Adrian Pov:
The wine cellar smelled of old wood, dust, and blood. My guard lay motionless on the floor, a single bullet hole in his temple. His life was gone before he even had a chance to react.
"No one touches him," I said to Luca, my voice quiet but hard. "No one."
Luca glanced at the others standing behind him, eyes wide. "Sir… the others will know soon. They'll whisper. By morning, everyone will be talking."
I looked at him. "Let them. Let them know what happens when they betray this house. Let them remember. Fear keeps loyalty alive."
I touched the guard's cold chest. "You were loyal. You will not die in vain."
I stood up slowly, letting my eyes sweep the room. Shadows shifted. Men shifted nervously. They knew fear was necessary tonight. It was survival.
"Check the rest of the cellar. Every barrel. Every corner," I said. "I want no surprises."
Luca nodded and moved swiftly, signaling the other men to follow. I remained, staring at the lifeless guard. Someone inside the house had wanted me dead. Someone close. I would find them. I had no choice.
I entered the main hall. Silence fell immediately. Every eye in the room was on me. The men knew my father was dead. They knew I was in charge. And now, they needed to see if I was weak.
"Everyone here," I said, my voice low but carrying across the room. "Listen carefully. There is a traitor in this house. Someone thinks they can challenge Adrian Moretti. They will learn—they are wrong."
A young guard swallowed. "Sir… what should we do?"
"Find them. No mercy. No hesitation," I said. My gaze swept across each man. "This is my first order as your boss. Anyone who betrays the family… dies. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir!" they said in unison.
I paused, letting the silence stretch. "And remember. I do not kill the innocent. Only threats. But if you harm this family… even by accident… you will die."
A few men shifted uneasily. I let them. Fear was a powerful tool.
"Go. Check the house. Make sure every door, every window, every corner is secure. Follow my orders exactly."
They nodded and moved quickly, murmuring to one another. The first step toward asserting control was done.
The traitor was young, barely twenty. Sweat coated his forehead. His hands trembled as I pushed him onto a chair.
"Who sent you?" I asked, calm but deadly.
"I… I was paid… someone inside… my lord… inside the house," he stammered.
"Inside?" I leaned closer, voice low. "Do you know who?"
"No! I swear! I just… I just took the money!"
I slammed my hand on the table. The sound echoed through the room. Silence. Perfect silence. Fear had filled the room.
"Wrong answer," I said, leaning back slowly. "You've made a choice. And now… you pay."
He trembled, eyes wide. "Please… I'll tell you everything! Names… locations… I know!"
"Do it." I let my gaze pierce him. "Any lie. Any hesitation. And you die before you finish your confession."
He spilled the details quickly. Names, plans, even times of when attacks were scheduled. But he didn't know the mastermind. That shadow was still hidden.
I let him sweat a moment longer, silence stretching between us. Then I raised my gun. One shot. Clean. Precise. Terrifying.
He fell silently. His life ended, and the room understood: fear and respect were not separate—they were the same thing now.
Before he breathed his last, he whispered:
"The person… who paid me… is inside your circle…"
I clenched my fists. "I know," I said quietly. "And I will find them."
I didn't notice her at first. She had stepped into the doorway quietly, hidden by shadows. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene.
"Adrian… you don't have to—" she whispered softly.
I turned to her, icy. "This is my world now. You stay… or you leave."
She swallowed but stayed, pretending to support me. Foolish me… I wanted to trust her completely. That would be my weakness.
She was calm, innocent, loving… and possibly the most dangerous person in the room.
Marco leaned close, voice low. "Watch her," he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked sharply.
"I have a feeling… she's hiding something. Be careful."
"She's with me. You don't question that," I snapped.
"Not questioning. Just saying… someone close is dangerous. Trust carefully."
I dismissed him, but the warning lodged in my mind. Shadows were always watching. And someone in those shadows had already struck tonight.
The guard confessed everything. He tried to explain, to justify himself. I listened, impassive.
"I didn't know it would go this far… please, I only did what I was told…"
I raised my gun slowly. "You've made your choice. You pay the price."
One shot. Clean. The body slumped. The men around us understood. Obedience was life. Betrayal was death.
Before the young man died, he whispered again:
"The person… who paid me… is inside your circle…"
I stared at the ceiling, the words sinking. I had suspected it. Now it was confirmed. Someone close wanted me dead. Someone I might have trusted.
I stepped away from the body, breathing slowly. My mind raced. Father's death. Guards dying. Betrayal inside my house. And yet… I felt power like never before. I was no longer the boy Adrian. I was Moretti. I was the storm.
I walked to the balcony and looked out at the city lights. Beautiful, calm… yet beneath it, danger lurked. Every man, every woman, every whisper in the hall was a potential threat.
I poured a glass of wine, swirling it slowly. Marco appeared silently beside me.
"Tonight… you've sent a message," he said. "Fear and respect. They know now you are not a boy."
"They will remember," I said quietly. "And they will obey. Or die."
Marco's gaze drifted to the house. "And her?"
I clenched my jaw. "She stays. For now."
Isabella's POV
Later, when everyone was distracted, I didn't notice her slipping into the shadows.
She pulled out her phone. Fingers trembling, she typed quickly:
"He's ready to play the game."
Sent. And just like that, the next move was set. She had to survive. She had to protect herself. And in the process… she had put me in even more danger.
She looked toward the balcony where I had been minutes ago, silhouette strong, proud, untouchable. She wanted to run to me, to warn me, to hold me close. But she couldn't. Not yet.
The night swallowed her figure. And the game continued.
I walked through the hall, eyes sharp. The men avoided my gaze. They knew I was watching. The wine cellar, the traitor, the whispers—all were warning signs.
Isabella smiled at me, calm and innocent. Too innocent.
Someone close wanted me dead. I didn't know who. But one thing was certain: the first blood had been spilled. The war had begun. And I would not lose.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. Shadows moved. Eyes watched. And the storm had only just started.