Under The Blood Moon seen

seen

Lena sat on the edge of her bed in the quiet homestay, the soft hum of the ocean breeze slipping through the window. The moonlight poured in, casting silver streaks across the room. Her phone glowed in her hand, the screen filled with article after article, pictures, and scarce mentions of a name that now lived rent-free in her mind.

Ivan Volk.

Lena

The infamous mafia boss. Dangerous. Ruthless. Cold. But also brilliant. Powerful. Untouchable?

Lena bit her lower lip as she stared at his photo—him in a crisp black suit, sunglasses perched on his sharp nose, the definition of authority. She zoomed in on the image, studying the cut of his jaw, the way his mouth curled into that same smirk he'd given her at the police station. A quiet shiver ran down her spine.

"I'll be watching you, Lena."

His voice still echoed in her mind like a haunting lullaby. She had replayed that moment in her head too many times now, analyzing the tone, the way he looked at her—like she was something more than just an annoyance. Like she meant something.

Lena

She blushed. Why did it thrill her? Why did it make her feel wanted? Alive?

Her fingers twitched against the screen, as her heart raced and her eyes burned with a hunger she hadn't felt in years. A hunger that had been locked away deep inside her, behind white walls and cold therapy sessions, sedatives, and fake smiles. She had gotten better. Or so they thought.

In truth, Lena had never been healed. She’d just learned how to hide it better. How to lie and smile, how to mimic the emotions people expected from her. But the moment she had seen Ivan again—seen the monster who had once ordered her to be thrown into the sea—something inside her clicked.

Lena

She leaned back against the pillow, hugging her phone to her chest, her mind spiraling into a maze of thoughts—dark, obsessive, breathless thoughts.

Lena

What does he eat? Where does he live? What cologne does he wear? Who does he trust?

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Lena