Ayla had always known that trust was a fragile thing, but she had never truly understood its weight until now.
The Ashen leader, Jaxon Vale, had turned out to be everything she expected and more—a man who played the game of power with a mastery that was both impressive and terrifying. Yet, even as he stood there, offering her alliances and resources, Ayla could feel the subtle tension in the air, the knowledge that one wrong move could shatter everything.
The Ashen weren't just a group of survivors—they were a well-oiled machine. A dangerous one.
But Ayla wasn't afraid.
She had seen the way Jaxon watched her, the hunger in his gaze. It wasn't just for power. No, there was something darker beneath the surface, something raw and primal. He wanted her, not just as an ally, but as something else entirely.
She had felt it the moment he had stepped into her space, close enough to touch, the space between them charged with a strange, undeniable electricity. But Ayla wasn't here to be anyone's toy. She wasn't here to fall for his charms, or anyone else's. Not after what had happened before.
---
After that first night in the Ashen's stronghold, Ayla kept her distance from Jaxon. She kept her focus on the mission, on her vengeance. Her objective had never changed—find her family, destroy them for what they did to her, and take control of what was rightfully hers. She didn't have time for distractions, not even ones as tempting as Jaxon.
But the days grew long, and the Ashen's base grew more familiar. Each corner, each room seemed to hold a secret—whispers of betrayal, of rival factions, of dangerous alliances. Jaxon's presence lingered, a shadow that never quite left her, and she couldn't ignore it. Not anymore.
Ayla had learned quickly that in this world, control was everything. If you didn't control your emotions, your desires, they would control you. And right now, Ayla had no time for weakness.
She had a plan, and nothing would derail her from it.
---
But as she moved through the hallways of the Ashen's headquarters, something caught her eye.
A door, slightly ajar, beckoning her with an irresistible pull. The dim light from within flickered, casting strange shadows that danced on the walls.
Ayla's instincts screamed at her to keep moving—to stay on course. But curiosity was a dangerous thing in this new world, and Ayla couldn't help herself.
She pushed the door open just a fraction, careful not to make a sound.
Inside, she found a room filled with maps, documents, and scattered reports. At first glance, it looked like any other war room, but as her eyes scanned the cluttered desk, something stopped her.
A piece of paper.
Not just any paper—this was a detailed map of the territory, with areas highlighted in red. But what caught her attention wasn't the territory. It was the names scribbled on the margins, names she knew all too well.
Her family.
Ayla's breath caught in her throat as she picked up the map, her hands trembling slightly. There, in her mother's unmistakable handwriting, were the names of people who had sold her out. The people who had thrown her into the fire without a second thought.
Her own sister's name was there. Emilia.
And next to it? A name that made Ayla's heart skip a beat: Luca Moretti.
Her mind raced. Luca. The name had a strange ring to it. A name she couldn't place, but one that had to mean something. She knew it wasn't just a coincidence. Luca Moretti had to be important.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice.
"You're not supposed to be here."
Ayla's heart skipped, but her expression remained unreadable. Slowly, she turned to face the man who had entered the room—Jaxon Vale. His dark eyes studied her with an unreadable expression.
"I could say the same about you," Ayla replied, her voice calm but firm.
Jaxon took a step forward, his gaze never leaving her. "You're snooping. That's dangerous."
Ayla didn't flinch. "I'm not afraid of danger."
He smirked, a slow, knowing smile that made her blood heat. "You should be. Not everything is as it seems, Ayla. And not everyone here is as trustworthy as they seem."
She held up the map, letting it dangle between them like a challenge. "Then maybe you should explain this."
Jaxon's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, and in that instant, Ayla knew something wasn't right. His eyes flicked to the names on the map, and she saw the tension in his jaw.
"The Morettis," he muttered. "You've got good instincts."
Ayla didn't speak, but her gaze sharpened. She knew that name now. The Morettis were a powerful family—ruthless, dangerous, and far too close to her own blood. And it was clear that Jaxon knew more than he was letting on.
"They're not just a family, are they?" Ayla pressed, her voice low but filled with intent. "They're connected to something much bigger, aren't they?"
Jaxon's eyes darkened, but he didn't deny it. "Let's just say the Morettis aren't the kind of people you want to get involved with… but you already know that, don't you?"
Ayla's fists clenched at her sides. "You've been using me," she whispered, the realization hitting her like a wave. "This whole time, you've been manipulating me."
Jaxon didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "You're clever, Ayla. But I never said I was your friend. I don't need friends. I need soldiers. And you, you're exactly what I need."
He was close now, too close, and for the first time, Ayla felt the heat of his proximity. His scent, sharp and intoxicating, filled her senses.
Her heart beat faster, but she didn't back away.
"I'm not your soldier," Ayla said, her voice hard as steel. "I'm my own."
Jaxon's smirk returned, but this time, it wasn't quite as charming. It was darker. More dangerous.
"You think you're in control?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "You think you can handle this world on your own?"
Ayla didn't respond immediately. Her fingers tightened around the map, but she kept her gaze locked on his. "I don't need you to tell me what I can and can't do."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Jaxon stepped back, his smirk growing.
"We'll see how long you last," he said, his voice laced with something between challenge and warning.
Ayla's eyes narrowed, but she didn't flinch. She wasn't here to play his games. She wasn't here to be controlled.
She was here to take everything.