Dark Paradise

I moved swiftly through the shadows toward the ancient stone fortress in Valera, Italy, every step calculated to avoid detection. Trust had become a rare commodity, and I'd long since learned the dangers of letting my guard down. As the sun hovered near the horizon, casting long golden streaks across the cobblestones, I slipped into a narrow alleyway, heading toward a hidden entrance used by the fortress guards.

I didn’t hesitate. With a graceful leap, I disappeared into the darkness of the concealed passage. The fall was brief, and I landed with practiced precision on uneven stone flooring. The air was thick and damp, carrying the faint scent of moss and age. My sharp senses guided me forward—I could smell them nearby. My eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness, and within minutes, I found myself in the fortress’s opulent main lobby.

The space was unexpectedly bright, elegantly furnished with marble floors and gilded columns. A human receptionist, seated at a sleek desk, typed away on a computer with an air of practiced indifference. Dressed impeccably in a gray pantsuit, her hair pulled into a neat bun, the woman greeted a group of tourists led by a pale, statuesque guide through heavy double doors that closed behind them with an ominous thud. I caught a glimpse of dark hair and a flash of crimson eyes before the doors sealed.

"Ciao, come posso aiutarla? Non dovrebbe essere con il gruppo?" the receptionist asked, her polite smile unwavering as she turned toward me, who had emerged unnoticed from the hidden passage.

My gaze swept the room, noting an elevator tucked discreetly into a corner. There had to be another passage somewhere in the city that led directly to it. The receptionist’s voice cut through my thoughts.

"Signorina?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "English, please," I said, shrugging off my jacket. "When they’re finished, tell Lord Elian that Mercy is waiting in his office." Without waiting for a response, I strode confidently down a corridor, ignoring the receptionist’s protests. I felt entitled to move as I pleased—after all, Elian owed me a favor. And when someone like Elian owed you, it meant something.

The office was exactly what I expected: dark, meticulously organized, with walls lined with ancient tomes and artifacts. Papers were strewn across the mahogany desk, each one meticulously inscribed with cryptic notes. I scanned the documents briefly, my sharp mind parsing the information for anything that might hint at whether Elian already knew what I had come to share.

Information that could save not only the Valeran Council but perhaps the entire world.

It was information that would give Kane Whitaker nightmares—if he slept.

I knew Kane well, along with the rest of the Whitaker clan. They were the reason I was here now. Despite their disdain for the Council, they had insisted this was the safest place for me. I hoped they were right. Trusting vampires who thrived on secrecy and power struggles never sat well with me—especially given my line of work and deeply ingrained mistrust of anyone outside my tight circle.

The door creaked open, and Elian entered with a practiced elegance, his presence commanding yet unsettling. His dark hair framed a face that many found charming but I found unnervingly calculated. His smile, meant to be warm, came across as anything but.

"Mercy," he greeted, clasping his hands together. "It’s been far too long." He gestured toward a chair. "What brings you to Valera?"

I remained standing, my blue eyes cold and resolute. "I have information," I stated bluntly. "But before I share it, I need your agreement on something."

Elian arched a brow, intrigued. "And what would that be?"

"Protection," I said firmly.

Elian’s expression shifted to one of curiosity. "Protection?" he echoed. "What kind? From whom?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "The kind that keeps me breathing," I said. "You’ll want to hear what I have to say. But I need your word first."

Elian regarded me carefully, his lips pursed in thought. My agitation was palpable, and that alone set off warning bells in his mind. I was not easily shaken—he knew that from experience.

"You have my word," he finally said.

I visibly relaxed, though only slightly. I took a steadying breath. "The Central American Covens," I began. "They’re preparing for war. They’re keeping it quiet for now, but they’re turning people again—like in the old days. I don’t know exactly who’s orchestrating it, but I have a hunch, and I bet you do too." I paused, letting the gravity of my words sink in. "They want to overthrow everything—our world and the human one."

Elian’s expression darkened. "And the Director?" he prompted.

I nodded grimly. "She’s on their side. She’s tired of living in the shadows. She wants the world to know what we are—to stop hiding. I’m not even supposed to know about this. I’m not supposed to be alive."

Elian stood perfectly still, processing my words. I was many things, but a liar was not one of them. This was serious—perhaps more dangerous than anything they’d faced before.

"Stay here," he commanded before disappearing in a blur of movement.

I barely had time to process his departure before he returned, this time accompanied by a tall, dark-haired young man with a fierce gaze. Despite his youthful appearance, I knew better—his crimson eyes marked him as a predator far older than he appeared.

"Cassian, I need you to escort Miss Bennett," Elian instructed. "Ensure she’s clothed properly and tend to that wound on her arm." His eyes flicked to the gash on my arm, blood staining the fabric of my sleeve. I hadn’t even noticed it. "You are to keep her in your sight at all times."

Cassian’s attention lingered on me, his expression unreadable but intense. Despite myself, I felt a flicker of unease—and something else I couldn’t quite name.

"If you try to bite me," I warned evenly, "I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to you."

Cassian blinked, then smirked faintly. "Noted," he said, extending a hand to guide me from the room.

I didn’t take it, but I followed him nonetheless, my guard never lowering for a second.

Chapter two

I followed Cassian through the dim corridors of Volera, my sharp gaze locked on the back of his head. I had insisted he walk in front—I didn’t trust him in the slightest. Despite the clear annoyance etched on his features as he constantly glanced back to check if I was still following, he remained silent, only grunting once when I accidentally collided with his back after catching my heel on a jagged piece of stone.

That fleeting contact left me bewildered. He smelled like any other vampire—icy, sharp, and ancient—yet something about his scent tugged at my senses, a strange blend of danger and allure, intoxicating like expensive cologne lingering in the air.

The walk felt endless even though it had only been about twenty minutes of twists and turns through shadowed hallways lined with other vampires. I struggled to memorize the path back to Lord Elian’s office in case I needed a hasty escape, but it was a hopeless maze. Th