The Rossi estate looked different in daylight.

Soft sunlight spilled through the arched windows, glinting off marble floors and polished brass. The scent of strong coffee and blooming jasmine drifted through the air. Somewhere far off, she heard faint piano notes-low, melancholic, deliberate.

Valentina hadn't slept.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him, the flash of silver in his gaze, the heat of his breath against her ear, the calm cruelty in his words. My name. My mark. My child.

The thought alone sent a tremor down her spine.

A maid entered quietly, laying a tray on the nightstand. "Signora Rossi," she murmured, eyes downcast. "The master asks that you join him for breakfast."

Valentina froze at the title. Signora Rossi.

The words felt like iron shackles.

Still, she nodded. "Tell him I'll be down."

The maid hesitated, then added softly, "He doesn't like to wait."

She found him in the sunroom.

The morning light poured through tall windows, setting the gold accents of his cufflinks aflame. He stood near the table, reading the newspaper, a cup of espresso untouched beside him. The scene was domestic-almost peaceful-except for the unmistakable power that clung to him like another layer of clothing.

"You're late," he said without looking up.

She bit back a sharp reply. "I didn't realize my new husband kept military time."

He folded the paper, finally meeting her gaze. "In my world, punctuality can mean survival."

"Are we at war?" she asked dryly.

A hint of a smirk. "Always."

He gestured for her to sit. The table was set with fresh pastries, fruit, and imported cheeses-luxury arranged with precision. She sat stiffly, hands folded in her lap.

He poured coffee for both of them, the act surprisingly... gentle. "Eat," he ordered.

"I'm not hungry."

His gaze lifted, patient but edged. "You will eat."

She reached for the cup instead, her pulse fluttering beneath her calm. "You can't control everything, Alistair."

"Can't I?" he murmured, taking a slow sip.

A silent, invisible war neither of them could name.

He studied her across the table. "You're braver than I expected."

"I'm not brave," she said, staring into her cup. "Just trapped."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Trapped people beg. You challenge me."

Her lips twitched. "Maybe I'm just stupid."

He chuckled, a rare sound, deep and unexpectedly warm. "Perhaps. But I prefer the word fearless."

Their eyes locked. The silence stretched, thick and unspoken. For the briefest moment, the world outside seemed to still.

Then he stood abruptly, breaking the spell. "Come," he said. "There's something I want to show you."

The corridors wound endlessly, each turn revealing another fragment of the Rossi empire: grand halls lined with ancient portraits, rooms filled with quiet wealth and history.

They stopped before a pair of wrought-iron doors leading to the gardens. Sunlight streamed through the glass, turning the air gold.

Alistair pushed the doors open.

The garden was breathtaking. Roses climbed trellises in deep crimson and ivory. A marble fountain trickled softly, surrounded by olive trees that swayed in the breeze. It was the first beauty she'd seen since being taken.

Valentina inhaled deeply. "I didn't think a man like you cared for things that grow."

"Even predators need peace," he said.

She turned to him. "Do you find it here?"

He looked past her, toward the fountain. "Sometimes. When the noise in my head quiets."

There it was, something in his voice, something human. Fragile. Fleeting.

She studied him carefully. "Is that why you wanted me here? To see that you're not all teeth and power?"

He met her gaze, expression unreadable. "I brought you here because I wanted you to know this will be your home. If you behave."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll remind you why people fear my name."

The words should have chilled her. But instead, her pulse quickened.

"Is fear all you know, Alistair?" she whispered. "Or are you capable of something else?"

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "Careful, bella mia. Curiosity can be dangerous."

"I'm already in danger," she said.

Their eyes met again, and something shifted between them slowly, magnetic, inevitable. The air grew heavier. He reached out, tracing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers brushing her cheek.

For one heartbeat, she thought he might kiss her.

Then, he froze. His body went rigid, nostrils flaring as if catching a scent. His eyes darkened, glowing faintly silver under the sun.

"Alistair?"

He turned away sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Go inside."

"What."

"Now."

His tone wasn't cruel-it was desperate.

She hesitated, watching his shoulders tense, his breath grow shallow. And then she saw it-the faint shimmer of veins beneath his skin, pulsing like light through glass.

"What's happening to you?" she whispered.

"Nothing you need to see," he said through clenched teeth.

She didn't move. "It's the curse, isn't it?"

He spun, eyes bright and inhuman. "I said go!"

For the first time, she saw it fully-the beast beneath the man. The perfect mask cracking.

But instead of running, she stepped closer. Slowly.

"You're fighting it," she murmured. "You're in pain."

His breathing quickened. "Valentina."

