Chapter 160

Ava’s POV

I tensed immediately, my body stiffening as if every nerve had been exposed to ice. My eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, it felt like the world narrowed to just us. Everything about him screamed power—not the polite kind, but the destructive kind that followed if you dared look away. He wielded it so easily, so naturally, that it felt unnatural; like a predator who knew no one in the room could challenge him. His tailored suit clung to his lean frame, the sharp cut emphasizing his precision and ruthlessness. His jet-black hair, slicked back, accentuated the sharp angles of his face. But it wasn't just his appearance; it was the raw, untamed, dangerous energy he radiated.

Then there were his eyes. Goddess, those eyes. They weren't just dark; they were fathomless pits of cunning and cruelty, gleaming with a twisted intelligence. But beneath that, something even darker lurked—something unhinged.

Isabella’s voice broke the tense silence like a ray of sunlight cutting through a storm. She practically squealed with excitement, bounding toward Rickon with an impossible-to-fake energy. Ignoring whatever he said, she threw herself into his arms, radiating such pure joy I could almost feel it. Rickon, his usually composed demeanor softening, whispered something in her ear that made her blush fiercely. Her happiness was infectious… almost.

I smiled despite myself. She deserved this—deserved to be this happy. But the warmth of that moment dissipated like smoke when I felt his gaze and remembered he was there: Ricardo.

The name echoed in my mind like a warning bell as I turned to meet his piercing eyes. My wolf growled low in my chest. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to fight—to do something. But I sat frozen as his lips curled into a grin. Not just any grin; it was too wide, too smug—like he was privy to a joke the rest of us couldn't comprehend. Rickon and Isabella were lost in their own world, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. Ricardo took a step forward, his movements deliberate and measured, like a predator stalking its prey.

“And I finally meet the woman who captured the stoic king’s heart,” he said, his smooth voice laced with an Italian accent.

“And I finally meet the asshole who had me kidnapped,” I retorted, my voice sharp and cold.

His grin widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, finalmente lasci che il fuoco dentro di te si accenda. Mi piace.” (Oh, you finally let that fire in you burn. I like that.)

I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his words, his intentions. What the hell was he playing at?

“Non dovresti essere morto?” I asked bluntly. (Shouldn’t you be dead?)

He stepped closer, his smirk unwavering. His presence was suffocating, oppressive, and yet… hypnotic. It held me rooted in place even as every part of me screamed to move.

With a calculated smirk, he plucked the glass from my hand.

“Stavo quasi dimenticando, le mie fonti mi hanno informato che sei una donna dalle molte lingue.” (I almost forgot—my sources informed me you’re a woman of many languages.)

His eyes flicked over me, not in a way that made my skin crawl, but as if he were trying to read me, dissect me. The audacity sent a fresh wave of anger surging through me.

“E una donna di molti talenti, suppongo. Versami un bicchiere, per favore?” (And a woman of many talents, I suppose. Pour me a glass, will you?)

I held his gaze, my voice ice-cold. “Versati da bere o, meglio ancora, vattene. Non vorrai essere qui quando arriverà Grayson.” (Pour yourself a drink, or better yet, leave. You won’t want to be here when Grayson arrives.)

Ricardo laughed, a low, rich sound that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Hai trovato il coraggio. Impressionante. Sembra che tu e Grayson vi stiate influenzando a vicenda nel modo giusto. L’ultima volta che ti ho visto, eri tutta cenni di assenso e sorrisi, d’accordo con gli ordini dei tuoi genitori.” (You’ve found courage. Impressive. It seems you and Grayson are influencing each other in the right way. Last time I saw you, you were all nods and smiles, agreeing with your parents’ orders.)

What?

His words hit me like a slap. For a moment, I could only stare. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. When had he seen me? I’d never met him in my life.

“You’re lying,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’ve never met you.”

Ricardo’s grin sharpened, his dark eyes glittering with amusement and malice. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“I see you don’t remember,” he said, his tone almost casual. “Well, I don’t blame you. We did officially meet numerous times. But, as you just now know, my pack was originally from here before we moved to Italy. From time to time, I like to visit for a little nostalgia. Grayson wouldn’t be pleased to learn that, even with all his threats, I’ve been in the same room as you.”

He leaned closer, his breath brushing against my ear. “You know what else is hard to forget?”

Every muscle tensed as his words sent a cold wave crashing over me.

“That image from six years ago,” he continued, his voice like a blade, “of you pouring the contents of that vial into that wine glass.”

My blood froze.

Ricardo straightened, his grin cruel and triumphant as he watched the color drain from my face.

“Oh, cara,” he said softly, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You do remember, don’t you?”

I couldn’t breathe. My mind spiraled, fragments of memories clawing their way to the surface. “Who were you trying to kill, Ava?” he asked, his voice almost gentle. “Or… who did you kill?”