Prologue
Dedication
In memory of Jose Martins, to the one to whom I owe everything.
I dedicate this work to my grandfather, Jose, who truly saw the writer in me and never let me give up.
Without your encouragement, this novel would never have existed.
With all my love, thank you.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
❛For every beast cloaked in lambskin, waiting in silence—this is your moment. Reveal yourself as the predator.❜
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
ㅤ
ㅤ MAËLLE
ㅤ There is a persistent legend of a hellhound that began in Aracipirã, a forgotten Brazilian city hidden deep within the mountain range, back in the nineteenth century. It is said, “If you meet the black dog once, it shall be for joy; if twice, it shall be for sorrow; and the third time shall bring death.”
ㅤ My mother’s last words to me, a few days before her brutal murder before my eyes, were, “Don’t trust Aleksei Belyakov.”
ㅤ Now I can see. Months have passed, and here I sit behind this luxurious desk in silence; I clearly see your half-dead figure on the office floor whenever I close my eyes. Never thought I would come to feel fear and a shiver of strangeness when I looked into the whitish eyes of the person I adored most in my futile existence. Those scenes from that day have tortured me all this time.
ㅤ The torrential rain lashing the windows is the only noise I’ve heard since I got home. I drag the crystal decanter to the rim of my glass, drizzling the shiny and caramel-colored cognac under the ice cubes. Only after returning the glass stopper and admiring my family’s coat of arms personalized there did I lean back in the comfortable leather armchair, letting out a long, tired sigh.
ㅤ The flash of lightning illuminates the four corners of the room. The sudden darkness, signaled by the lampshade’s yellow light going out, further emphasizing my loneliness. There’s no more light in this house.
ㅤ Bringing the glass to my lips, I appreciate the plum aroma and oak notes of the drink. Miss Lulu curled up between my legs, trembling like a pinscher; at that very moment, I knew it was him coming towards me.
ㅤ This presence... He is here!
ㅤ An agonizing pain seizes my chest. I do not know how to undo this massive power that he has over me and can make me falter. Even in the middle of this complete darkness, I can feel the crushing pressure of his honey-yellow eyes on my body. Burning on my skin.
ㅤ I swallow the cognac, savoring the light and spicy taste it leaves in my mouth. I am trying not to let him notice my trembling hands. He can’t know that it wasn’t by choice.
ㅤ I didn’t just want him here.
ㅤ I made it happen.
ㅤ “You’re late, my love.” I joke cheekily. I lean my elbow on the arm of the armchair and play with the ice in the glass. A brief flash brightens the room; it’s quick, but it’s enough for me to see the inert male silhouette next to me out of the corner of my eye.
ㅤ He doesn’t say a single word. As sneaky as a predator.
ㅤ That’s right up your street, Aleksei, you demon! I accuse in my thoughts.
ㅤ I’ve waited so long for this moment that I need a few seconds to remember what I rehearsed in my dreams. Not only that, but I try not to let it show that I am completely terrified, yet it is ridiculous how my heart is panic-stricken in my chest. Beating as if there were no tomorrow—or worse, as if it recognized the danger ahead.
ㅤ Taking my feet off the table that belonged to my late father’s, I put back on the floor the high-heeled shoes made of gold and studded with diamonds from the Arab brand Jada Dubai, which I chose especially for today. Having left the empty glass of cognac, I recompose my posture.
ㅤ I swore before St. Thomas Aquinas, and I will fulfill that promise. My husband’s punishment for all the suffering he caused me when he destroyed my world, even if it is the last thing I will do, and I won’t stop until I get what I want. Even if they’ve sent you here to stop me, I won’t fall without playing every card I have.
ㅤ There’s this throb beneath my ribs—not grief, not fear. It’s creeping in, quiet and ancient. I’m afraid I’m giving in to something older. Something burning.
ㅤ I whisper, “Now it’s just you and me,” as I land on your abdomen, the hand where my wedding ring is. A wicked ear-to-ear grin spreads across my face as soon as I feel the powerful odor of rust characteristic of fresh blood and cologne with essences of the forest that comes from it. “My dreaded Blackdog.”
ㅤ And it was this situation that made me realize. No matter how much I try to deny it, millennia can pass underneath us, and it won’t change the end of this. Our destinies, however harmful and shady we may be, It was written in the stars. This man was born so that I could break him into a thousand pieces, and I will not be satisfied until he’s on his knees at my feet.
ㅤ Or my name isn’t Maëlle de Rohan.
