The Scandal of the Shadow Feast spread swiftly through the halls of the clans.
No one knew exactly what Selene had said to the heiress of the Acheron Clan — but the whispers were venomous.
The elder women gossiped over teacups laced with intrigue, while the younger ones giggled discreetly at the mention of the name Valtieri.
Selene heard it all.
With every whisper, every stifled laugh, her blood boiled like the shadows crawling beneath her skin.
The final straw was hearing that Dante had spent the rest of the night beside Elowen Acheron — under the silent approval of the matriarchs.
— "That bitch thinks she can expose me and walk away unscathed?" — Selene growled, alone in her chambers.
---
The next morning, Selene rode like a storm breaking loose across the eastern hills, where the Acheron estate lay.
The mansion was a black fortress framed by pale marble columns, and the clan's crest — a crimson rose wrapped in thorns — bled beneath the gray morning light.
The guards hesitated at the sight of her, but stepped aside.
No one dared to defy a Valtieri.
Elowen awaited her in the main hall, lounging arrogantly on an onyx-carved chair.
She wore a wine-red robe and toyed with a glass of liquor.
Her smile was poison wrapped in expensive perfume.
— "Did you come to thank me for the party?" — she asked with a mocking wink.
— "No. I came to ask what kind of serpent hides behind that fake smile."
Elowen laughed, slowly crossing her legs with provocative grace.
— "The kind you're afraid got to Dante first."
Selene didn't flinch.
— "Yes... He was mine before he became your nightmare. I was the first. His touch wasn't so cold back then. You arrived too late, wilted flower."
— "You'd spread your legs for a breeze, Elowen."
— "Oh, darling..." — she said, rising and stepping closer — "And still, he came back to me. Maybe because with me, he doesn't have to hide who he is."
The slap cracked through the room like a whip.
Silence.
Two guards stepped forward, but a lazy voice stopped them:
— "Well, well... what do we have here?"
A young man stood in the doorway — lean, red-haired, his hair tied in a low tail, his grin sharp, his gaze languid.
Elowen's brother. Damien Acheron — the future lord of the clan.
— "The infamous daughter of the Shadow Clan. Even more beautiful when she's furious."
— "Stay back, worm."
— "As polite as they say. You should smile more, Selene. Or cry... I enjoy both."
Elowen laughed beside him.
Selene couldn't take it anymore. She stormed out, throwing the doors open with violent force, her eyes blazing, her throat tight with rage and pride.
---
Outside, the rain had begun to fall — soft at first, like the calm before a storm.
That's when she ran into Baltazar.
His protective gaze immediately read what her silence couldn't hide — chaos, vulnerability, and humiliation.
— "What did she do to you?" — he asked, gently touching her shoulder.
Selene didn't answer. But she didn't pull away either.
Baltazar took her gloved hand, firm but careful.
— "You don't have to face this alone. If you want, I—"
A thunderclap. A horse's wild whinny.
Then came Dante.
Mounted on a black beast, he dismounted without a word.
His amber eyes burned like embers that refused to die.
With long, silent strides, he approached, seized Selene by the wrist, and yanked her toward him.
— "Let go of her!" — Baltazar stepped forward.
— "She's my fiancée," — Dante growled. — "And I didn't ask for your opinion."
— "You have no right—"
Dante's glare froze the very air.
— "And you have no place here."
Before either could react, Dante lifted Selene with brutal elegance and threw her onto the horse as if she were weightless as a shadow.
He mounted behind her, his grip on her waist tight and possessive.
— "Let me go!" — Selene shouted, struggling.
— "I've looked the other way long enough," — he whispered against her ear. — "No more getting close to anyone but me."
— "You don't command me!"
— "Don't I?" — The horse galloped forward, his arm locking around her.
— "Let's see if you still think that when we're alone."
Selene hated how her skin burned under his touch.
How her heart pounded — with rage, with fear… and something else she would never admit, even under torture.
The rain fell harder, as if the sky itself tried to cleanse the madness.
But nothing could wash away what was beginning to take root: something dangerous, dark, and inevitable — like the night itself.