Page 111 of Lord of the Dark

Alessandro opened the door, and I stepped inside.

The hallway was cool, the walls white, the floor smooth. Everything felt new, untouched. Only a few rooms. Through a half-open door, I caught sight of a large hall—cold, metallic, bare. A harsh surgical light hung from the ceiling, a medical table positioned dead center. My heart dropped into my knees.

Two more doors led to rooms that looked like treatment areas—stainless steel, equipment, nothing personal. The sharp scent of disinfectant hung in the air.

"What the hell is this place?" I asked, stopping abruptly.

He turned to me, grinning. "A private hospital of sorts."

I stared at him, shaking my head in disbelief. "Of course. Why not? To match the palace—a personal operating room. All that’s missing is your own private cemetery."

He laughed softly. "With the kind of injuries we usually deal with, a public hospital is… let’s say, less than ideal. Too many questions."

I could hardly believe how casually he said it. As if this were nothing more than a convenient solution for everyday problems.

He opened a door and motioned for me to enter. Inside, a man in a white coat waited. Tall, bald, with a calm gaze. He looked more like a scientist than a traditional doctor.

"Buonasera, Signorina," he greeted me politely, gesturing to one of the chairs.

"I’d rather stand," I replied curtly.

Alessandro chuckled behind me. "Stubborn as ever."

He exchanged a few words in Italian with the doctor, then turned to me. His tone had turned serious.

"You’re getting an implant. A tracker—just under the skin, at the base of your neck."

My stomach clenched. I opened my mouth, but he kept talking.

"The problem is: if the Russians actually kidnap you, they’ll assume you’re being monitored. They’ll search you. So you’re getting two."

I blinked. "Two?"

"The first will be easy to find—right where they’ll look first. So they think they’ve got everything. And that they’ve neutralized it."

I swallowed hard, every instinct in me rebelling. "And the second?"

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small, transparent case. Inside lay two unremarkable contact lenses.

"The second is in here. Special lenses. Microelectronics, nearly undetectable. Rare enough that they won’t expect it."

I stared at the lenses like they were radioactive.

My stomach lurched. Again. "I think I’m gonna be sick."

The doctor gestured for me to sit on the treatment chair. I did—stiff, unblinking, my hands gripping the armrests like they could anchor me from completely losing it. The implant was tiny. And yet it felt like I was officially marked now. Like I belonged to this world, whether I wanted to or not.

Soon after, I was back in the hallway. Contacts in, tracker embedded in my neck.

Alessandro stepped beside me. "It’s the most we can do." His concern was unmistakable.

I looked at him, exhausted. "Who’s to say this isn’t just another way for you to manipulate me? To keep tabs on me wherever I am?"

"Of course it is. How else would I know where you are?" He didn’t flinch, but there was a flicker of disappointment in his gaze. "When will you stop seeing traps in everything? I hope—no, I pray—that this is just an overprecaution. That the worst-case scenario doesn’t happen, and this damn thing isn’t the only link left between us."

I laughed bitterly at the thought that this trip to Europe was originally supposed to be a vacation.

"So? What now?" I asked wearily.

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