HELENA’S POV
The day had arrived, though part of me wished it hadn’t.
I stared at myself in the mirror, my reflection striking yet unrecognizable. The red dress clung to me like a second skin, its fabric pooling at my feet in elegant defiance of the night ahead. My mask-a sleek, feline design with sharp edges framing my eyes-only added to the surrealism of it all. I felt like a stranger in my own skin, dressed for a game where the stakes were life and death.
Behind me, Matteo’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You look stunning.”
I turned slightly, catching his gaze in the mirror as he stood in the doorway. His sharp intake of breath made my stomach flutter, but the butterflies were tangled with something else, something far darker.
He stepped closer, his footsteps soft against the carpeted floor. When he reached me, his hands found my waist, and his lips brushed mine-soft, gentle, reverent. For a moment, I let myself sink into the kiss, into him, but the moment broke as quickly as it came. Beneath the warmth of his touch, a chill slithered up my spine, impossible to ignore.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.
I wanted to say no. To rip off the mask, step out of the dress, and crawl back into bed. But Matteo was already moving, his confidence carrying him to the door, and I didn’t have the heart-or the courage-to stop him.
The car ride to the ball was suffocating. Silence stretched between us like a taut rope, every bump in the road threatening to snap it. Matteo’s jaw was set, his gaze fixed forward, while I stared out the window, my hands twisting in my lap. The plan looped endlessly in my mind, each iteration more fraught with doubt than the last.
When we arrived, Matteo turned to me, his expression softer than I’d expected. He reached for my hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. “You go in first,” he said. “I’ll be watching. When you’re ready, lead him outside.”
I nodded, my throat too tight for words. With a deep breath, I stepped out of the car, the cold night air biting at my bare shoulders.
The venue was everything a masked ball should be-dark, decadent, and dripping with mystery. Low, flickering lights cast long shadows across the marble floors, and a haunting melody hummed through the air, weaving its way around the guests like an unseen specter. Masks of every shape and size concealed identities, turning the crowd into a sea of faceless elegance.
I moved through the throng, the hem of my dress trailing behind me like spilled blood. My eyes scanned the room, searching for Dante, though part of me prayed he wouldn’t show. My fingers brushed the stem of a champagne flute as a waiter passed, and I took it, sipping slowly to calm my nerves. The bubbles fizzed on my tongue, their lightness a stark contrast to the weight pressing on my chest.
The music swelled, and I let myself sway to it, bobbing my head slightly as if I belonged here. I was beginning to feel the smallest semblance of calm when a tap on my shoulder shattered it entirely.
I froze.
The scent hit me first-earthy, musky, utterly familiar. My breath hitched as I turned, slow and deliberate, until I was face-to-face with him.
“Dante,” I breathed, the name slipping from my lips like a prayer or a curse.
His mask-a dark, intricate thing that covered everything but his mouth-only amplified the menace radiating from him. His lips stretched into a slow, taunting smile.
“Where’s your new boy toy? Or should I say, my traitorous half-brother?”
His words were a dagger, sharp and precise. I rolled my eyes, even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “I don’t have time for this,” I snapped, turning on my heel. I needed to find Matteo. I needed-
His hand closed around my wrist, firm and unyielding. “Can I at least get a dance with my wife?”
The word wife dripped with mockery, but I hesitated. This was my chance. I could lead him outside, right into Matteo’s trap.
“One dance,” I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt.
“Anything you say,” Dante replied, his tone laced with amusement.
He led me to the center of the floor, the crowd parting like shadows around us. The music shifted to something slower, darker, and his hands found my waist, pulling me closer than I wanted to be. His scent engulfed me, a heady mix of danger and allure.
I wanted to focus, to stick to the plan, but his presence was overwhelming. His touch, his gaze-everything about him was designed to unravel me.
Minutes passed, or maybe hours. Time blurred, lost in the tension between us. When I could take no more, I leaned into him, my lips brushing his ear. “I need some air,” I whispered. “Want to take a walk?”
“Anything my lady wants,” he murmured back, his voice smooth as silk.
He released me just enough to lead the way, his hand lingering at the small of my back. The cold night air hit me like a slap when we stepped outside, and I prayed silently that Matteo was ready, that nothing had gone wrong.
We walked in silence, the sound of my heels against the pavement the only noise. The farther we went, the more the dread in my chest swelled. Dante hadn’t said a word, but his grip on my wrist tightened as he guided me toward an unfamiliar part of the grounds.
“There’s something I want to show you,” he said finally, his voice low and dangerous.
Panic flared. This wasn’t part of the plan. Where was Matteo?
“I think we need to go back,” I said quickly, trying to pull away.
“Worried Matteo will be looking for you?” he asked, his tone mocking.
“Yes,” I said, my voice firmer. “I don’t trust you, Dante.”
He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Not long now,” he said, his smile razor-sharp. “I have a surprise for you.”
Before I could respond, he removed his mask, and the devilish smirk on his face stole the air from my lungs.
“Boys, it’s time,” he called out, his voice ringing through the night.
From the shadows, men in black suits emerged, dragging something-someone-between them.
I gasped as the figure came into view, bloodied and barely standing.
Matteo.
My heart stopped. My breath caught. And as Dante’s laughter echoed around us, I knew the game had changed.