Blood in the Shadows

Chapter Three: Blood in the Shadows

The air inside the Ranoli estate felt different when Anastasia and Damien returned from the balcony — heavier, tense, charged with unspoken violence.

Anastasia felt it immediately. The party was still going on, but beneath the glittering chandeliers and polite laughter, there was an undercurrent of fear. Damien’s men moved with sharp, deliberate precision, their eyes scanning the room like hunting dogs waiting for a signal.

Something was wrong.

Damien’s grip on her hand was firm as he guided her past the crowd. His charming mask remained in place, but beneath it, she caught a glimpse of the cold, ruthless predator he truly was.

They stopped in front of a set of ornate double doors guarded by two armed men. Without a word, Damien nodded, and the doors swung open, revealing a long, dimly lit hallway.

Anastasia hesitated, every instinct screaming at her to turn back. But this was why she was here — to see what no one else could see, to uncover the truths buried beneath Damien Ranoli’s empire.

“Come, bella,” Damien said smoothly, his voice like silk over steel. “I want to show you something… private.”

Her pulse spiked. Private could mean anything in his world, and most of the possibilities weren’t good.

Still, she forced a coy smile and followed him into the shadows.

The hallway led to a large underground chamber, its walls lined with crates and weapons. Anastasia’s eyes scanned the space quickly, noting exits, guard positions, and potential threats. Her assassin’s training kicked in automatically, but outwardly, she remained calm, curious, even a little playful.

At the center of the room stood three men, kneeling on the cold concrete floor. Their hands were bound, their faces bruised and bloodied. They trembled like cornered animals.

Anastasia’s stomach tightened.

One of Damien’s lieutenants stepped forward, whispering something into his ear. Damien listened silently, then dismissed the man with a flick of his hand.

He crouched in front of the prisoners, his expression almost… gentle. “You know,” he began in Italian, his tone conversational, almost friendly, “there are two things I value above all else: loyalty and respect.”

The men didn’t answer. One whimpered.

Damien’s smile vanished, replaced by something cold and merciless.

“And you gave me neither.”

He stood, his hand slipping inside his jacket. Anastasia tensed. She’d seen this moment a hundred times before in her line of work, but something about watching him do it sent a chill down her spine.

With terrifying calm, Damien drew a gun — a sleek, black pistol with a custom grip. He didn’t shout, didn’t rage. He simply leveled it at the first man’s forehead and pulled the trigger.

The sound was deafening in the enclosed space. Blood splattered across the floor.

Anastasia didn’t flinch. She couldn’t afford to.

The second man screamed, begging for mercy in rapid Italian. Damien didn’t even look at him. He handed the gun to one of his men and turned away, his voice cold as ice.

“Make it clean. No mess.”

Two more shots rang out a moment later. Silence followed.

Anastasia’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. She had killed before — silently, efficiently, with purpose. But Damien’s violence was different. It was casual. Businesslike. As if he had merely crossed a name off a list.

This was who he truly was.

And this was the man she had to seduce… and ultimately destroy.

As they left the chamber, Damien’s demeanor shifted again, becoming smooth and charming, as if nothing had happened.

“Forgive me, bella,” he said, brushing a speck of imaginary dust from his sleeve. “Unpleasant business. I don’t usually mix work with pleasure.”

Anastasia forced a light laugh, even as her stomach churned. “I can handle a little unpleasantness.”

Damien glanced at her, his sharp blue eyes studying her closely. “Can you?”

For a heartbeat, she thought he might see through her mask.

But then he smiled, that devastatingly dangerous smile, and offered his arm.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s return to the party. You shouldn’t have to linger in the dark for too long.”

Anastasia slipped her hand into his arm, her face serene, her heart a storm.

Every moment with Damien was a dance on the edge of a blade.

And if she wasn’t careful, she’d be the one bleeding next.

Back at the party, the atmosphere felt almost surreal. Guests were laughing, sipping champagne, oblivious to the execution that had just taken place beneath their feet.

Anastasia excused herself to the ladies’ room, locking the door behind her. She leaned against the marble sink, her breath shaky, her hands trembling for just a moment before she forced herself back under control.

She pulled out her phone and sent a coded message to her handler:

“He’s more dangerous than expected. Proceeding with plan.”

The reply came almost instantly:

“Good. The closer you get, the faster he falls.”

Anastasia stared at the screen for a long moment, then tucked the phone away.

She studied her reflection in the mirror — the perfect mask of elegance and allure staring back at her.

But beneath it, her mind was spinning.

Damien Ranoli wasn’t just a target anymore. He was a puzzle, a threat, and a temptation all rolled into one.

And the most dangerous thing of all?

A small, treacherous part of her wasn’t entirely sure she wanted him to fall.

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