The murders didn’t stop. Not just Vittoria. Other young women had died, all with signs of dark magic marking their bodies. Each crime felt like an echo of something bigger, a pattern Emilia couldn’t decipher.

—You’re not the only one looking for answers —Wrath said, leaning against a stone wall, observing the night with lethal calm.

Emilia glared at him.

—Who else is behind this?

Wrath smirked.

—Someone with more power than you think. And with more interest in you than you should allow.

She refused to answer. She couldn’t trust him… but she couldn’t leave him either.

Every encounter with Wrath was a push and pull. His words were riddles, his actions a constant challenge. But the most dangerous thing of all was the way his presence made her feel.

—Why are you helping me? —she asked one night after Wrath saved her from an unexpected attack.

The demon wiped the blood from his knife and looked at her with the intensity of a storm about to break.

—Because you amuse me, streghetta . And because if someone is going to destroy you, I’d rather it be me.