyingly cold.
“What are you doing here?”
The sound of his voice seemed to break the paralysis holding Pia’s limbs. She instinctively took a sharp step back, her spine hitting the cold wood of the slammed door. Panic surged through her like an electric shock. Her eyes darted from his intense gaze down to the fresh blood oozing on the rug, and then right back to his face.
“I—I didn’t see anything,” she stammered, her voice high and breathless with pure desperation. She held her hands up in front of her, trembling violently. “Let me go, please. I swear I didn’t see a thing. I just... please, just let me leave.”
She was practically begging, her chest heaving as she tried to find a way out, completely terrified of the man standing in front of her.
Nikolai took a slow, deliberate step forward, crowding her space. He was so tall he completely blocked out the moonlight, casting a heavy shadow over her. His dark eyes narrowed, studying the sheer panic radiating from her.
Pia’s mind was spinning at a million miles an hour, fueled by pure, unadulterated terror. In her frantic state, her brain completely misfired. Looking up at his sharp cheekbones and intense scowl up close, a horrible realization hit her: He heard us. She thought he had been inside the whole time, listening to them make fun of the family portraits. Her brain scrambled for anything to appease him, completely short-circuiting under his intense gaze. Instead of begging for her life, the absolute worst possible thought slipped right past her lips.
“U-you...” she stammered, her voice cracking as she pressed herself as flat against the door as humanly possible. “Photo guy... I-I’m sorry.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them, her desperate apology hanging in the tense, chilly air between them.
Nikolai stopped dead in his tracks. For a fraction of a second, his cold, lethal mask cracked, completely derailed by her words.
He had been prepared for a lot of things tonight—spies, rival hitmen, terrified screams, or desperate begging. He was completely prepared to play the role of the terrifying mafia boss. But being called “photo guy” by a girl who was currently shaking like a leaf while standing next to a puddle of fresh blood? That was a first.
A slow, dangerous curiosity sparked in his dark eyes. The sheer absurdity of her comment caught him so off guard that the tension in his broad shoulders eased just a fraction. He tilted his head, looking down at her trembling form as a sharp, highly amused smirk slowly tugged at the corner of his lips.
Nobody ever insulted him. Nobody even looked him directly in the eyes. And yet, here she was, accidentally revealing that she’d been roasting his family photos.
He leaned in a little closer, intentionally using his massive height to keep her off balance, though his voice lost a bit of its icy edge, replaced by a low, mocking drawl.
“Photo guy?” Nikolai repeated, the words sounding heavy and dark coming from him. “Is that what you call the man who currently holds your life in his hands?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze locking onto her wide, panicked eyes. “I’m dying to know, angel. What exactly did you say about my portrait that has you apologizing while you’re trespassing on my property?”
