This is update 2 of the day. Read chapter 42 incase you missed it. ❤️

Haven's head throbbed, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo the chaos in her life. She groaned, pressing her hand to her temple as she forced her eyes open. The room around her was unfamiliar—luxurious but devoid of warmth. It was dimly lit, shadows clinging to the corners like ghosts.

Her memories clawed at the edges of her mind, fragmented and hazy. Ivan. She had been with Ivan. They were arguing , and then—suddenly—he'd collapsed. Her throat tightened as the image of him slumping forward came rushing back. And then... then she'd fallen too.

Her heart sank. Was she kidnapped? Taken by one of Ivan's rivals?

Anger surged through her, pushing aside her fear. Haven sat up slowly, her muscles stiff, her body protesting every movement. Why me? she thought bitterly. Why am I stuck in this never-ending nightmare?

First Aerius, then Ivan, and now... now some other beast.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet meeting the cold marble floor. The room was quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that felt like it was waiting for something to happen. She stumbled to her feet, swaying slightly as dizziness threatened to pull her back down.

The door caught her eye, slightly ajar. Amateurs, Or a trap? What-fucking-ever she thought, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. She moved toward it, her steps unsteady but determined.

The hallway beyond was just as imposing as the room—vast and shrouded in darkness. Shadows stretched across the walls, distorted by the faint moonlight filtering through the tall windows. It was a mansion, she realized. A massive, empty one that felt more like a labyrinth than a home.

Her eyes landed on a small metal statue on a side table. Beside it was a pointed metal piece, likely part of the statue's design. She picked it up, clutching the makeshift weapon tightly. Her fingers wrapped around it as if it were her lifeline.

This time, she wasn't going to be a victim.

Her pulse quickened as she crept down the hall, her bare feet making no sound on the polished floors. Every sound of her breathe, every whisper of the wind, set her on edge. She cursed under her breath, not just at her situation but at the gods themselves.

What had she done to deserve this? She cursed the fates, the cruel hands that had written her life into chaos.

A faint sound made her freeze—a soft rustle, a movement. Haven turned sharply, raising her weapon instinctively.

A man emerged from the shadows. He was tall, his broad shoulders illuminated by the faint light. He was shirtless, his muscular frame carved like marble, every inch of him exuding danger.

"Easy," he said, His hands were raised, palms outward, a silent gesture of surrender.

But Haven didn't trust men—not anymore. She didn't give him the benefit of doubt.

"Stay back," she warned, her voice trembling.

The man tilted his head slightly, as if studying her. His features were still hidden in the shadows, but his presence was overpowering. He took a step toward her, slow and deliberate.

Haven's grip tightened on the pointed metal. Without thinking, she launched at him with all her strength, the weapon slicing through the air before sinking into his palm.

The sound of metal piercing flesh echoed in the silence. Haven's chest heaved as she expected him to cry out, to flinch, to show any sign of pain. But he didn't.

The man's expression remained eerily calm, his sharp gaze locked onto hers.

Haven's confidence faltered. She stumbled back, her pulse racing. Why didn't he react?

Haven's breath quickened as she instinctively took a step back. Her wild eyes scanned the room, searching for an escape, but her thoughts were too chaotic to focus. She backed up further, her heel catching on the edge of the rug, and she stumbled.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she teetered, bracing herself for a fall—but before she could hit the ground, a firm hand wrapped around her waist, steadying her.

Her heart raced as she felt the strength in his touch, the warmth of his skin against hers. She looked up, her breath hitching as her wide eyes met his—silver-gray, piercing, and unreadable in the dim light.

The man who stood before her wasn't just tall; he was towering, his presence as commanding as it was unsettling. His shirtless form revealed a body carved with raw strength and discipline.

For a moment, she froze, caught in the intensity of his gaze, the closeness of their bodies sending a chilling sensation coursing through her.

His hand remained on her waist for just a second longer than necessary, and the heat of it burned through her clothes. Haven snapped out of her daze, shoving him hard.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, her voice trembling with anger and a hint of panic.

He barely moved at her push, his feet planted firmly as if she were no more than a breeze trying to shift a mountain. His calm, unflinching demeanor only fueled her frustration.

Before she could back away again and run, his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip.

"Let me go!" she screamed, struggling against him. She twisted, yanked, even bit down on his arm, but his hold didn't loosen.

Her scream echoed through the mansion, and suddenly, the lights blazed to life, flooding the space with harsh brightness.

Haven blinked against the sudden glare, her eyes adjusting to the light. Finally, she saw him—his face, his eyes, the blood dripping from his palm where her weapon was still lodged.

Her breath caught. He was strikingly handsome, but his features were sharp and unyielding, like a blade honed to perfection. His eyes, a piercing stormy gray, bore into hers with an intensity that made her want to shrink away.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

"What's going on here? Ares?"

The voice shattered the tension. Haven turned her head to see three men entering the room, their presence as commanding as the man before her.

They were Lucifer, Rafael, and Izrael.

Without a word, Ares let her wrist go, his hand pulling away with a slow, deliberate movement. Blood dripped from the wound in his palm where she had stabbed him, but his expression remained unreadable, carved from stone.

His sharp, silver-gray eyes glared into hers one last time, a silent warning, before he turned and walked away, his broad back retreating into the shadows.

Haven's gaze followed him, her heart hammering in her chest as the air around her grew colder in his absence.

The metallic tang of blood lingered, and she couldn't shake the image of his bleeding palm—calm, unaffected, as though pain was beneath him.

Haven froze, her pulse pounding in her ears. She tried backing away, her instincts screaming for her to run, but her legs refused to cooperate. Her gaze now stuck on the strange men.

How was she going to stand against them?

"Haven" A familiar voice took her attention. She turned her head towards the direction of the voice.

"S-St-Stefano," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her bodyguard.

For a moment, she felt a shred of relief. Was she still in Salvatore's mansion? The familiar sight of Stefano made her believe that, maybe, just maybe, she wasn't in entirely foreign territory.

Her heart raced, fear gnawing at the edges of her mind, but there was a small comfort in recognizing someone. Better with the devil you know than the one you don't.

Stefano's steps were cautious as he approached her, his expression unreadable. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Haven was yanked into a sudden embrace, a pair of strong arms locking around her.

"You're awake" the voice murmured against her ear, low and hauntingly familiar. "Little Snow"

Her entire body went rigid. That voice.
Her heart dropped like a stone.

No.

It couldn't be.

But here he was, having her caged in his arms again.

Aerius.

Her worst nightmare.

So, how was the chapter ??? 👩‍💻

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