"You hide it from them. From everyone." She reached up, fingers trembling as they brushed the side of his jaw. His skin was burning. "You don't want to be this, do you?"

He caught her wrist, but not harshly. His grip trembled. His eyes, now flickering between silver and gray, locked on hers.

"You don't understand," he rasped. "The more you see me, the less safe you are."

"Then stop hiding," she said softly.

Something broke inside him-she saw it in the way his expression faltered, the way his thumb brushed her pulse like he needed proof she was real.

He leaned forward, lips ghosting dangerously close to hers. "You shouldn't care," he murmured.

"Maybe I don't," she whispered, but the lie was too fragile to stand.

For a moment, time held its breath. His forehead pressed against hers, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest-not anger, not hunger, but something raw and broken.

Then, just as she thought he'd close the space between them.

A scream tore through the courtyard.

It was distant, female, terrified.

Alistair's head snapped up. He released her instantly, the softness gone from his eyes. "Stay here," he ordered, voice all command again.

"Who was that?" she demanded.

He didn't answer. He was already moving-swift, silent, a shadow cutting across the sunlight.

Valentina's heart thundered. The scream echoed again, and then-silence.

She took a step toward the garden gate, but something at the edge of the fountain caught her eye. A glint of metal.

She knelt, reaching into the water.

Her fingers closed around a chain-delicate, gold, familiar.

Her mother's necklace.

The one buried with her years ago.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She looked toward the path Alistair had taken, the rose petals drifting like blood on the breeze.

What was her mother's necklace doing here-on the Rossi estate?

And what did Alistair Rossi have to do with it?

The scream still echoed in Valentina's head long after it faded into silence.

Her fingers clutched the wet chain, her heartbeat loud in her ears. The tiny gold locket-her mother's-glimmered under the sun like a cruel joke.

It wasn't possible. She'd seen that necklace lowered into the grave with her mother. She'd buried it herself.

A chill crawled down her spine.

"Valentina."

The voice made her whirl around. A woman stood at the far end of the garden path. Tall, dark-haired, wrapped in a flowing silk robe the color of blood. Her eyes-sharp and calculating-traveled over Valentina with unsettling ease.

"You shouldn't wander alone," the woman said, stepping closer, the faint click of her heels echoing off the stones. "The master doesn't appreciate disobedience."

"Who are you?" Valentina asked, hiding the necklace in her fist.

The woman's red lips curved. "Someone who was once exactly where you are now."

Valentina's pulse jumped. "You mean...?"

"Yes," the woman interrupted. "His bride."

Valentina stared. "You're lying."

The stranger chuckled softly. "Am I? Tell me, did he look at you the way he looks at prey or possession?"

She took another step forward, and Valentina could finally see the faint scar that slashed down the left side of her throat. The mark looked old, almost healed-but not quite human.

"What happened to you?" Valentina whispered.

"What always happens," the woman said quietly. "The wolf remembers its hunger."

Before Valentina could ask more, footsteps thundered through the courtyard. Guards spilled out from the corridor, and behind them came Alistair-his expression carved in fury, his silver eyes still faintly glowing.

The woman's smile vanished. "You shouldn't have come back so soon," she murmured to herself.

"Lucia," Alistair's voice was a whip, low and dangerous. "You have five seconds to explain why you're here."

Valentina blinked. Lucia. The name hit her like a stone.

She'd heard it once-in the whispered rumors her father's men exchanged late at night. Lucia DeVore. Alistair's first fiancée. The one who had supposedly vanished years ago after betraying him.

Lucia tilted her head, mock-innocent. "Curiosity. I wanted to meet your new bride."

Alistair's gaze cut to Valentina, then back to Lucia. His jaw flexed. "You'll leave. Now."

"Still so charming," Lucia purred. "You think you can bury ghosts, but you forget-they crawl back."

"Guards," Alistair snapped.

The men moved forward, but Lucia only smiled wider. "Careful, darling. You might need me sooner than you think. The curse is growing stronger, isn't it? I can smell it from here."

The silver in his eyes flashed like lightning. "Out!"

Lucia laughed, low and melodic. "Enjoy your honeymoon, Signora Rossi." She brushed past Valentina, her perfume heavy with jasmine and smoke. Her whisper trailed in the air: "Run while you still can."

Then she was gone.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Alistair stood there, his chest rising and falling, his knuckles white.

Valentina forced herself to speak. "Who is she?"

He didn't answer. He turned, shoving a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath that sounded almost like a growl.

"She said she was your bride," Valentina pressed. "Is that true?"

He faced her slowly. "She was nothing."

"Nothing doesn't leave scars on your throat," Valentina said softly.

