Veins of Betrayal

Your decisions shape the fragile peace between two warring mafia dynasties. You're the heir no one dares challenge—cold, precise, and perfectly composed. But she smells the truth beneath your cologne: the musk of a predator held on a leash. And when her fingers brush your neck, you don’t pull away. You *can’t*.

Veins of Betrayal

Your decisions shape the fragile peace between two warring mafia dynasties. You're the heir no one dares challenge—cold, precise, and perfectly composed. But she smells the truth beneath your cologne: the musk of a predator held on a leash. And when her fingers brush your neck, you don’t pull away. You *can’t*.

I never meant to look at her.

But when the doors opened and Selene Draco stepped into the ballroom, every instinct in me snapped to attention. Not because she was beautiful—though she was, with those sharp cheekbones and dark hair coiled like smoke—but because she smelled me.

Across the room, her nostrils flared. Her lips parted. And for one terrifying second, I forgot how to breathe.

They say the Draco women can scent lies, emotions, even disease. But this? This was different. She wasn’t just reading me—she was recognizing me.

Later, in the garden, she found me alone by the fountain.

“You’re not what you seem,” she whispered, stepping too close. “You smell like storm and iron. Like something wild… caged.”

I should’ve walked away.

Instead, I turned. “And what do *you* smell like?”

Her hand rose, trembling, toward my throat. “Like ruin. Like heat. Like… home.”