The iron gates shut behind her with a heavy clang, sealing her fate.
Luna's heels clicked softly against the marble pathway as she approached the mansion. Towering and cold, the estate loomed under the night sky like a beast waiting to swallow her whole. Every flickering lantern cast long shadows across the columns, and the roses in the garden, once red, now looked black in the moonlight.
Two men in tailored black suits flanked the entrance. They didn't speak, only opened the massive oak doors for her.
Inside, the silence was almost sacred.
Marble floors. Chandeliers that sparkled like frost. Paintings that screamed old money and blood ties. She had expected opulence this was a declaration of power.
"You're late," a deep voice echoed from the grand staircase.
Luna's breath caught.
He stood halfway down the stairs tall, sharp-jawed, and dressed in black. Damien Wolf. The man whose name was whispered like a warning across criminal empires. Cold grey eyes locked onto her with unsettling calm, as if he already knew everything about her.
"I wasn't aware I was expected," she replied, keeping her voice steady.
His lips curled into a half-smile. "A Cross is always expected. Especially when she's my bride."
Bride.
The word burned.
She raised her chin. "I didn't agree to this."
Damien descended the stairs slowly, each step measured like a predator approaching its prey.
"You don't have to agree," he said. "The arrangement was made before you were born. Your blood sealed it."
Luna's heart raced. She remembered fragments talks between her father and someone named Wolf. A promised alliance. A pact written in blood and sealed with her name.
"Why now?" she whispered. "Why drag me back after all these years?"
"Because war is coming," Damien said, stopping in front of her. "And you, Luna Cross, are the last piece of the board. Whether you like it or not, the game begins with you."
She stared into his eyes, searching for any flicker of softness.
There was none.
Only steel and fire.
And a vow.
He extended his hand.
She didn't take it.
"I'm not a pawn," she said
A dark chuckle escaped him. "No, Luna. You're not a pawn. You're the Queen."
Damien's eyes lingered on her, unreadable. A beat passed. Then two. And yet, he made no move to argue.
Instead, he lowered his hand.
"Good," he said at last. "I was hoping you wouldn't be obedient."
Luna blinked.
He turned and began walking down the long hallway, expecting her to follow. "Come. There's much you need to remember."
"I haven't forgotten anything," she muttered, stepping after him. "I just never wanted to remember."
They passed portraits of his ancestors men with sharp gazes and women with cold smiles. The kind of faces that never flinched, even when blood was on their hands. It felt like the walls themselves were watching.
"You lived in this house once," Damien said, his voice echoing slightly.
"I was a child," Luna replied. "And I was taken away for a reason."
He stopped. Turned.
"Your father hid you because he feared you'd be used," he said. "But in doing so, he made you weak."
Her eyes narrowed. "You don't know me."
A flicker of amusement passed over his face. "Not yet. But I will."
They reached a heavy door at the end of the corridor. He pushed it open, revealing a private study, its shelves lined with ancient ledgers and books in languages Luna couldn't read.
On the wall above the fireplace hung an old photograph two men shaking hands. Her father and Damien's.
An alliance. Sealed before she was even born.
"Everything you knew about your life ended the day that envelope arrived," Damien said. "You're not just Luna Cross. You're the last heir to a bloodline soaked in legacy and violence. That's why you're here. Not for me. Not for marriage. But for survival."
She swallowed, her throat dry.
"What if I walk away?" she asked.
He looked at her then really looked. "Then the people hunting you will have no reason to hold back."
Her chest tightened. "Who's hunting me?"
He turned toward the fire and poured two glasses of whiskey.
"People who want the Cross name buried for good. People who would gut this house, tear out its secrets, and smile while doing it."
He handed her a glass.
She didn't take it.
Instead, she stared him down. "And you? What do you want from me, Damien Wolf?"
He tilted the glass in his hand, watching the amber swirl.
"Your loyalty," he said simply. "And when the time comes your vengeance."
The fire crackled between them.
And Luna realized something chilling.
This wasn't the end of the game.
It was just the opening move.
Luna turned away from the fire, her eyes scanning the study. It smelled of old money and secrets leather-bound lies passed down through bloodlines. Every corner whispered of power carefully curated and ruthlessly protected.
"You act like you're doing me a favor," she said coolly. "Dragging me into a world I barely escaped."
Damien took a slow sip of whiskey, then set his glass down with a soft clink. "You weren't dragged. You were summoned. There's a difference."
She walked to the fireplace, her gaze catching on the photograph again. Her father's smile looked forced. Damien's father? Triumphant.
"How did he die?" she asked.
Damien's jaw clenched. Just slightly. "You don't remember?"
"Answer the question."
He stared into the flames. "Betrayal. A trusted ally turned on him. Your father was assassinated before he could strike first."
Her throat tightened. "And my mother?"
Silence.
Then, low and grave: "She died protecting you."
Luna swallowed hard. Memories flickered in fragments screams, blood, the scent of smoke. A lullaby cut short.
The room seemed to contract.
"I should've been left out of this," she whispered. "I should've stayed forgotten."
"But they never forgot you, Luna." Damien stepped closer, the warmth of the fire casting golden shadows over his face. "And neither did I."
She flinched. "You knew me?"
His gaze held hers like a vice. "You used to follow me around like a shadow. Wouldn't shut up unless I promised to teach you how to shoot."
Luna blinked. That detail so small, so specific sparked something deep in her chest. A forgotten laugh, a stolen moment in a bloodstained world.
The memory shattered as the study door burst open.
A man stormed in, dressed in black, a pistol drawn. His face was twisted with panic.
"Boss we've got a problem."
Damien turned, eyes narrowing. "What kind of problem?"
"They found the girl's old location. Someone torched it. No survivors."
Luna's heart stopped.
"My neighbors…"
The man shook his head. "Gone. All of them. Message was clear: Bring her back, or next time, we don't miss."
Luna's blood ran cold.
The walls of this mansion weren't just ancient they were closing in. Her past had caught fire, and now it was chasing her with a knife in its teeth.
Damien looked at her then. Not with pity. Not with warmth.
But with purpose.
"You don't have a choice anymore, Luna," he said. "Welcome home."