4~The Invitation

The SUV's leather seats smelled faintly of smoke and cologne. Elara sat stiffly, her satchel clutched in her lap like it could shield her from the danger sitting only a few miles away. The men who'd picked her up didn't speak; their silence was heavier than threats.

Her heart pounded as the car turned off the main road. The city noise faded, replaced by the quiet hum of tires rolling along a private stretch of asphalt lined with tall iron gates.

DeLuca estate.

Her stomach twisted.

The car rolled to a slow stop before the gates. Cameras blinked, and with a buzz, the iron parted. Beyond lay something that didn't belong to the same world as hers: manicured lawns, statues imported from Italy, a mansion that rose like a fortress with its pale stone walls and rows of lit windows. The kind of place you only ever saw in films—the kind of place people whispered about but never got close to.

The men didn't guide her with force. They didn't need to. Her fear was enough.

Inside, the air was cool, quiet, almost reverent. The marble floors echoed under her sneakers. Expensive art lined the walls, staring down at her like silent witnesses.

And then she saw him.

Raphael DeLuca.

He stood at the end of the hall, no longer in bloodstained clothes but in a crisp white shirt, the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His presence filled the room more than the house itself.

Elara froze.

Raphael circled her like a predator testing prey. He wasn't angry—not yet. He was curious. Intrigued. No one had ever dared involve outsiders in his world. Especially not a woman who had patched him up without realizing who he was.

"You walk into a police station..." he said softly, almost like amusement. "You say my name without saying it. And you think they wouldn't tell me?"

Her breath hitched. She hadn't said his name. But he wasn't wrong.

He leaned in close enough for her to catch the faintest trace of smoke and leather clinging to him. "You're either very stupid, or very brave. I haven't decided which yet."

Her hands trembled. "I don't want to be involved in this."

He smirked, straightening. "Too late."

The silence stretched before he finally turned away, giving an order to one of his men without looking back. "Make sure she doesn't leave until I say so."

Elara's stomach dropped. She hadn't walked into a police station. She had walked into a cage.

And for the first time since she'd come to this city, she realized—there was no way out.

He didn't greet her. Didn't thank her. Just studied her in silence, those green eyes impossible to read.

"You've been busy, doctor," he finally said, his voice low, smooth, but carrying that dangerous weight she remembered from the night before.

Elara swallowed hard. "I only told them the truth."

One brow lifted, faint amusement flashing. "Truth?" He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. "And what truth was that?"

She hesitated, forcing the words out. "That someone died. That a man was injured. That I treated him."

For the briefest second, something flickered across his face—tension, maybe, or anger. But then it was gone, replaced with that cold composure that made her stomach knot.

"You think that makes you safe?" he asked softly, circling her like she was already trapped prey. "Running into a station, spilling blood that wasn't yours to spill?"

Her chest tightened. "I didn't say your name. I don't even know your name."

He stopped. That, he found interesting.

A slow smirk curved his lips. "Good."

Elara's brows furrowed, confusion twisting with fear. "Good? What do you mean good?"

He didn't answer. He just studied her like she was both a liability and... something else. Something he hadn't decided on yet.

"You'll stay here tonight," he said finally, turning away, already dismissing her.

Her voice cracked. "Stay here? With you? In this... in this place? I don't even know who you are."

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes glinting in the low light. "Exactly."

Her heart sank, frustration flaring against fear. "You can't just—"

But his men stepped closer at the sound of her voice, and she shut her mouth.

For the first time since moving to this cursed city, Elara realized she had stumbled into something far bigger, far darker than she ever imagined. She didn't know who he was. She didn't know why he cared enough to keep her here.

All she knew was the truth she had seen with her own eyes.

He killed a man.

And now, somehow, she was trapped in his world

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