The Hunter in the Shadows

The note felt heavier than its weight, its words sinking into my chest like a stone. I read it over and over, hoping the letters would rearrange themselves into something less threatening, but they didn't.

"Who delivered this?" I asked Matteo, my voice steady despite the chill creeping up my spine.

"It was left at the gates during the early hours," he replied, his jaw tight. "No witnesses, no trace of who dropped it off. Our men are combing through the surveillance footage, but so far, nothing."

I folded the note and tucked it into my pocket. "We can't let Dante see this yet. Not until we know who we're dealing with."

Matteo frowned. "You know he won't like being kept in the dark, Elizabeth."

"I know," I said, meeting his gaze. "But if Dante sees this, he'll go on the offensive without thinking it through. Whoever this is, they want him to make a reckless move."

Matteo hesitated, then nodded. "I'll keep it between us for now. But we need to act fast. Whoever wrote that note isn't bluffing."

---

Strategic Silence

I returned to the house with Matteo, my mind racing. Dante was in his study, poring over maps and reports with his inner circle. His presence was commanding as always, his voice calm and precise as he issued orders.

When his eyes found mine, his expression softened. "Elizabeth," he said, his tone lighter. "Come here."

I approached him, and he pulled me into his lap. For a moment, the weight of the note in my pocket felt like a burning secret, but I pushed the thought aside.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face.

"Better," I lied, giving him a small smile. "What's the plan for dealing with Mikhail?"

Dante's gaze hardened. "Mikhail thinks he can take Ivan's place and challenge me. He's already gathering allies, but we'll cut them off before they can move against us."

I nodded, pretending to focus on the maps spread across the table. But my mind kept returning to the note. The words were haunting, a reminder that even with Dante's power and influence, we weren't invincible.

---

Unseen Threats

Later that evening, I slipped away from the estate to meet Matteo in the security room. The screens flickered with footage from the surrounding area, each camera offering a different angle of the gates, the drive, and the perimeter.

"Anything?" I asked, leaning over his shoulder.

Matteo shook his head, frustration evident in his posture. "The footage shows nothing. Whoever left that note knew exactly how to avoid detection."

"What about our contacts? Any whispers of someone new in the city?"

"There's a rumor," Matteo said slowly. "A man named Viktor. He's not part of the Bratva, but he's been seen meeting with some of their remnants. No one knows much about him—he's like a ghost."

"Viktor," I repeated, the name unfamiliar but unsettling.

"Dante will hear about him soon enough," Matteo continued. "But if Viktor has set his sights on you, we need to figure out why."

---

A Growing Rift

When I returned to the bedroom, Dante was sitting by the window, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked up as I entered, his gaze sharp.

"Where were you?" he asked, his tone casual but laced with suspicion.

"Checking on the staff," I said smoothly, kicking off my heels.

Dante didn't respond immediately, his eyes studying me as if searching for cracks in my story. Finally, he stood and crossed the room to me, his presence overwhelming as always.

"Something's bothering you," he said, his voice low. "Tell me."

I hesitated, my mind racing. Dante's intuition was razor-sharp, and I knew I couldn't lie to him. But I also couldn't let him see the note—not yet.

"It's just everything that's happening," I said, my voice soft. "Ivan's death, Mikhail's threats—it's a lot to process."

Dante's expression softened, and he pulled me into his arms. "You're stronger than you think, Elizabeth. You've proven that time and time again."

I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For now, the note would remain my secret.

---

The Message Unfolds

The next day, I woke early and found Matteo waiting for me in the garden. His expression was grim, and I knew he had news.

"What is it?" I asked, my stomach tightening.

"We found another note," he said, handing me an envelope.

This one was delivered directly to the estate and slipped under the kitchen door during the night. My hands trembled slightly as I opened it, the same red ink glaring up at me:

"I'm closer than you think. Watching. Waiting."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. "How did they get past security?"

"Still working on that," Matteo said. "But whoever this is, they're playing a dangerous game."

"Dante can't know," I said firmly.

"Elizabeth—"

"Not yet," I interrupted. "We need to figure out who's behind this before Dante tears the city apart looking for them."

Matteo nodded reluctantly. "We'll keep digging. But you need to be careful. Whoever this is, they're not just targeting Dante's empire—they're targeting you."

---

The Watcher's Move

That evening, as the estate settled into its usual rhythm, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every shadow seemed darker, every sound sharper.

Dante was in a meeting with his men, leaving me alone in the bedroom. I paced the room, the weight of the notes pressing down on me.

Suddenly, a soft knock at the door startled me. I turned, my heart racing.

"Elizabeth?" a familiar voice called.

It was one of the house staff, a young woman named Sofia. She stepped inside, holding a small box wrapped in plain brown paper.

"This was left at the front door," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

I took the box from her, my hands trembling. "Thank you, Sofia. That will be all."

As she left, I placed the box on the bed and stared at it, dread pooling in my stomach.

Slowly, I opened it, revealing a single item inside: a small, delicate locket.

I opened the locket with shaky fingers and found a photograph inside. It was a picture of me and Dante, taken during one of our rare quiet moments together.

Beneath the locket was another note, the same red ink glaring up at me:

"Your time is running out, Elizabeth. Choose wisely."