The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle by dawn, but the weight of the previous night lingered heavily over Blackwood Tower. Ariella sat in the glass-walled conference room, her eyes tracing the rain-streaked skyline. The city below was waking, unaware of the unseen battles that shadowed its streets.
Damian entered quietly, his usually impeccable suit slightly rumpled, dark circles under his eyes betraying sleepless nights. The golden ring on his finger caught the morning light, pulsing faintly—a heartbeat in metal.
"We can't ignore the letter," he said, lowering himself into the chair opposite her. "This curse... it's alive, and it's hunting us."
Ariella folded her hands tightly. "But why now? Why reveal yourself to me?"
He paused, searching her face. "Because you're not just anyone. You're part of this story now—whether you like it or not."
She swallowed hard. The idea of being entwined with such darkness was terrifying, but also... strangely exhilarating.
Damian pulled out the ancient journal once more. "This book has the history of my family's curse. It's filled with warnings, rituals, and stories of those who tried to fight it—and failed."
Ariella leaned in, fascinated despite the growing dread. "What kind of rituals?"
Damian traced a finger over a faded illustration of a circle etched with runes. "There are ways to protect the wearer, but they come with sacrifices. And some powers within this curse can't be undone."
Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He glanced down and frowned.
"It's Lydia," he said. "There's been an incident at one of our subsidiary companies."
Ariella's heart pounded. The curse wasn't just a story—it was spilling into their world, threatening everything.
"Let's go," Damian said, standing abruptly. "We don't have much time."
As they hurried through the sleek corridors, the storm outside returned with renewed fury, wind howling like a beast unleashed.
Ariella glanced at Damian, seeing the fierce protector beneath the haunted man.
Whatever darkness was coming, they would face it together.
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