CONSUMED BY ITS DARKNESS

PRELUDE

HUNTER IN THE DARKNESS

Silence.

Only the unsettling, chilling sound of silence pursued me as I tried to, walk-run, as fast as I could down the dark, dirty alleyway. I glanced over my shoulder more than once to make sure he wasn't following, but then I saw the silhouette of a shadow on the wall, and I knew it was him, coming for me.

Terror consumed me, and a silent scream choked in my throat. My bare feet pounded the icy pavement, each impact echoing like an endless drum. Tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with the sweat of fear, as I cursed myself for being trapped in this nightmare.

I ran, reckless of the noise, my bare feet slapping against the cold, dirty pavement, tears streaming down my face, cursing myself. I had to get out of here, I couldn't let him catch me. I had to escape, I couldn't let him get me. I couldn't! I couldn't!

"Run, run, run. Run as much as you want, little Elena." His laughter slithered through the darkness like poison. "In the end, no matter which path you choose, you'll end up in my arms."

A shiver ran down my spine at the sound of his voice. That voice I had once considered alluring now transformed into a shriek of terror.

"Why are you doing this?" I cried out, though deep down I knew the words were a futile attempt to understand his madness.

His laughter echoed, terrifying, like an echo of my worst nightmares.

"Isn't it obvious, little Elena...?" He paused, as if awaiting my answer, but I could only focus on keeping on running. "...Because you are mine. You've always been mine from the moment I saw you, and you always will be."

Suddenly, he emerged from the shadows like a predator stalking its prey. The collision was brutal, and I crashed against his chest. Dazed, it took a second for me to react, trying to shake myself free, but he wouldn't let go of me. My fists pounded his chest, but it was like hitting a stone wall.

"You can hit me all you want, little one. Just remember, monsters like me don't feel pain."

A choked scream was trapped inside me, a torment that throbbed fiercely.

"Don't do this, please... Let me go... I... " My voice trembled and broke, as did my hope of escape. I stood there, gazing at my distorted reflection on his black shirt, lamenting my recklessness, for not having called a cab at such a desolate hour. How foolish could I have been? "...You... You don't want to do this." I whispered, each word feeling useless.

"Oh, Elena, that's where you are wrong. I'm eager to do this." His voice twisted into a perverted shriek, while he chuckled softly. "Shhh, be still, I won't hurt you, my beautiful doll... Not much." The mocking tone in his words only magnified the terror consuming me. He brought his hand to my face, covering my mouth and nose with a cloth soaked in a dark, odorless liquid. Pain overwhelmed me, little by little, clarity clouded, everything turned blurry. I struggled with all my strength. But soon, my eyes closed and darkness claimed me, exhaustion vanquished my defenses, leading me to a place where fear became a distant echo...

The last thought I grasped before darkness, before the void, was the image of his eyes, blue as the arctic, piercing mine. Time vanished. Despair seized me. Would it all end here? Would it all end in this dark alleyway?

CHAPTER 1

ELENA

Traveling from Caracas to Milan would be a long trip, especially since I would have to make a stopover in Spain. Just thinking about it makes me uncomfortable; it's so many hours sitting on a plane… I can’t help but feel sorry for my backside. I finish packing my bags. I didn't plan to stay more than a couple of weeks, but I still needed a lot of clothes.

"You know you don't have to do this, right?" my mother’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. I turn my head to one side to see her better. Yes, just as I expected, she's crying again.

"Mom, we've already talked about this. Besides, I want to go visit him. How long has it been since we’ve seen Alejandro?" I ask as I move around the room, arranging everything.

"Yes, yes, I know. It's been so long since I’ve seen my son. But that doesn't mean you have to go. You can't..."

A chill runs through my body every time Mom brings up that topic again.

"No. I'm not running away from that crazy b*st*rd who tried to kill me! I'm not running away from the fact that I spent almost two months in a hospital bed in a coma! I can’t let that episode dictate my life, Mom! I can't." Tears stream down my face; I angrily wipe them with the back of my hand. "We've talked about this, please, no more."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know, Mom. But understand that I want to make this trip. I can't let the ghost of that man govern my life at will."

"You're right, go."

"Grecia will help you with everything you need. You’ll be fine." A few years ago, Mom and I decided to continue with the small restaurant left to her as an inheritance by her father. Nowadays, we owned seven restaurants, and although she is the main owner and I am just a minority investor, I also manage three of those locations. Of course, we have Grecia, the manager, among other people who have helped us a lot.

"Will you be here for the hotel opening?"

"I would say more of an inn. And of course, I will be here." I hug her.

"I love you."

"I love you more. Okay, let’s go. I’m running late, and I don’t want to miss my flight. I hope to arrive in Spain by morning or something like that. Honestly, I didn’t check the schedule."

Mom sighs in disagreement.

"Okay, okay, enough with the tears; nobody has died." Grecia's cheerful voice makes us laugh. The stunning redhead enters the room. "Let’s celebrate!" she sings, showing three glasses in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. Obviously, she had already drunk a few of those by herself.

"How many have you had, Gre?" I ask.

