Chapter 1 – The Vision

Elara Veyra, a cursed healer, experiences a haunting vision of a mafia heir’s death. She knows she shouldn’t interfere, but fate pulls her closer

Chapter 1 – The Vision

The city of Quirosity never truly slept. Its cobbled streets pulsed with the heartbeat of two worlds—one draped in velvet shadows of crime, the other cloaked in silver light of forbidden magic. Elara Veyra walked carefully between them, never belonging to either, yet cursed to glimpse both.

Her gift—if it could be called that—was not healing, though her hands could stitch skin and calm fever. No, her true curse was her sight. At the most unexpected moments, the world before her dissolved into fragments of what was to come: blood on stone, whispers in the dark, the fleeting kiss of death.

That night, as she pressed a cool cloth to a child’s forehead, the vision struck.

Her breath hitched.

The walls of the dim healer’s hut melted away, replaced by a moonlit courtyard lined with black iron fences. A young man knelt on the ground, his hands bound, his face shadowed—yet she knew him. Cassian Moretti. Heir to the Moretti syndicate. A name spoken in fear and respect across Quirosity.

Gunshots echoed. She saw his body jolt, saw blood spill across cobblestones like crimson petals. His eyes—gray and sharp as daggers—met hers in the vision, as though he could see her across time.

And then, silence.

Elara staggered, clutching the wooden counter. The child’s mother caught her arm.

“Are you ill, healer?”

“I’m fine,” she lied, though her pulse hammered like war drums.

The visions always came with a choice: to interfere, or to remain silent. Interference never ended well—her visions were cursed for a reason. The last time she warned someone, they died faster than fate had planned.

Yet something about those silver-gray eyes gnawed at her.

Later, when the night was heavy with fog, Elara stepped outside into the streets of Quirosity. She told herself she was simply restless. But her feet carried her north, toward the iron-clad district where the Moretti family reigned.

And there—exactly as she had foreseen—she found the courtyard.

Hidden in the shadows of a crumbling arch, she watched. Figures in black suits stood in a semicircle. At their center, Cassian knelt, his jaw tense, his pride unbroken despite the ropes cutting into his wrists.

“Cassian Moretti,” a cold voice declared, “your arrogance ends tonight. The family does not forgive betrayal.”

Elara’s heart pounded. This was it—the vision, unfolding before her eyes. She should turn away. She should never have come.

But she stayed.

The gun was raised. The shot rang out.

And then—something impossible happened.

Cassian did not fall. Instead, the bullet burned into his chest, and from the wound spilled not only blood—but silver fire. His head snapped back, his eyes blazing with unnatural light.

Every man in the courtyard froze.

And Elara, trembling in the shadows, realized this was no ordinary death. This was the beginning of something much worse

Chapter 2 – The Execution That Failed

Cassian Moretti, heir to the ruthless Moretti syndicate, faces betrayal by his own family. Shot and left to die, he awakens with a strange silver fire in his veins.

Chapter 2 – Shadows in the Alley

The city never slept, but tonight it felt like it was holding its breath. A silence pressed against the walls of the narrow alley where Elena found herself cornered, her pulse racing louder than the distant hum of engines. The cobblestones glistened with last night’s rain, reflecting fractured pieces of moonlight.

She gripped the dagger hidden beneath her coat, fingers trembling—not from fear, but from anticipation. She had been warned that once you entered their world, you could never walk away. The mafia’s shadows were like vines, wrapping tighter until even your breath was no longer your own.

“Running already?” The voice slid through the darkness, low and dangerous, with the curl of a smile hidden beneath its edge. From the shadows stepped Adrian Moretti, heir to the blood empire that ruled half the city. His suit was blacker than the night, his tie loosened like he had just left a battlefield instead of a gala. His eyes—cold silver under the moon—caught hers with a force that rooted her in place.

Elena straightened, refusing to let him see the way her heart faltered. “I don’t run.”

“Good,” he said softly, almost like a whisper meant only for her. “Because I hate chasing.”

The silence between them stretched, heavy with something unspoken. Elena’s mind raced—she remembered the stories, the warnings. Adrian was known as the “Moonlit Wolf,” ruthless, unpredictable, and yet… mesmerizing. Standing this close, she understood why. His presence was a storm, and she was standing willingly at its center.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, stepping closer. The scent of smoke and steel clung to him. “The moment they see you with me, you’ll be marked.”

“I was already marked the day your family spilled my brother’s blood,” Elena spat, her voice sharp enough to cut.