His eyes hardened. "Be careful what you ask, Valentina. Some truths cut too deep."

"Like this one?" She opened her palm. The necklace glittered in the sunlight between them.

Alistair froze.

"Where did you get that?" His voice was suddenly low, dangerous, but not with anger-with something else. Shock.

"It was in your fountain," she said. "This belonged to my mother."

He stared at the locket as though it were a ghost. "That's impossible."

"Is it?" she said. "You tell me, Alistair. How does something buried with my mother end up in your home?"

For the first time since she met him, his composure cracked. His hand came up, then dropped. "Who gave this to you?"

"No one. I found it."

His eyes flicked toward the iron gate, his jaw tightening. "Then someone wants you to find it."

Valentina frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means," he said slowly, "this wasn't an accident."

Before she could reply, one of his guards rushed in. "Sir, we found her."

Lucia.

"Where?"

The guard hesitated. "She's dead, sir."

Valentina gasped.

The guard's voice shook. "Her body was found by the north wing. Torn apart."

The blood drained from Valentina's face. Alistair's entire frame stiffened.

"Seal the estate," he ordered. "No one leaves, no one enters."

"Yes, Alpha."

The title slipped out naturally-Alpha. Not boss, not sir. Alpha.

When the guards left, Valentina whispered, "It was a wolf, wasn't it?"

His expression gave her the answer she didn't want.

He turned away. "Go back to your room."

"No," she said, heart beating. "If something is out there."

"I said go!"

The sharpness in his tone cut through her, but beneath it she caught something she hadn't heard before-fear. Not for himself. For her.

Still trembling, she obeyed, hurrying down the corridor.

But curiosity gnawed at her.

She slipped past the staircase and turned down a hall that led to the northern wing. The air grew colder, heavier. The lights flickered overhead.

When she reached the courtyard, she stopped.

Blood. Everywhere. Streaked across the cobblestones, soaked into the grass. And there-half-hidden behind the marble arch-was Lucia's body. Or what was left of it.

Her throat burned, bile rising. The scent of iron filled her nose.

She turned to run-and froze.

A low growl came from the shadows.

Her heart stopped.

Two glowing eyes appeared-silver, just like his.

"Alistair?" she whispered.

The creature stepped forward. It wasn't him. The beast was massive, black fur matted with blood, teeth bared. Its size dwarfed any wolf she'd ever imagined.

She stumbled back, tripping on the stones. The thing snarled, crouching low.

Before it lunged, a second growl tore through the air-deeper, angrier.

Another wolf slammed into the first, sending both creatures crashing into the fountain.

Valentina scrambled to her feet, backing away as the two monsters fought. Claws slashed, teeth snapped, the sound echoing like thunder through the courtyard. One wolf was darker, wilder-but the other-its eyes were familiar.

Silver.

Alistair.

Her breath caught as realization sank in.

He wasn't just cursed. He was one of them.

The fight ended in a blur. The black wolf fled into the woods, leaving Alistair crouched on all fours, blood dripping from his muzzle.

For a heartbeat, their gazes met. Man and beast.

Then his body convulsed. Fur retracted. Bones cracked. And before her eyes, he shifted-skin replacing fur, breath heaving.

He knelt there, human again, naked and trembling under the moonlight.

Valentina's mind spun.

He lifted his head, eyes clouded with pain. "You weren't supposed to see this," he rasped.

"You saved me," she whispered.

He laughed weakly, bitterly. "Don't make me sound noble."

She took a hesitant step forward, grabbing the cloak from the statue nearby and draping it over his shoulders. His skin burned under her touch.

"Who was the other one?" she asked.

His jaw clenched. "Not a who. A what. A rogue. Part of a pack that shouldn't exist."

"But it was inside your walls."

"I know," he said darkly. "Which means someone let it in."

Valentina thought of the necklace, the scream, the way Lucia had looked at her. "Lucia," she breathed.

"She was already dead before that beast touched her," Alistair said, voice rough. "The attack was meant for you."

She felt the blood drain from her face. "Me?"

"Yes. Someone wants to send a message. You're not safe here."

Her hands shook. "Then why keep me?"

He stood, the cloak falling loosely around him, eyes burning with something fierce and unreadable. "Because I protect what's mine."

Her pulse raced. "Even if you're the one who caged it?"

He looked at her for a long time. Then, quietly, "Especially then."

The tension between them thickened-fear, heat, confusion all tangled together.

Valentina's voice trembled. "Alistair, if you're cursed-if this is what you are-why marry me at all?"

He stepped closer, the faintest trace of sorrow shadowing his face. "Because the Moon Goddess gave me one chance to break it. A mate born under the red moon."

