Fire and Silk

They dragged me from the stage and into a mansion built like a tomb.
They say I’m legacy—blood inked in a pact older than love, older than mercy.

And the man who holds me here?

Severo Dantès.
The Cartographer.
He maps empires. He doesn’t flinch.
He watches me like a threat he intends to consume.
He says I’m safer locked inside his walls.
But safety has never looked so much like sacrifice.

Then Nico returns—my brother’s best friend.
My almost.
He offers escape.
But I don’t want out.
Not anymore.
Because this isn’t a love story.
It’s a blood ritual.
La Legatura.
Irreversible. Unholy. Ours.
I was born of a secret.
Bred for a crown.

And when the knives come out—
I’ll be the one holding the blade.