For the briefest flicker, something human crossed his face—regret, or maybe recognition—but it vanished like mist. He tilted his head, studying her with the quiet intensity of a predator.

“Then why are you still here?” he asked.

The question lodged in her chest. Why indeed? Revenge was the answer she wanted to give, but the truth was tangled, dangerous even to admit. Because somewhere between the blood and the moonlight, she felt a pull she couldn’t explain—towards him, towards the very man who should be her enemy.

Adrian’s hand brushed against her dagger before she could react, his fingers curling around hers. His touch was firm, commanding, yet strangely gentle.

“If you plan to kill me,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her ear, “do it now. Because after tonight, I won’t let you go.”

Her breath hitched. The night seemed to still, the city watching from every shadow as Elena realized something she hadn’t wanted to face: the war between vengeance and desire had only just begun

Chapter 3 – A Pact in the Dark

The city was quieter than usual, as if the night itself held its breath. Elena stood in her apartment, pacing the wooden floorboards until they creaked beneath her restless steps. Her mind refused to release the memory of silver eyes catching hers under the moonlight, the weight of Adrian Moretti’s hand closing over hers, the whisper of his words: “Do it now. Because after tonight, I won’t let you go.”

She should have killed him. Every part of her screamed that she should have buried the dagger deep and ended the heir of the Moretti empire right there in the alley. But instead, she had frozen—caught between vengeance and the unfamiliar pull of something far more dangerous.

A sharp knock startled her from her storming thoughts. She grabbed her dagger and crept toward the door. Silence. Then, the faint sound of paper sliding against wood. Cautiously, Elena bent down. A folded note lay on the floor, stark against the shadows. She unfolded it with trembling fingers.

The message was short, jagged, and cold:

“Stay away from him. Or you won’t live to regret it.”

Her breath hitched. Someone knew. Someone was watching.

For the rest of the night, she sat awake by the window, the city’s neon lights painting her face in shades of danger. Every sound in the hallway made her grip the dagger tighter. By dawn, she had made her decision. She wouldn’t run. Whoever thought they could threaten her would learn she was no pawn.

The next evening, Elena followed the instructions that had come hours later—a single text from an unknown number. Meet me. Midnight. The old cathedral.

The cathedral stood at the edge of the city, abandoned for years, its broken windows staring like empty eyes into the night. The wind whistled through its bones as Elena stepped inside, boots echoing softly against the cracked stone floor.

“Always this cautious?” a voice murmured, low and familiar.

Adrian emerged from the shadows, dressed in black, but not the polished black of his public persona. Tonight, he was stripped of pretense. A wolf, not a prince. His silver gaze locked onto hers, piercing, assessing.

“You sent the note,” she accused.

“No,” he said, his tone calm but sharp. “But I knew it would come. My enemies are getting bolder. They don’t just want me dead—they want to erase anyone who stands too close.”

Her grip on the dagger tightened. “Then maybe I should thank them. They might save me the trouble of doing it myself.”

A smirk ghosted across his lips. “You had your chance, Elena. And you didn’t take it.”

The words stung. She wanted to deny them, but the truth lingered heavy in her silence.

Adrian stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Listen to me. Whoever sent that note is no ally of yours. If they want you gone, it’s because you’re more dangerous than you realize. And I don’t intend to let them have you.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why? Why protect me? You’re the reason I’m in this mess.”

His gaze softened for the briefest flicker, but the steel returned quickly. “Because whether you like it or not, our fates are tied. You want revenge. I want to know who’s bleeding my family from the inside. That makes us allies—if you can stomach it.”

Elena’s laugh was short, sharp, bitter. “An alliance with a Moretti? That’s a pact with the devil.”

“Perhaps,” Adrian said, taking another step, until his presence pressed against her like heat in the cold. “But devils make excellent protectors. And I’d rather have you alive and furious than dead in a gutter.”

She studied him, heart pounding. His offer was madness. Yet beneath her anger, a darker thought clawed at her chest: with him, she might finally have the power to reach the truth.

Slowly, she extended her free hand, dagger still firm in the other. “Fine. A pact in the dark. But don’t mistake this for trust.”

Adrian’s hand closed around hers, warm, commanding, unyielding. “Trust can wait. Survival cannot.”

The pact was sealed beneath the broken eyes of the cathedral, but Elena knew this was no alliance of equals. It was a dangerous game, one where desire threatened to eclipse vengeance, and where one wrong move could bind her to the wolf forever.