Her breath hitched. "And that's me?"

He nodded once. "You think I wanted this? That I wanted to chain you to me? I don't. But if I don't claim you, I'll lose everything-my empire, my men, my sanity."

"And if you do?" she asked softly.

His gaze flicked to her lips. "Then you'll lose yours."

The words hung in the air like a spell.

Thunder rumbled again, distant and low. Somewhere beyond the walls, another wolf howled-a cry that sounded both warning and promise.

Alistair turned toward the sound, every muscle tense. "They're coming back," he muttered.

"Who?"

"The rogues."

He looked back at her, eyes glowing faintly silver again. "Get inside, Valentina. Lock your door."

"And you?" she whispered.

He gave a crooked, dangerous smile. "I'm going hunting."

He disappeared into the mist before she could speak, the night swallowing him whole.

Valentina stood there, clutching her mother's locket, heart racing.

The night stretched long and restless after Alistair vanished into the mist.

Valentina stood frozen in the courtyard, gripping her mother's locket so tightly that the edges dug into her palm. Every sound seemed louder-the whisper of wind through the olive trees, the faint creak of the gates, the echo of distant howls. She should've run back inside as he ordered, but something in her refused to move.

She didn't trust safety that came from obedience.

Not anymore.

It took almost an hour before she finally crept back into the mansion. The corridors glowed with the dim light of sconces, and somewhere in the distance, the clock struck midnight. The halls felt emptier than ever.

Servants were nowhere to be seen. Guards-gone. The silence was unnatural, as if the house itself was holding its breath.

When she reached the grand staircase, she heard something-a faint metallic scrape.

She paused.

It came again.

Slowly, she followed the sound to the east wing, where the walls grew darker and colder. A draft slipped through a cracked door at the end of the hallway. She pushed it open.

The air inside smelled of damp earth and metal. The room was small-more like a cellar. Old crates were stacked in one corner, covered in dust. In the center, half-buried under a torn tarp, she saw it: a steel cage.

A large cage.

The kind that could hold something... alive.

Her stomach turned.

Inside the cage, chains hung from the bars-thick, reinforced with silver. Dried blood streaked the floor beneath.

Valentina's heart slammed against her ribs.

He kept one of them here.

Or maybe... himself.

She stepped closer, noticing claw marks gouged into the steel. Whatever had been inside had fought-desperately-to get out.

Her breath came fast.

"Valentina?"

She spun, almost screaming. A man stood in the doorway-a guard she hadn't seen before. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, with close-cropped hair and a scar that ran across his temple.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, stepping closer.

"I heard something," she said quickly. "Who are you?"

"Luca," he said. "Second in command to the Alpha."

The word Alpha caught in her chest. "Where's Alistair?"

"Hunting," Luca said curtly, eyes flicking to the cage. "You shouldn't be here, Signora."

"I'm not afraid," she lied.

He gave a humorless smile. "You should be."

Her gaze lingered on the bloodstained floor. "Whose cage is that?"

For a moment, he didn't answer. Then, softly, "His."

She froze. "Alistair's?"

Luca nodded once. "When the moon rises too high, he locks himself here-to keep others safe."

Her throat tightened. "Safe from what?"

He looked at her as though the answer were obvious. "From himself."

Valentina took a step back, the air suddenly colder. "Does he... kill?"

Luca hesitated, then said, "He tries not to."

The honesty in his tone made it worse.

She looked around the cage again. "You mean he can't always control it."

Luca's jaw tightened. "You should go before he finds you here."

"Why? What would he do?"

He didn't reply.

Her pulse raced. "Tell me, Luca. Why would he?..."

"Because he doesn't like being reminded of the monster he is."

Something in his voice cracked on that last word, and before she could respond, he turned and left.

She stared after him for a long moment, then looked back at the cage.

The monster he is.

The man she'd just begun to see differently.

When she finally returned to her room, dawn was beginning to touch the sky. Pale gold light filtered through the curtains. She sank onto the bed, exhaustion pressing down on her-but her mind wouldn't stop spinning.

Lucia's death. The necklace. The other wolf. The cage.

Everything pointed back to Alistair.

But if he truly wanted her dead, why save her?

She drifted in and out of uneasy sleep, haunted by flashes of silver eyes and blood-red roses.

A knock at the door jolted her awake.

"Enter," she called, voice hoarse.

A maid slipped inside, setting a tray of breakfast on the table. "The master wishes to see you in the study," she said quietly.

Valentina blinked the sleep from her eyes. "Is he back?"

"Yes, Signora. Since dawn."

Her pulse quickened.

