The Wolf's Obsession

Chapter 1: Shadows in The Evening.

NOTE: This is my first book so I apologize if there will be any problems or if this book won't meet your expectations. If you have any problems, questions, please let me know and I will try to get better.

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The streets of Florence were painted in the soft, fading hues of twilight as Isabella Moretti made her way back from the library.

Her fingers idly traced the edges of her notebook, the latest sketches from an afternoon spent in quiet contemplation still fresh in her mind. Her life, typically, was simple-a balance of art and routine, a kind of quiet she took comfort in.

She was only 23, but her soul seemed old, as if she'd lived many lives in the brush strokes she poured into her work. She had always been an observer, capturing the shadows, the light, the minute details others missed. Today, however, the shadows had taken on a life of their own.

Isabella had noticed them lingering on the edges of her vision, strange figures that seemed to come and go, hidden in the alleys and half-lit streets.

She dismissed it at first as exhaustion from a long day, but a faint shiver slipped down her spine each time she turned a corner. She wasn't one to scare easily, but something felt undeniably wrong.
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As she reached a narrow stretch just before her apartment, she glanced over her shoulder again. Nothing. She sighed, chiding herself for her paranoia, and kept walking, her pace quickening out of instinct more than fear.

The shadows came from nowhere.

One moment she was alone, and the next, a hand had clamped over her mouth, silencing the scream that rose to her lips. Another hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a hard, unyielding frame.

The grip was firm, unbreakable, yet somehow calm, almost practiced. Her heartbeat thundered as she struggled against her captor, but the more she fought, the tighter the hold became. She clawed, kicked, her mind racing for an escape-but it was useless.

"Easy, bella," a voice murmured softly in her ear, the words like ice on her skin. There was no threat in the tone, yet it held a weight that stopped her resistance cold.

In a haze of fear, she could feel herself being lifted, the world around her blurring as she was carried to a waiting vehicle.

The last thing she remembered before everything went dark was the smell of leather, faintly mingling with cologne-woodsy, intoxicating, unfamiliar.

When Isabella finally awoke, her head felt heavy, and her vision was slow to focus. Her mind spun, trying to grasp the reality of her situation.

She was in a room she didn't recognize, lying on a plush bed with silk sheets-a place that, under other circumstances, might have seemed luxurious.

But as she took in her surroundings, the starkness of the place, the barred windows and the single locked door, the reality hit her with a cold shock: she was a captive.

Panic surged, and she sprang from the bed, rushing to the door and rattling the handle, her fingers trembling. "Hello?" she called out, her voice hoarse and echoing in the silence.

She pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear any signs of life outside. Nothing. Not even footsteps. She was utterly, terrifyingly alone.

She tried to steady herself, forcing her breaths to slow. There had to be a way out, she told herself. There was always a way. She approached the window, but her heart sank at the sight of iron bars.

Through the narrow gaps, she could see sprawling grounds that seemed to stretch on endlessly, enclosed by high, forbidding walls. Even if she could get past the door, there was no escaping the fortress outside.

A shiver ran down her spine. She wasn't merely in a room; she was in a prison.

Hours passed in a kind of dreadful quiet, and just as the faintest hint of dawn began to filter through the barred window, the door finally swung open. Isabella stood quickly, her heart pounding as a tall, imposing figure strode in.

His eyes were a piercing gray, cold and unreadable, but they held a strange intensity that made her blood run cold.

"Good morning, Isabella," he said, his voice low and controlled, a faint accent coloring his words. She swallowed, staring at him in shock, her mind reeling with questions.

He looked at her with the faintest hint of amusement, as though he could read every thought running through her mind.

He had an air of authority, as though he was someone used to giving commands and having them obeyed without question.

"Who... who are you?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling. "Why am I here?"

He smiled, a slow, almost chilling smile. "My name is Alessandro, though some call me 'the Wolf.'" He paused, watching her reaction. "And you, Isabella, are my guest."

"Your guest?" she echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "This is how you treat guests? By locking them up like prisoners?"

He tilted his head, considering her words. "Guests, prisoners, captives... perhaps they're all the same, in a way. You are here because I wanted you here. Nothing more, nothing less."

Rage and fear battled within her. "Let me go," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her defiance. "I don't think you understand. You're not in a position to make demands."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "Why me? I don't even know you."

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "No, you don't," he said softly. "But you will."

With that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him. Isabella stared at the door, a mixture of dread and determination boiling within her.

She couldn't understand why he had taken her, but she knew one thing for certain: she would find a way to escape, no matter what it took.
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To be continued...
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