TWELVE.

Marwa.

The moment I stepped back into my room, a heavy sigh escaped me. Peace. Or at least, the illusion of it. This godforsaken place had drained every ounce of energy I had. My body screamed for the comfort of my bed, but there was no rest for the wicked.

I kicked off my joggers and tossed the hoodie onto the chair by the window, collapsing onto the mattress. The cool sheets against my bare arms should have been soothing, but all I could think of was the damn tension from dinner. The way Victoriano had watched me like I was a puzzle he couldn't figure out, like I was some kind of mystery he needed to solve.

I couldn't be bothered to think about him.

Fuck him. Fuck his staring. Fuck this entire situation.

I shut my eyes, willing sleep to take me—at least for a few hours of peace.

But peace was a goddamn illusion.

A sharp knock at my door made my pulse spike. I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. Whoever it was, they were fucking lucky I didn’t throw something at their fat head. "If it’s not an emergency, come back in the morning," I muttered, my voice muffled by the fabric.

Silence.

Then another knock.

Fucking hell.

I dragged myself out of bed, shuffling toward the door and swinging it open with more force than necessary. “What the hell do you—”

Victoriano stood in the doorway, his imposing frame filling the space. Arms crossed, dark blue eyes scanning me from head to toe as though he had every right to. As though he owned me.

My patience? Nonexistent as I barked at him. “What do you want?”

A slow, infuriating smirk spread across his lips. “You left dinner early.”

“And?”

“And,” he drawled, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into my space, invading it like he knew no one would dare stop him, “that was rude.”

I didn’t flinch. “Cry me a fucking river.”

His eyes narrowed, the playful edge in them disappearing. “You don’t walk away from me, Farfalla.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Oh? And what are you gonna do about it, Martinez?”

He stepped closer, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle ticked in his cheek. His pupils full blown. “You don’t want to find out.”

My breath hitched at the proximity, but I masked it with an equally provocative smirk. “Big talk. Empty threats. Yawn.”

For a moment, his gaze lingered a little too long, and I had the sudden, uncomfortable realization that I was standing there in nothing but a tank top and underwear. But I wasn’t going to let him see me flinch. Instead, I mirrored his stance, leaning against the doorframe, refusing to give an inch.

His jaw tightened. Good.

“Go to sleep, Marwa,” he muttered, voice dark and dangerous, a warning, a promise.

“Gladly,” I shot back. “If you’d get the hell out of my doorway.”

He hesitated, like he was weighing something, before stepping back. His lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Sleep tight,” he said, voice thick with something I couldn’t place, then turned and walked away.

I slammed the door shut, locking it for good measure, then exhaled sharply, my heart still pounding.

This was going to be a long fucking stay.

I tried to lie down again, but the adrenaline had kicked in. My pulse was still erratic, my mind racing from the brief but intense encounter. I wasn’t stupid—I knew what Victoriano Martinez was. He was a storm wrapped in a sharp suit, a force of destruction who knew how to wield his power. Used to getting what he wanted, used to bending people to his will. But I wasn’t one of those people.

Yet, despite everything—despite my hatred for him, for what he represented—there was a part of me, deep down, that reacted to him in a way I hated. A flicker of something I couldn’t control.

I clenched my fists. Fuck.

But this wasn’t about Victoriano. This was about the snake hiding in the grass. Someone within my own circle was trying to tear everything I’d built to shreds. And I was going to find out who the hell it was—no matter what it took.

My father had left me an empire, and I’d burn the world down before I let someone else take it from me.

The twins were a problem, no doubt. A dangerous distraction. But they also held power. They had connections I needed, things I couldn’t ignore. Whether I liked it or not, I might have to use them to uncover the truth. But that didn’t mean I had to like it. Or them.

As I rolled over onto my side, my mind ran through all the moves I had to make, all the pieces that needed to be shifted. I had to be strategic.

One thing was clear—whoever had betrayed me, whoever had crossed me, was going to regret it.

Because I was coming for them. And I wouldn’t stop until I buried them myself.

Just as I closed my eyes, my phone buzzed. Unknown number.

I hesitated, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

I answered.