She changed quickly into a simple black dress and followed the maid through the corridors.

When she entered the study, Alistair was standing by the window, his shirt sleeves rolled up, the faint trace of bandages visible on his forearm. He looked human again. Controlled. But the exhaustion in his eyes told another story.

"You didn't sleep," he said without turning.

"Neither did you."

He looked over his shoulder, gaze heavy on her face. "You disobeyed me last night."

Her chest tightened. "You would've left me to wonder if you were dead."

His lips curved faintly, though it wasn't a smile. "You shouldn't have seen what you saw."

"You mean the truth?"

He sighed, moving to the desk. "You think you want answers, Valentina, but you don't."

"Try me."

He studied her for a long moment, then said quietly, "That creature wasn't random. Someone inside this estate let it in. Someone who knew our defenses."

"Lucia?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not."

"Then who?"

"I'm still finding out."

Her gaze dropped to the bandage on his arm. "You were hurt."

He shrugged. "It's nothing."

"Does it happen often? Losing control?"

His eyes flicked to hers, sharp as glass. "Be careful, Valentina."

She held his gaze. "I found the cage."

Silence fell.

He didn't move. Didn't blink.

"How much did you see?" he asked finally.

"Enough."

He leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. "That's where I stay when the full moon rises. When the curse takes over."

"Why not tell me?" she demanded. "Why keep it a secret?"

"Because," he said softly, "you already look at me like I'm dangerous. I didn't need you to look at me like I'm damned."

Her anger faltered. "You think I pity you?"

"I think you don't understand what you're married to."

He rose, circling the desk slowly until he stood close enough that she could smell the faint musk of smoke and cedar clinging to his skin. "You're here because of a deal. Don't confuse it with destiny."

"I didn't," she said quietly. "But you did."

His eyes darkened, something fierce flashing through them. "Careful, Valentina."

"Or what?" she whispered. "You'll lock me in that cage too?"

For a split second, his mask cracked-just a flicker of pain-and then it was gone.

He stepped back. "You may go."

She hesitated. "Alistair."

"Go."

The word carried finality.

She left the study with her pulse racing and her mind in chaos.

Later that afternoon, she wandered through the garden again. The blood had been cleaned, but the air still smelled faintly metallic. Workers moved quietly, scrubbing stone, replacing broken marble.

Something glittered near the fountain. She knelt, half-expecting another ghost from her past. But it was only a ring-plain gold, engraved with a wolf's head.

When she picked it up, a voice behind her said, "That belonged to the Alpha's father."

She turned. Luca stood in the shadows again.

"His father?" she asked.

He nodded. "Before he died, he made Alistair swear to protect both worlds-the human and the beast. But some in the pack believe he's failed."

"Failed how?"

"By marrying you," Luca said flatly. "They think you weaken him."

Her stomach twisted. "Weaken?"

He gave a thin smile. "You're his mortal tether. The closer he gets to you, the more human he becomes. And for the wolves... that's unforgivable."

Valentina stared down at the ring. "So they want me dead."

Luca inclined his head slightly. "Maybe."

She shivered. "And what about you, Luca? Do you want me dead?"

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "That depends on whether you survive the next moon."

Before she could reply, he was gone.

That night, Valentina couldn't sleep again. Every creak of the mansion made her flinch. She sat by the window, the moonlight spilling across her hands, the locket warm against her skin.

She couldn't stop replaying what Luca said-the closer he gets to you, the more human he becomes.

If that was true, then maybe she was the key to his curse.

Or maybe she was just another sacrifice waiting to happen.

When she finally ventured downstairs for water, she noticed the study door slightly ajar. A faint light glowed inside.

She pushed it open quietly.

Alistair was there-shirtless, blood still smeared across his shoulder, standing before the mirror. His reflection shimmered strangely, his eyes glowing silver though his expression remained calm.

Then, slowly, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out something wrapped in cloth.

He unrolled it-and Valentina's breath hitched.

A dagger. Silver, gleaming in the lamplight.

Her mother's initials were carved on the hilt.

Her heart stopped.

He stared at it for a long time, jaw tight, as if at war with himself. Then he murmured something she barely heard-words that made the blood drain from her face.

"She shouldn't have known."

He wrapped the dagger again and locked it away.

Valentina pressed herself against the wall, shaking.

She didn't know what terrified her more-that he owned a weapon marked with her mother's name, or that he seemed to know why.

When he turned toward the door, she slipped silently back into the shadows, heart hammering, breath ragged.

Back in her room, she bolted the door and stared at her reflection.

Who was Alistair Rossi, really? The cursed savior who saved her life-or the man who might've taken her mother's?