Zara's POV
Viktor's scream echoed in my head as I dragged myself out of the underground river.
I couldn't go back. The gunshots had stopped, which meant either Viktor escaped or—
No. I couldn't think about that.
My hands shook as I pulled out the key he'd given me. Locker 47, Central Station. Everything I needed was there.
I ran through the tunnels until I found a ladder leading up to the street. Dawn was breaking, painting the sky pink and gold. A new day. The worst day of my life was finally over.
Except it wasn't over. Not even close.
Central Station was packed with morning commuters. I looked like a drowned rat—soaking wet, barefoot, covered in bruises. People stared. A security guard started walking toward me.
I ducked into the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and tried to breathe.
Viktor might be dead. Because of me.
My mother was murdered. By my own family.
And now I was supposed to steal a cursed ruby with a royal guard who wanted revenge.
This was insane.
But what choice did I have? Those men would keep hunting me. Marcus had destroyed my career. My stepmother had stolen my inheritance. I had nothing. No one.
Except maybe this Dante person.
I waited until the security guard passed, then slipped out and found the lockers. Number 47 was in the back corner. The key fit perfectly.
Inside was a backpack containing dry clothes, cash, a burner phone, and a thick manila folder.
I changed quickly in the bathroom—black jeans, dark hoodie, sneakers that were half a size too big but better than nothing. Then I opened the folder.
The first page was a photo of a man.
My breath caught.
He was beautiful in a dangerous way. Sharp jaw, intense dark eyes, black hair that looked like he'd run his hands through it too many times. But it was the expression that got me—cold, controlled, like he was carved from ice.
Dante Ashcroft, Age 29. Head of Royal Security.
The next pages detailed his life. Father executed for treason when Dante was twelve. Spent seventeen years working his way up through the ranks. Youngest head bodyguard in history. No close friends. No romantic relationships. Lived alone in a fortress of an apartment.
A man as alone as I was.
The rest of the folder contained museum blueprints, security schedules, and detailed information about the Blood Moon Ruby.
I sat on a bench and read every word.
The ruby was discovered three hundred years ago in the Crimson Mountains. A witch named Morgana had fallen in love with a prince who betrayed her. In her rage and heartbreak, she forged the ruby using dark magic and her own blood.
The curse was specific: anyone who stole the ruby would be bound to the next person who touched it. Their fates would intertwine. They'd feel each other's emotions, sense each other's location, share each other's pain.
They'd have thirty days to break the curse by completing three trials, or both would die.
The trials were listed:
Face your deepest fear together
Sacrifice what you value most
Choose love over survival
My hands trembled as I read the last page.
WARNING: Viktor Stone attempted theft on January 12th. Curse activated. Condition deteriorating rapidly. Estimated time of death: 7 days from activation.
Today was January 19th.
Seven days had passed.
Viktor was already dead.
The folder slipped from my hands. I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to hold back tears.
He'd known. When he sent me into that tunnel, he'd known he was going to die. He'd sacrificed himself to save me.
The burner phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered. "Hello?"
"Zara Moretti." The voice was deep, controlled, with an edge that made my spine straighten. "This is Dante Ashcroft. Viktor told me you'd call."
"Viktor's dead."
Silence. Then: "I know. I was there."
My heart stopped. "You were at the warehouse?"
"I got there thirty seconds after you fell through the floor. Watched them shoot him." His voice remained steady, emotionless. "He told me to let you go. Said you were more important than his life."
Tears burned my eyes. "Why didn't you save him?"
"Because there were six armed men and one of me. I chose to honor his last wish instead of dying uselessly." A pause. "We need to meet. Tonight. There's something about the curse Viktor didn't tell you."
"What?"
"It's already active."
The world tilted. "That's impossible. I haven't stolen the ruby yet."
"No. But I have."
My blood turned to ice.
"Three days ago, I stole the Blood Moon Ruby from the museum," Dante continued. "I was going to destroy it, end the curse forever. But the moment I touched it, I felt something. Someone. A connection I couldn't explain."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying the curse chose us before we even met, Zara. The ruby bonded us the moment I stole it. That's why those men are hunting you—not because you're a secret princess, though that's true. But because the curse marked you as my fated partner."
I couldn't breathe. "So we're already—"
"Cursed. Yes." His voice dropped lower. "We have twenty-seven days left. And if we don't complete the three trials together, we both die."
"But I've never even met you!"
"That doesn't matter to the curse." He sounded almost amused. "Magic doesn't care about logic. It cares about fate. And apparently, fate decided we belong together."
"This is insane."
"Agreed. Which is why we need to meet. Tonight. I'll send you an address. Come alone, tell no one, and Zara?" His voice turned deadly serious. "Bring a weapon. Because the people hunting you aren't the only ones who want us dead."
"Who else?"
"The person who really killed your mother. The same person who framed my father for treason." A pause that felt like lightning before thunder. "We're going after the Crown Prince himself."
The line went dead.
I sat frozen, the phone clutched in my hand.
The Crown Prince. Prince Adrian Valdor. The man who would be king.
He killed my mother.
And now I was cursed to work with a stranger to take him down.
The phone buzzed again. A text with an address and a time: Midnight. Old Chapel on Raven Street. Come ready to steal your birthright back.
Below it, one more message that made my blood run cold:
P.S. - I can feel your fear right now. Your racing heartbeat. Your panic. Get used to it, Princess. For the next 27 days, we're connected in ways you can't imagine. I feel everything you feel. And you're about to feel everything I am.
Including my rage.