Damian Wolfe
I stood over my father's old vault, deep in the basement of the original Wolfe estate. The air down here smelled like stone and secrets. My security team had to cut through three layers of biometric locks to open it. I'd never cared to look through it before.
But Aria had changed the stakes.
The box was marked "CONFIDENTIAL – A.V."
I lifted the lid.
Inside: a contract. Faded photos. A gun. And a tape.
I fed the tape into the old machine, its gears whining like a beast coming back to life.
> "…You think Jonathan will cover for you again?" a voice—my father's voice.
>
> "He has to. The girl saw too much," came Alexander Vale's cold reply.
>
> "She's a child, Alex. Your child. What do you expect me to do?"
>
> A pause. And then: "Erase her. You've done worse for less."
The tape stopped. My stomach twisted.
Erase her.
Aria hadn't just been a casualty.
She had been a target.
And my father had nearly followed through with it.
I leaned against the cold wall, exhaling sharply. All this time, I thought she was coming for revenge. I didn't realize she was running from a ghost we both shared.
But now that I knew the truth…
There was no way I could let her walk away again.
---
Aria Vale
The knock at my door wasn't loud. It was deliberate.
I opened it, already on edge.
Damian stood there.
No guards. No mask. Just him.
And something heavy in his eyes.
"You need to see something," he said.
"I'm not in the mood for games tonight," I replied, though my voice didn't hold the same venom as usual.
"This isn't a game, Aria. Not anymore."
He handed me the file.
The one I'd just seen in my own home, mirrored in his hands.
"How did you get this?" I asked, heart hammering.
"I found what my father tried to bury. And I think your father helped him dig the grave."
We stared at each other, neither of us speaking. There was no more room for lies. Just truths with jagged edges, bleeding between us.
He stepped closer.
"We were both raised on broken stories," he said quietly. "But maybe… maybe we rewrite the ending."
I should've pushed him away.
Should've reminded him I was still at war.
But instead, I let him in.
And deep down, I knew—
This was where the real danger began.
---
Aria Vale
There's a certain silence that follows truth—a hush so loud it drowns everything else. That's what it felt like, standing in the Wolfe estate's private archive, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling shelves of secrets disguised as ledgers and contract binders.
I shouldn't have been here. But that hadn't stopped me before.
The Wolfe family didn't just build a business empire—they buried sins beneath it.
And now I was holding one in my hands.
The folder was cream-colored, unmarked except for the faded initials: V&E.
Vale & Everett.
My father's old company.
I stared at the name like it was a ghost, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. They told me his business was swallowed by the market. That he'd made bad investments. That it was a clean collapse. But this—this wasn't a market crash.
This was a kill order.
Before I could flip the page, I heard footsteps echo behind me.
I didn't have time to hide.
"Looking for something, little fox?"
His voice wrapped around me like smoke—low, amused, dangerous. Damian Wolfe leaned against the doorway like he owned the room. Like he owned me.
I turned slowly, meeting his gaze with mine. "Curiosity's a bitch."
He stepped closer, that cool mask never slipping. "And so are consequences."
"Are you threatening me, Mr. Wolfe?"
"I don't threaten. I warn."
Another step. His cologne hit me before his presence did—dark amber and clean spice. I hated how familiar it was becoming. I hated that part of me craved it.
His eyes flicked down to the folder in my hand. "You're playing with fire, Aria."
"I thought we already established I don't scare easy."
"No. But you bruise."
I didn't flinch, but I felt it—an ache behind the ribs, where his words found something raw.
He came closer, crowding my space. I refused to back up. He stared down at me like he was trying to read every thought I hadn't spoken yet.
"Why does that folder matter so much to you?" he asked, softly now.
I tilted my head. "Because maybe I like knowing what the empire you built is really made of."
"And if I said it was made of blood?"
"Then I'd say blood washes off easier than guilt."
For a beat, we said nothing. Just that stare—his dark and unreadable, mine defiant but trembling beneath the surface.
Then he did the last thing I expected—he reached out, gently sliding the folder from my grip.
And he didn't look angry.
He looked tired.
As he closed it, his voice lowered to something dangerously intimate. "This isn't a game you want to win, Aria."
I leaned in just enough to let him feel my breath. "Then why are you still playing?"
He held my gaze for one long, burning second—and then, without another word, he walked out, folder in hand, leaving me in the silence he'd broken with nothing but the weight of what I now knew:
Damian Wolfe wasn't just part of the story that ruined my family.
He might've been the one who started it.
---
Damian Wolfe
Control is an illusion. A beautifully dangerous one.
And I've mastered it.
In boardrooms, in back alleys, in the marble halls of this empire—people don't breathe unless I let them. They don't speak unless I tilt my head. They fear me, respect me… kneel for me.
But not her.
Not Aria Vale.
She prowls through my world like it belongs to her. Like my name doesn't burn on her tongue every time she says it. And the worst part?
I want her to.
I watched her long before she knew. She was the siren I saw through bulletproof glass—the woman who smiled like sin and negotiated like a man with nothing to lose. She was meant to be a threat, a pawn in an old, bitter war.
But pawns don't bite.
And Aria? She's drawing blood.
I ran my fingers along the edge of the folder in my hands. Vale & Everett. My father's signature bled across the pages—contracts forged in manipulation, in betrayal. Everything Aria is chasing... it starts here. And ends with me.
If she ever finds the rest, it'll destroy her.
I leaned against the bar in my penthouse suite, drink in hand, staring at the skyline. She was probably still in the archive, thinking I'd let her waltz in and find the truth. Thinking I didn't see this coming.
But I always see it coming.
Except her.
She's chaos wrapped in silk and vengeance. And I should end this before it gets any worse. Before it gets her killed.
But I don't.
Because somewhere between our lies and glances, I've started wondering what her body would feel like under mine with the truth between us. Not whispered. Not weaponized.
Just there.
The twisted part? I think she wonders the same.
My phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Jasper.
Jasper: She's digging too fast. You want me to handle it?
I stared at the screen for a long moment.
Damian: No. Let her think she's winning.
Because I don't need to stop Aria Vale.
I just need her to come close enough…
To realize
she was never the hunter.
She was always the prey.