"Apparently, not enough." She pouts. "I'm going to miss you, little one." I hate being called that, but I only allowed her to do it. She was, of course, much taller than me, hence the nickname. She hands each of us a glass and fills them. "But enough of all this drama. Let’s drink!"

"One glass and that’s it, young ladies; remember you have to drive. And you—" she points at me—"you’re still taking medication, don’t forget." Mom reprimands. I smile.

One glass led to another, and another, and then another. By the time we realized it, we had finished the bottle and couldn’t stop laughing about everything; especially Mom, who was the first to say we couldn’t drink.

(####)

"I knew it! I knew this was going to happen!" Mom was somewhat hysterical because it was getting very late. The flight leaves at ten at night, and it’s already six in the evening. If we add to that the fact that we have to drive twenty minutes to the airport and then check in.

"Fernando is here!" shouts Gre, thrilled that her fiancé has arrived to take us. I can tell we are not fit to drive.

"God bless that boyfriend of yours," Mom says, stepping out of the house with one of my suitcases. I grab the other. Before leaving the house, I take an Alka-Seltzer. I grab my sunglasses and step out behind them.

I can thank the Almighty that we didn't crash because Fernando was doing his best to get us there on time, which he did. I say goodbye to him as I get out of the car, thanking him a thousand times and promising to bring him a gift from Milan. Gre and Mom help me with the suitcases. There were only two, but they are dramatic. I rush to check in, go through security, and board. Once everything is ready, three hours later comes the moment I have to leave; I say goodbye to Mom, who starts crying again.

"I'm going to miss you, daughter."

"Me too, Mom."

"Say hi to your brother for me. I hope he visits me soon."

"I will." I hug her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. I turn and do the same with Gre.

"Take care, Cuchu."

"Stop with the nicknames, Gre." I say with a smile.

"Never. And you know, if you meet a handsome Italian you like, you know what to do..." she whispers in my ear so Mom can’t hear. "Relax the pelvis and enjoy, Cuchu." I laugh because what she says is honestly funny.

"I'm going to miss you, crazy. I promise to write to you."

I say goodbye to them and board the plane that will take me on a few days of vacation and relaxation, free of stress.

(####)

"Sh*t!" I mutter, stretching my poor body, sore from sleeping too many hours; it was more hours than I thought, in the airplane seat. I look out the window beside me and realize it's nighttime. My heart races with excitement.

"I'm finally here!" I think, the hours were worth it.

I still have a slight headache. I sit up, grab my small suitcase, and follow the other passengers down the aisle to disembark. What is the worst thing about traveling for the first time to the country you've always longed for? Not knowing how to speak their language. I mentally kick myself a few times for being so stupid. I could only understand a few things, or rather, the basics.

Why did I insist on visiting Alejandro?

I take a slow breath, passing and dodging people, excited to see him. I manage to make my way out of the sea of people as best as I can and reach the airport entrance after getting my other suitcase. And that's when I see him: despite the darkness, on the other side of the street, leaning against a shiny red Mustang with his arms crossed over his chest. I smile happily, and without being able to prevent it, I run with my suitcase towards him; only to collide with a solid, strong body that appears out of nowhere. Honestly, I have no idea where he came from. I stagger backward a bit and thank God for my decision to wear flat shoes, but that still couldn’t prevent my imminent fall on the sidewalk.

The guy reacts as quickly as he can and immediately tries to grab me, but it’s too late. I find myself sprawled on the ground.

"Sh*t, can’t you watch where you’re walking?! I've been here not even ten minutes and I've already had my first fall!" I say to the man who extends his hand to help me up. I lift my head because the idiot isn’t saying anything.

My eyes travel a long stretch of pure chest and broad muscular shoulders, wrapped in a three-piece black suit, up to a beautiful, creamy olive skin showing at his neck, leading me to a firm, chiseled chin with a square jaw covered by a light beard. His lips, and God, what lips, are beautifully shaped and full. The man is tall; for me, almost everyone was tall, but I mean, he really is tall, 1.88 meters or maybe more. I couldn't say for sure.

But then I make the mistake of breaking my little spell by looking into those depths of ebony... so hungry for pain and thirsty for blood. So consuming. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen such a look, as dangerous as it is hypnotic. Still, my body shivers under his scrutiny, and I know I have to get away from him quickly and continue on my way. Then he opens his beautiful mouth, and all my determination goes out the window.

CHAPTER 2

ELENA

—¿Stai bene, piccola¹? —D*mn, who would have imagined that Italian sounds so s*xy coming from an extremely handsome man? Or is it just me and my imagination? (Are you alright, little one¹?).

The man still has me gripped; time seemed to have stopped or hours had passed instead of seconds.

—Marco, no. Conosco quello sguardo, lascia andare la ragazza². —Another man, also dressed in a suit, but more fashionable, approaches him on one side, whispering. As if he could understand anything more than certain words taken here and there. (Marcus, no. I know that look, let the girl go²).

—Mi assicuro solo che la bambina stia bene³. —I'm almost sure I understood that, but I still can't find my voice to ask him to let me go. (I'm just making sure the little girl is alright³).

—È chiaro che lei non capisce quello che dici⁴. —They keep talking as if nothing is happening. (It's clear that she doesn't understand what you're saying⁴).

—No, of c