Page 86 of Lord of the Dark

Carter settled beside me on the back seat, resting his hand on my thigh and flashing me a broad smile that telegraphed just how much he was looking forward to the day. "Florence, Fiona," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I can’t wait to show you the city."

I offered a weak smile and nodded, leaning back into the seat asI watched Rome’s streets blur past through the tinted window. My heart felt leaden, the tension in my stomach unrelenting. Carter was so eager, so full of anticipation for this vacation—for our time in Europe. He saw this trip as a chance to mend what had frayed between us, while with every passing second, I only grew more acutely aware of how much I now despised what he was.

The drive out of Rome was smooth, quiet, yet humming with undercurrents of tension—at least for me. Carter seemed to savor the passing landscape, recounting all the things he’d read in the guidebook and the specific places he was determined to visit. His enthusiasm was infectious, but my thoughts weren’t truly with him. They kept circling back to Russo. His face, his touch, the way he looked at me as if he could read the depths of me. I tried to focus on Carter, on this moment, on our trip, but it was as though something inevitable kept pulling me in the opposite direction.

Before long, the city faded behind us, and the scenery began to shift. Rome’s urban sprawl gave way to rolling hills and vast fields where olive trees and grapevines glistened under the warm summer sun. It was breathtaking, the sky a brilliant blue streaked with wisps of cloud that looked almost painted. Tuscany was every bit as picturesque as I’d imagined. The endless green hills, the quiet winding roads leading us through quaint, idyllic villages—it was a stunning sight, one I would have reveled in under different circumstances.

"Look," Carter said suddenly, pointing to a row of cypress trees standing sentinel along a hill. "That’s the classic Tuscan view. Exactly what I’ve always dreamed of."

I nodded and forced another smile. "It’s beautiful," I replied, though my thoughts were miles away. Was he here? Which of these estates belonged to him?

The driver seemed barely aware of our conversation, focusedon navigating the gentle curves as soft music played in the background. Carter was absorbed in his guidebooks, mentally mapping out the days ahead, while I tried—and failed—to stay present. I wanted to be here. I wanted to enjoy this trip with Carter, to lose ourselves in this time together without anything intruding.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. The sudden sound sliced through my thoughts like a razor. Instinctively, I reached for it, fingers trembling as I pulled it out.

The screen lit up with the words: "I hope you’re enjoying Florence."

So simple, so unassuming—and yet so insidious. My breath hitched, my grip tightening around the phone as if I could crush the message out of existence. My pulse kicked into a gallop, a shudder rippling through me. He knew I was here. Of course he knew. Russo left nothing to chance. This wasn’t a greeting, not some polite gesture. It was a marker—a symbol of his control. I wasn’t even in Florence yet, and already, he had me in his sights.

I closed my eyes, wrestling back the surge of emotion threatening to drown me. The last three weeks had been hell. He’d left me hollowed out, nothing but the scars of his touch and his betrayal remaining. Every night, I’d fought against the darkness inside me, every hour a battle not to shatter under the weight of the pain. And I’d survived. Somehow.

I’d sworn never to let him back into my thoughts, let alone my life. I’d rebuilt myself, piece by fractured piece, clawed my way back—tried to become the Fiona I’d been before he’d torn me from my world with such ruthless precision.

But now, with those words on my screen, it all split open again. The wounds I’d so carefully stitched shut bled fresh. Part of me wanted to fling the phone away, ignore him, prove he had no power over me anymore. But another part… another part still felt that pull, that craving that made me seethe with self-loathing.

"Everything alright?" Carter asked beside me, his voice steady and soft, as always. He glanced over, utterly unsuspecting.

I curled my fingers around the phone before he could see the message. "Yeah, fine," I answered too quickly, forcing a smile. "Just a work email."

Carter nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the scenery. I watched him, guilt a leaden weight in my chest. He’d been my anchor these last weeks, his patience the only thing that kept me from unraveling completely. And I’d sworn to repay that—to be the woman he deserved. But now, in this moment, it felt like Russo was reducing all of it to ashes without even being here.

I looked at the message again. The words seared into my mind, his shadow settling heavy over my heart. But I wasn’t the woman I’d been three weeks ago. I’d learned to banish him from my thoughts, learned to be strong—or so I’d thought. So why were my hands shaking? Why was my heart slamming against my ribs like it was fighting for its life? The conflict was unbearable—the pain he’d carved into me, the hatred I felt for him and myself, and that inexplicable hunger, poison in my veins.

Still. I wouldn’t reply. Wouldn’t let him sink deeper into my mind. I had to stay strong. But the fact that I even had to fight not to respond proved just how thoroughly he still had me.

Carter pointed suddenly to a winery on the horizon, his voice bright. "Look—maybe we could stop on the way back, pick up a few bottles."

"Yeah, sounds good," I answered, my voice distant, hollow. The emptiness inside me yawned wider as my fingers clenched around the phone.

The Tuscan landscape rolled past in all its splendor, and I saw none of it. All I felt were the two forces warring inside me, relentless, and I didn’t know which would win.

The narrow streets of Florence were crowded with tourists, andthe majestic Renaissance buildings loomed over us as we wound our way through the city. While our driver took us to the hotel, my gaze remained fixed on the masses of people streaming past the streets.

The hotel Carter had booked for us was a jewel of Renaissance architecture, with magnificent facades and columns adorning the entrance. The porter opened the heavy wooden doors and greeted us with a charming smile as we stepped into the cool lobby. Marble floors, high ceilings, and intricate frescoes filled the space—it was the picture of a perfect vacation, yet I felt trapped. Trapped between Carter, who was eager to share this moment with me, and Russo, whose invisible presence hung over me like a dark cloud.

Carter handled the check-in while I lingered slightly apart, my phone clutched tightly in my hand. I had told Carter I felt dizzy, and he had accepted it without question.

"Rest," he had said tenderly. "I’ll explore the city and bring you something later." His eyes were full of understanding, and that only made it worse.

Now I sat alone in the luxurious hotel room, the heavy silence broken only by the occasional sounds of the city drifting through the half-open windows. My fingers gripped the phone as if it were my only tether to reality.

Anger rose in me—at Russo, at myself, at this unbearable situation. For three weeks, I had tried to banish him from my life. For three weeks, I had fought to suppress the pain and longing. I had almost succeeded. And now? Now it was all back, as if I hadn’t spent a single day away from him. Tears burned in my eyes, but I swallowed them down. He had treated me like a chess piece, used me and discarded me as if I were nothing. My body betrayed me. Refused to let Carter in, the rejection growing stronger with every attempt to close the distance between us.

When Carter finally returned to the room, his excitement shonelike a harsh light in my shadowed mind. "Florence is incredible," he gushed, recounting the places he had visited. His joy was genuine, contagious—but I felt numb.

I turned and caught my reflection in the window. My face was pale, my eyes wide, as if a demon had written itself into me. A demon that devoured me, destroyed me, yet never let me go.

"I have an idea for tonight," Carter snapped me out of my tormenting thoughts as he shrugged off his jacket. "A business contact reached out—he happens to be in town and suggested an amazing club. One of the most exclusive spots here. Perfect for getting out a bit and getting your blood pumping."

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