CHAPTER TWO: MARKED
885 Words
Elena pressed her palm against the cold bathroom sink, forcing herself to breathe.
She wasn’t cut out for places like La Notte. She wasn’t cut out for flashing lights, suffocating perfume, strangers pressing too close. She wasn’t cut out for shadows that seemed to watch her every move.
She just wanted Mia. Her friend had promised this night would be fun, promised Elena needed it. But Mia was nowhere to be seen. Gone, lost to the music, swallowed by the crowd. And Elena… Elena was alone.
She checked her reflection in the mirror, biting down on her lip. Her pale blue dress looked too simple compared to the glittering, barely-there gowns other women wore. Her hair, pinned loosely at the nape of her neck, was already falling out of place. She looked like a girl who had wandered into the wrong world.
Because she had.
She shook herself, squared her shoulders, and pushed open the restroom door.
And froze.
The two men in black suits were still there. They weren’t leaning casually, weren’t pretending to wait. They were standing like guards, eyes fixed only on her.
Elena’s breath caught in her throat.
They didn’t say anything. They didn’t move. But something about the way they stood, sharp and deliberate, made her instincts scream. She wasn’t imagining it. She wasn’t.
She turned away, hurrying down the hallway, desperate to blend back into the safety of the crowd.
But she didn’t get far.
“Elena.”
Her name. Spoken low, smooth, like velvet dragged across steel.
Her entire body went cold. She turned slowly, as though moving too fast might snap some invisible thread.
He was there.
Adrian Moretti.
She didn’t know his name yet. Didn’t know the bloodlines that ran through his veins, or the weight he carried in every darkened corner of the city. But she knew power when she saw it.
He didn’t walk toward her like a man. He prowled. His steps were measured, his presence sharp enough to bend the air. His black suit was tailored like armor, his expression unreadable, carved from shadow.
And those eyes.
They pinned her in place, deep and fathomless, swallowing every ounce of courage she had left.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
His voice rolled over her, quiet but heavy, like a command.
Her lips parted, but no sound came. She forced her throat to work. “I—sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for—”
“I don’t make mistakes.”
The way he said it made her shiver. Not arrogance. Not bravado. Just fact.
Adrian stepped closer, and Elena’s pulse stuttered wildly. His cologne—smoky, spiced, intoxicating—wrapped around her senses. She stumbled back a step, pressing against the wall, but he didn’t stop.
“You don’t belong in this world,” he said, his gaze raking over her slowly. “And yet… here you are. Alone. Unprotected.”
Elena hugged her arms around herself. “I was with my friend—”
“Your friend abandoned you the moment she walked onto that dance floor.” His tone was final, cutting. “You think anyone here would hesitate to take what isn’t theirs? You’ve already been noticed.”
Her stomach dropped. “Noticed?” she whispered.
His jaw tightened. He leaned in, lowering his mouth until his words brushed her ear. “Men are watching you right now, Elena. Men who would take you apart just to spite me.”
Her knees weakened, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. “Why… why would they spite you? I don’t even know who you are.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “You will.”
He straightened, and for one suffocating second, they just stared at each other. His gaze didn’t waver. Hers couldn’t escape.
Elena’s heart hammered. She hated how her body betrayed her—the way her breath caught, the way her pulse raced not only with fear but with… something else. Something hot and forbidden.
She whispered, “I should go.”
Adrian didn’t stop her. But he didn’t let her go, either. He turned, flicking his gaze toward the suited men waiting silently in the hall. His voice was calm, decisive.
“She’s marked. No one touches her.”
The words landed like a sentence, final and irreversible.
Elena blinked. Marked.
The meaning was lost on her, but the weight wasn’t. The way the men inclined their heads in obedience told her enough.
Before she could protest, before she could demand what that even meant, Adrian was gone. He slipped back into the shadows of the club, disappearing as if he’d never been there at all.
But she felt him. Every nerve in her body was still on fire, the echo of his presence clinging to her skin.
The men lingered just long enough to let her know the command would be obeyed. Then they too melted into the crowd.
And Elena was left standing there, trembling, her world tilting wildly off its axis.
She didn’t know what had just happened. She didn’t know who he was. But she knew one thing for certain: her life was no longer hers alone.
She had been noticed.
She had been chosen.
She had been marked.
And nothing would ever be the same.
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- Writer
