Nikoletta Bellucci
The next day, Nikoletta sat by the window, wrapped in a soft blanket, warming her hands on a cup of coffee. Her gaze drifted over the streets of Rome as if she were searching for answers in the movement of the city.
She couldn’t shake what Nicholas had told her about the Remus wolves—about the violence, the disappearances, the way her beloved Eternal City was no longer safe.
Her phone suddenly buzzed. Unknown number.
“We need to meet.”
She frowned and quickly typed:
“Who is this?”
The reply came almost instantly.
“Your past. And your future.”
A cold shiver slid down her spine. Her fingers froze above the screen. She couldn’t explain it, but a tremor ran through her.
“I don’t meet with strangers. You have mistaken."
A pause. Then another message:
“I’m not mist
