CHAPTER 1

Elena adjusted the ribbon tied to the small glass bottle that holds the latest order of the day. The golden liquid inside caught the evening light that filtered through the shop's wide windows. The perfume was a special request, a custom-made which had been ordered six months ago but no matter how and what she mixed, she couldn't get the right scent and shade. And now that she had succeeded, she couldn't be any happier.

She had always found comfort in the process of mixing fragrances; the elegant balance of floral and musky notes came together like a perfect symphony, concealing the hidden note the client had personally requested for. Although her family's florist shop had long since become a safe haven that shelters them from their past life as a powerful mafia family, the knowledge of plants, flowers, and their hidden uses still remained, passed down like a sacred legacy.

Her mother had always warned her to be careful with this knowledge, for the Delacroix were no longer the powerful family they once were. A tragedy had shattered that life—the deaths of her two older brothers had sealed their fate, leading to the downfall of their mafia influence and forcing them into an existence of quiet survival. The pain of the past still lingered in her parents' eyes, casting a shadow over their daily lives, though they never spoke of it outright.

Shaking off the weight of the past told to her, Elena carefully packed the perfume bottle into a small velvet-lined box, patted it gently with a smile as if it were her most favourite child. Slipping on her coat while leaving through the back door. She had a delivery to make.

--‐

The night air was crisp, each breath a reminder of the urgency in her steps. The club she was headed to wasn't just any club; it was a sanctuary for secrets, known for its exclusive clientele and the mysteries that often accompanied their orders. She checked the address once more before stepping into the alleyway shortcut she often took. The scent of damp earth and blooming night jasmine filled the air—comforting Elena as she walked with a full blown smile on her face and the packaged perfume cradled in her arms, her steps becoming lighter and relaxed.

She hadn't gone far when she heard the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the ground accompanied by low, painful grunt. The wet, sickening sound of a blade slicing through flesh was so sharp that all the hairs on Elena's body stood erect.

Elena's breath caught in her throat, her heart a wild drumbeat echoing in her ears as she willed herself to turn and face the horror unfolding before her. Just a few feet away, under the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, a man stood with his back to her, his suit pristine except for the dark crimson splattered across his sleeves. At his feet lay another man, unmoving. The scent of blood mixed with the perfume she carried, made her stomach churn.

A chill ran down her spine as the man turned slightly, his sharp profile momentarily illuminated by the flickering streetlamp. Her breath hitched, the man was bewitchingly beautiful. His exotic profile coupled with his dark, cold gaze, were in perfect sync that Elena thought that even Zeus couldn't match.

There was something unsettlingly magnetic about him, his cold eyes locking onto hers with a predatory intensity. But what terrified and confused her the most was the way his gaze flickered, widening —recognition flashing through them.

"Elena?"

Her name rolled off his tongue like a whisper, intimate yet chilling. He looked at her as if to confirm something before stepping forward.

Panic surged through Elena. How did he know her name? She had no time to find out. Years of her mother's warnings screamed in her head; Run. Don't look back. Clutching the perfume box to her chest, she took a shaky step backward before spinning on her heel and running.

She ran, her feet pounding against the pavement, each step fueled by the adrenaline coursing through her veins, not daring to slow or look back until the familiar sight of her front door loomed ahead, promising safety.

---

Elena bolted the door behind her immediately she entered her home, pressing her left side against the door as she struggled to catch her breath. Her heart pounded in her chest, the image of the bloodied man stuck in her mind. Who was he? And how did he know her name?

She forced herself to take deep breaths, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside her. Just as she turned from the door, her pulse spiked again as if high on drugs and her soul almost leaving her body when she saw a shadow move in the dimly lit hallway.

"Whoa, whoa! It's just me," a familiar voice said, amusement lacing his tone.

She exhaled sharply, her shoulders sagging in relief. "Rafael, you scared me half to death."

Her younger brother, Rafael, leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a teasing grin on his face that's looks so horrible to the current Elena. "You look like you saw a ghost, what happened?" "This isn't like when Luca followed you home, is it?"

Elena hesitated, the weight of the night's events pressing down on her "It's nothing," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just...the night air playing tricks on me."

Rafael narrowed his eyes slightly but didn't push. "How was the delivery?" he asked.

"It was fine." The lie slipped out without reserve, Elena quickly hid the undelivered perfume in the folds of her clothes in other to reinforce her lies, her hands clamping tightly around it. She really wanted to tell him, to share the terrifying moment when the stranger had spoken her name. But something inside of her told her to keep it to herself. Instead, she forced a small smile and shrugged. "Just another customer."

Rafael studied her for a moment before relenting with a sigh. "Alright, if you say so. But you should probably get some rest. You look exhausted."

She nodded, grateful he didn't press further. "Goodnight, Rafael."

"Hm" Rafael replied as he watched her move past him absentmindedly almost tripping herself.

As she climbed the stairs to her room, her mind replayed the events of the night recalling the man's bewitching face a contrasting detail with his bloody surroundings, his magnetic voice, and the way he had looked at her. There was something unsettling about it all, something she couldn't quite put into words.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the haunting images. It didn't matter, she said aloud to herself, though the words sounds hollow, even to her ears. She had to forget it, had to bury the memory deep, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of her resolve.

Slipping beneath the covers, she forced her eyes shut and willed sleep to come. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape the lingering scent of blood and the whispered sound of her name on the stranger's lips.

Meanwhile, in the heart of the city, Lorenzo DeLuca sat in his dimly lit office, an half burnt cigarette between his fingers, the haunting scent of Elena's perfume still clung to his skin almost like a brand.

"Elena…" He called as if it were prayer.

And this time, her name wasn't a question. It was a promise.