TAKEN BY A GHOST

Rain wasn’t supposed to feel this heavy. It fell in sharp, endless sheets, soaking through Amara Bello’s thin hoodie as she hurried down the empty street, her sneakers splashing through shallow puddles. The streetlights flickered above her, casting weak, trembling shadows that made everything feel… off. She tightened her grip on her bag. “Just get home,” she muttered to herself. It was late. Too late. Her shift at the small café had dragged longer than expected, and now the usual bus route was closed off. So she had taken a shortcut. A stupid shortcut. The kind people warned about. Amara exhaled sharply, brushing wet strands of hair from her face. The road ahead looked unfamiliar—quieter than it should be. No passing cars. No voices. Just the rain… and something else. Something that didn’t feel right. Then she heard it. Voices. Low. Sharp. Dangerous. She froze. They weren’t close—but they weren’t far either. Just beyond the rusted gate of an abandoned warehouse sitting crookedly at the end of the street. Amara swallowed. Not your business. Her instincts screamed at her to turn around. To leave. To pretend she heard nothing. But curiosity—reckless and stupid—pulled at her feet. Just one look. That was all. She stepped closer, her heart beginning to pound as she approached the slightly open gate. The metal creaked softly when she pushed it, just enough to slip through. The voices grew clearer. “…thought you could betray me?” A man’s voice. Calm. Too calm. Amara’s breath hitched. She moved slowly, carefully, until she reached the edge of the warehouse opening—and peeked inside. And everything in her body went cold. Men. At least six of them. Dressed in dark clothing, standing in a loose circle. Guns. Real guns. Her chest tightened as her gaze dropped— Blood. There was someone on the ground. Barely moving. Amara’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp that nearly escaped. Oh God. She shouldn’t be here. She needed to leave. Now. But then— He stepped forward. And the entire atmosphere shifted. Amara didn’t know how to explain it, but the moment he moved, every other man seemed to… fall back. Not physically. But in presence. Like he owned the air they breathed. He was tall. Dressed in black. Rain clung lightly to his dark hair, but it didn’t soften him. Nothing about him looked soft. His face was unreadable—cold in a way that didn’t feel human. He crouched in front of the man on the ground, tilting his head slightly. “Look at me.” His voice was quiet. Controlled. Terrifying. The man on the ground whimpered. “I—please—” A gun clicked. Amara flinched. “You made a mistake,” the man in black said. “And mistakes… have consequences.” Amara’s heart slammed violently against her ribs. She couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t just dangerous. This was death. She took a small step back. Then another— The ground shifted beneath her foot. A sharp sound echoed. Loud. Too loud. Silence followed. Complete. Heavy. Amara’s entire body went rigid. Slowly—so slowly—it felt like time itself was dragging— The man in black lifted his head. And turned. His eyes found hers instantly. Dark. Empty. Unforgiving. Amara forgot how to breathe. For a moment, neither of them moved. The rain filled the silence between them. Then— “Who is that?” one of the men snapped. Footsteps. Coming closer. Panic surged through her veins. Run. But she couldn’t move. Those eyes held her in place. Cold. Sharp. Watching. Calculating. Like she was already dead… and he was just deciding how. He stood to his full height. Still looking at her. Always looking at her. “Come here.” Her stomach dropped. She shook her head immediately, stepping back. “I—I didn’t see anything—” “Come here,” he repeated. Same calm tone. But this time… it wasn’t a request. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. “I swear, I won’t say anything. Please, I—” Two men grabbed her arms before she could finish. Amara let out a small cry as they dragged her forward, her feet slipping against the wet ground. “No—please—please—” They forced her inside. Closer. Closer to him. Her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest as they shoved her to her knees in front of him. Up close… he was worse. Much worse. His presence was suffocating. He stared down at her, expression unchanged. Unmoved. Like her fear meant nothing. “Look at me,” he said. Amara hesitated. “I said… look at me.” Slowly, trembling, she lifted her gaze. Big mistake. Those eyes— They weren’t angry. They weren’t even cruel. They were empty. And somehow, that was worse. “She heard everything,” one of the men said. “We should just—” “No.” The word cut through the air instantly. Amara blinked. Confused. The man—him—tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was something unfamiliar. Something out of place. “You’re not running,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. Amara swallowed hard. “I—can’t.” Something flickered in his eyes. Small. Gone too fast to understand. “Most people would.” “I’m not most people,” she whispered, her voice shaking despite the words. Silence. A long one. Then— “Take her.” Amara’s breath caught. Her head snapped up. “W-what?” He had already turned away. Done with her. Like her fate had been decided in a single second. “Wait—please—where are you taking me?!” she cried as the men pulled her back to her feet. No answer. Just movement. Force. Control. She struggled weakly. “I didn’t do anything! Please, I have a family, I—” “Quiet.” His voice. Behind her. Still calm. Still cold. “But—” “If you want to stay alive,” he said, not even looking at her, “you’ll stop talking.” The words sliced through her. Clean. Final. Amara’s voice died in her throat. Tears slid silently down her cheeks as they dragged her toward the exit. Toward a life she didn’t understand. Toward a man she should have never met. And behind her— Without turning— Without hesitation— Luca Moretti spoke one last time. “From this moment on…” A pause. Heavy. Unavoidable. “You belong to me.”