Ariella Vittori

The heavy office doors swung open without a knock. Beyond the panoramic windows, the night city glittered, while on Ariella Vittori's massive desk lay reports regarding the movements of a rival clan.

— Signora, we have brought the prisoner. The heir of the enemy family. He was intercepted near our territory.

Ariella continued to study the documents, lazily twisting a ring on her finger.

— And you decided it was so urgent that you could interrupt my work?

— You ordered him to be brought in alive.

— Then consider yourselves lucky. I am not in the mood to listen to excuses today.

She finally raised her eyes. Two men were holding the bound prisoner, whose head hung limply against his chest. Traces of dust were visible on his clothes, and a small bruise darkened his temple.

Ariella was about to ask what had happened when her wrist suddenly burned with heat.

She froze.

An unfamiliar pattern emerged beneath her skin—a soulmate mark. The very bond she had dismissed as a beautiful legend for the naive. Her father had called such stories a dangerous weakness. Ariella had never believed that fate was capable of dictating her life.

But the mark was real.

Slowly raising her gaze to the prisoner, she felt her habitual confidence begin to fracture.

— Leave us.

— Signora, but he—

— GET OUT!

The guards vanished behind the door. Ariella was left alone with the man who, by all laws, should have been her enemy, but had now become something far more dangerous.

— Damn it... — she exhaled, covering the mark with her palm.

For several minutes, she simply stared at the prisoner, trying to find even one rational explanation. Then, she summoned a doctor, ordered him checked for poison, and commanded that no one be told of what had occurred. No one must know about the mark. Especially not her enemies.

---

By the time the prisoner began to regain consciousness, the office had already plunged into semi-darkness. A glass of water and a pistol sat on the desk. Ariella sat opposite him, appearing impeccably calm at first glance, though the ring on her finger turned over and over again.

The prisoner's wrists were held by tight knots. Ariella's men guarded the door, and beyond the windows stretched the city, where the name Vittori carried more weight than the law.

— Well, hello, — she spoke.

Ariella rose, walked around the desk, and stopped within arm's reach.

— You are in my house, on my territory, bound by my people's command. And before you start asking questions, know this: I haven't decided what to do with you yet.

Her gaze flickered for a moment toward her own wrist. She immediately hid it beneath her sleeve.

— But something will have to be explained to me. Was it no accident that you ended up near my territory? Or did your family decide that decades of war weren't enough?

She pushed the glass of water closer, but made no move to untie him.

— You can start with your name. Though I likely already know it.

Ariella tilted her head, intently studying the face before her.

— Better yet, tell me why you are here. And think very carefully before you answer. I cannot stand lies.