Chapter 1: The debt in her name
🔥 Prologue – The Mark of the Devil
Blood splattered across the marble floor.
Isabella Moreau’s hands trembled as she backed away from the lifeless body on the ground. His eyes—cold, empty—still stared at her. The gun in her hand was shaking. She had never touched one before tonight.
And she had never killed.
But then again… she had never been hunted by him.
The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the vast estate.
He was coming.
Matteo Romano.
The name whispered fear into the bones of every man in Italy. The king of the Romano syndicate. Cold. Unforgiving. A man made of iron and flame. And tonight, she had crossed his bloodline.
The double doors creaked open.
He stood there, drenched in shadow, his black coat flowing like a reaper’s robe, blood on his knuckles and death in his eyes.
And when their eyes met, something burned between them—something neither of them could name.
She had just murdered his man.
And instead of shooting her on sight, he said one word:
“Run.”
Chapter 1 – The Debt in Her Name
Two weeks,
That’s how long she’d been on borrowed time.
Isabella Moreau adjusted the straps of her silk dress and kept her head high as she walked into the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the crowd buzzed with the kind of laughter that always meant power was shifting hands behind closed doors.
She was here on behalf of her father. A favor. A distraction. A message.
But none of it mattered.
Because he was here.
She couldn’t see him. Not yet. But she felt it. The prickle at the back of her neck. The static beneath her skin. The unbearable weight of being watched.
Matteo Romano.
She hadn’t seen him since the night she killed his man. Since her life had become a countdown clock ticking in blood.
He hadn't come for revenge.
No. Not yet.
He was circling her. Watching her.
Waiting.
She tried to ignore it—ignore him—but every time she moved, she could feel his presence following. When she laughed with a politician’s son, her skin crawled. When she stepped out onto the balcony for air, she sensed the eyes. Cold. Calculating.
Wanting,
Across the room, Matteo stood in the shadows, a glass of scotch untouched in his hand.
He wasn’t here for the party.
He was here for her, Isabella Moreau.
The diplomat’s daughter. Untouchable. Innocent-looking.
A lie wrapped in lace.
She had put a bullet in one of his men. Not clean. Not trained. But intentional. Bold. A message wrapped in desperation. And now he couldn’t stop watching her.
He told himself it was strategy. Punishment. Control.
But it wasn’t, it was something else.Something far more dangerous.
She moved like a girl who didn’t know she was prey.Or worse… like a girl who did, and didn’t care.
In the corridor leading to the restrooms, Isabella stopped. Checked her reflection. Tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She didn’t know that just a hallway away, Matteo stood still, his eyes locked on her through the reflection of a mirror angled just right.
She looked like temptation dressed in arrogance.
She looked like the thing that would break him.
And Matteo didn’t break.Not ever.But still, he watched her.
Long after she left the mirror. Long after she disappeared down the hall.
He stayed,listening to her footsteps echo, memorizing them.
Just like he had memorized her schedule. Her patterns. Her favorite bookstore. The way she bit her lip when she lied.
She thought she had escaped him, but Matteo Romano was a patient man.And now, she was in his web.He wouldn’t touch her,he wouldn’t speak to her, Not yet, but when the moment came,he would burn the world to the ground to hear her scream his name
