PROLOGUE
VIVIAN
The scream that pierced the air raised the hair on the back of my neck. At first, I thought it was one of the spectators, some crazed sicko getting off on the blood and tears of others. But then, it hit me—I was the one screaming. The sound tore from my throat, ragged and desperate. It was my voice that was begging and pleading. It was my voice that sounded so shrill and raw.
“Stop! Please! Let him go!” I was on my knees now, my fingers scrabbling over the cold, blood-slicked stage. Tears streamed down my face, hot against my skin as I sobbed, the world around me turning into a blur of dark shapes and harsh laughter. “He’s just a boy! He’s only eighteen! You can’t do this! He didn’t know. He doesn’t belong here!”
I couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be real. Itcouldn’tbe happening. What the fuck had gone wrong? Will had spent countless sleepless nights perfecting his algorithms. How had they failed him? There was no way those other contestants had cracked that riddle legitimately. It had to be rigged. A setup. Some twisted game Will had unknowingly stepped into, and now it was going to cost him his life, all in the name of entertainment.
I stared at Ciro, willing him to remember me. He’d taken an interest in me one night several months ago when Vincenzo had requested Celeste and I attend a meeting with him. Although, he probably targeted many women, and my face was just one of many in a sea of whores he likely used and tossed to the side—or worse.
Beside me, Will trembled, his eyes wide with terror, his face so pale it looked like the life had already left his body. My heart clenched painfully at the sight. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let them take him. Not after everything we’d been through. Not after all the years I had kept him safe, the nights I’d spent convincing Roberto to take Will in when he had no one. I had promised myself I would protect him, that he’d have a chance at more than the shitty hand life had dealt him.
“Take me instead,” I pleaded desperately, turning my tear-streaked face to Ciro, to the executioner, to anyone who would listen. “Please... I’ll take his place. I’ll do whatever you want. You can kill me if that’s what it takes. Just let him go!”
But the crowd... Gods, the crowd. They were laughing, their eyes gleaming with perverse delight, their cheers slicing through my hope.
“Kill them both,” someone jeered. “Let’s see if her screams are sweeter than his!”
My vision blurred, and my chest was so tight I could barely breathe. Each sob tore out of me. I had never felt so helpless, so utterly broken. I was pleading for mercy, but it was like throwing pebbles into a stormy ocean—nothing came back but cold, cruel indifference.
I turned back to Will. He had no idea what to do. There was no way out. Fuck. This was my fault. I should have stopped him. I should have known better. I should have kept an eye on what he was working on all those late nights when I fell asleep in frontof the TV and woke to the sound of him clacking away on his laptop.
The guilt threatened to crush me as I kept screaming, kept begging until my voice cracked. My knees ached from the hard floor, but it didn’t matter. Not when Will’s life was on the line.
Then everything stopped.
The air went still. The raucous cheers and jeers died down to a murmur. A sudden, oppressive silence fell over the hall, and every eye turned toward the center aisle. My heart skipped a beat. A thick, black cloud swirling like smoke glided toward the stage. The crowd parted, their excitement tempered with fear.
Oh, fuck. I knew exactly who that was.
The Shadow.
1
THE SHADOW
Twenty-four hours earlier
Istood on the balcony high above the rolling hills of my territory and let my gaze drift across the expanse that no one beyond these borders could ever truly appreciate. Out there, beneath layers of meticulously crafted illusions, the world believed my domain was a desolate wasteland. It was a deception I had carefully woven over the centuries—a cloak of darkness that kept The Below’s relentless factions at bay.
If they only knew the truth.
The landscape was anything but barren. Instead, verdant hills spread as far as the eye could see, and lush greenery stretched into the horizon. The scent of wildflowers and salt from the distant sea filled the air, and the faint sound of waves crashing rhythmically against the hidden cliffs reached my ears.
It was a sanctuary, this place I’d painstakingly kept hidden from prying eyes. My realm was an oasis of beauty, a refuge away from the decay and treachery of The Below. Yet to outsiders, it was nothing more than a nightmare shrouded in eternal mist and shadows.
And it had to remain that way. Power, I had learned, did not flourish in the light. It thrived in the darkness, where secrets were well kept.
As I stared at the picturesque landscape, a familiar weariness settled in my bones. The last three months had been particularly grueling with my every waking moment consumed with a puzzle that haunted me.
I turned away from the balcony, the fading light casting long shadows behind me as I stepped back into my master suite. A grand mirror, taller than me, stood against one wall. Its gilded frame was a relic from an age long past, yet it gleamed as though it had been forged yesterday. I approached it slowly, my reflection—a swirling mass of black clouds that concealed my true form—shifting and distorting in the smoky glass. This was how the world saw me: an embodiment of darkness, my identity shrouded in the endless veil of shadows that clung to me.
I hated it.
I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white. With a flick of my wrist, I commanded the shadows to part. The dark tendrils reluctantly dissipated, revealing the man hidden beneath, and I looked at my true self. Tousled and unruly dark hair framed a face that could have been carved from marble. My jaw was sharp, my features severe, and my skin was a sickening shade of white.
My eyes, however, were the part I detested the most.