A distorted voice rasped through the speaker. “You’re too late, Xavier. The game has already begun.”

A violent, ice-cold dread surged through my veins, gripping me in a suffocating vise.

Then the line went dead.

Adrenaline surged through me. I sat up, clutching the phone like it was a lifeline, my heart racing.

Without wasting a second, I grabbed my laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as I fired up a tracing program. Whoever this was, they’d made a mistake by calling me. I’d spent years perfecting the art of tracking people, finding those who didn’t want to be found. And if they thought I’d let this slide, they were dead wrong.

The trace bounced across multiple locations. Paris. New York. Tokyo. Moscow. Athens.

Then... dead end.

The number was a burner, encrypted through so many layers I couldn’t break through. A professional job. Which meant someone had resources. Money. Connections.

I clenched my jaw. Someone was watching me. Someone was playing a game I hadn’t even agreed to join. And I hated playing by other people’s rules.

The only option now was to stay ahead, assume every move I made was already being monitored. And if I was going to navigate this, I needed allies.

And those allies? They had to be the Martinez twins.

I barely slept. By morning, I was already up, dressed, and heading downstairs. My expression was unreadable.

Victoriano and Vincentius were already seated, their sharp gazes flicking to me as I entered. Vincentius was composed, always calculated, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Victoriano was twirling a spoon, impatience leaking through his bored facade.

I dropped into the chair across from them, tapping my nails against the wood. “We have a problem.”

Victoriano scoffed, leaning back. “When do we not?”

Vincentius ignored his brother and studied me. “Talk.”

I didn’t waste time. “Someone called last night. Distorted voice. They said the game’s already begun. I traced the number. Dead end.”

Victoriano’s jaw tightened, his usual cocky attitude faltering. “What else?”

“The call was encrypted. Routed through multiple countries. Whoever this is knows what they’re doing.”

Vincentius exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing. “They wanted you to know. This isn’t a warning. It’s a declaration.”

Victoriano grunted. “Or a threat.”

“Both,” I corrected. “They want me engaged. They want me to play.”

Vincentius was already on his phone, tapping out commands. “I’ll have our team run a trace. You might’ve missed something.”

I bristled. “I didn’t miss anything.”

His gaze met mine, unwavering. “I know. But we need confirmation. We don’t act on half-truths.”

That was Vincentius—cold, logical, always three steps ahead. People trusted him because he always had a plan. Victoriano was chaos wrapped in charm. Impulsive, unpredictable, a wildcard.

Victoriano pushed his chair back, irritation flaring. “We should be out there, tracking them down. Not sitting here like waiting for another damn call.”

“And go where?” Vincentius shot back, calm and unbothered. “We have no leads. No names. No locations. You want to chase shadows?”

Victoriano’s nostrils flared, but he held his tongue.

I turned to Vincentius. “What’s the play?”

“Act normal. Business as usual. Whoever called wants you rattled. If we make rash moves, we’re playing right into their hands.”

I exhaled sharply. “So, we do nothing?”

“No,” Vincentius said, voice like steel. “We wait. We make them think we’re waiting. But in the meantime, we dig. We find out who has the resources to pull this off. We set a trap.”

Victoriano grinned, the dangerous glint in his eyes returning. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind.”

I crossed my arms, still restless, but I knew he was right. “Fine. But the second we get a lead, we move. No hesitation.”

Vincentius nodded. “Agreed.”

Victoriano clapped his hands. “Well, since we’re waiting... I think I’ll have some fun before the shit hits the fan.”

Vincentius rolled his eyes. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

Victoriano winked. “No promises.”

As he walked off, I turned to Vincentius. “You don’t think he’ll actually lay low, do you?”

Vincentius gave me a knowing look. “Victoriano thrives in chaos. But that’s what makes him unpredictable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s going to work in our favor.”

I sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

Vincentius leaned forward. “I usually am.”

I hated that he was right. But the waiting game? I hated it more.

One thing was clear: the first move had been made.

And I’d be damned if I didn’t make the next one.

I’ve added a bit more punch to the dialogue, layered the tension between the characters, and cranked up the internal conflict. How does this version feel?