The room they brought me to didn't look like a prison.

That made it worse.

The bedroom was enormous black marble floors, a king-sized bed dressed in dark silk sheets, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. Everything screamed luxury. Power. Control.

And none of it belonged to me.

A maid helped me out of my coat, her movements careful, her eyes lowered. No one spoke. No one asked if I was okay. In this house, feelings didn't matter-only obedience.

When the door finally closed behind her, the silence pressed in on me.

I stood there for a long moment, hugging my arms around myself, trying to breathe. My heart was still racing from what I'd done from the signature that had sealed my fate.

Married.

To a mafia king who had just told me no woman survived him.

The door opened without a knock.

Luca De Santis stepped inside.

I turned instantly, my spine stiffening.

He had removed his jacket but kept his shirt sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. He looked infuriatingly calm, like this was just another night, another transaction completed.

"This room is yours," he said. "You won't leave it without permission."

I swallowed. "Like a prisoner."

"Like my wife," he corrected coolly.

I clenched my jaw. "What exactly do you expect from me?"

Luca's gaze slid over me, slow and deliberate, making heat crawl under my skin despite my fear. "Obedience. Discretion. Loyalty."

"And if I fail?" I asked.

His eyes flicked to mine. "Then the contract becomes... unpleasant."

A chill ran down my spine.

He walked toward the table near the window and picked up a folder. Another one. Thinner than the contract, but heavier in meaning.

"These are the rules," he said, tossing it onto the bed.

I stared at it, then at him. "Rules?"

"You will memorize them," Luca said. "Break one, and there will be consequences."

My fingers shook as I opened the folder.

Rule One: Never leave the estate without authorization.

Rule Two: Never speak to outsiders about the marriage.

Rule Three: Never ask about my business.

Rule Four: Never enter the west wing.

Rule Five: Never fall in love.

My breath caught.

I looked up slowly. "That last one-"

"Is not a suggestion," Luca said sharply.

I closed the folder. "Why marry me if you're so afraid of love?"

He stopped moving.

For a split second, something dark flickered across his face pain, maybe. Or rage.

Then it vanished.

"Love gets people killed," he said. "You'd do well to remember that."

I hesitated before asking the question burning inside me. "The women before me... did they break the rules?"

Luca stepped closer, invading my space. I could smell his cologne something dark and expensive.

"You are dangerously curious," he murmured.

"Because I don't want to die," I shot back.

His lips curved into a humorless smile. "Then follow the rules."

A knock sounded at the door.

Marcus, the man from earlier, entered. "Sir. There's been movement. One of the Rossi men was spotted near the perimeter."

Luca's entire presence shifted. Colder. Deadlier.

"Double security," Luca ordered. "No one gets close to her."

Her.

The word hit me unexpectedly.

Marcus nodded and left.

I stared at Luca. "They're watching already, aren't they?"

"Yes," he said. "They'll test you. Try to use you."

"For what?"

He met my eyes. "To hurt me."

Fear curled in my chest. "And if they succeed?"

Luca leaned down until his face was inches from mine. "Then I'll burn the city to the ground."

My breath hitched.

He straightened. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, you meet the world as Mrs. De Santis."

He turned to leave, then paused at the door.

"One more thing, Elena," he said without looking back. "This marriage is not protection."

The door opened.

"It's a battlefield."

And as the door shut behind him, I realized something terrifying.

I wasn't just trapped in Luca De Santis's house.

I was trapped in his war.

The first time I stepped outside as Luca De Santis's wife, the world looked exactly the same.

That terrified me.

The morning sun glinted off the black luxury cars lined up in the driveway. Men in dark suits stood with military precision, eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. Their hands never strayed far from the weapons hidden beneath tailored jackets.

I was surrounded by power.

And none of it was mine.

"Stand straight."

Luca's voice was low, controlled, coming from beside me as I paused at the top of the marble steps. He hadn't touched me, but his presence was heavy commanding.

I lifted my chin.

"You are not afraid," he continued quietly. "You are untouchable. Anyone who looks at you must believe that."

I forced my shoulders back. "And if I am afraid?"

"Then you hide it," he said. "Fear is blood in the water."

The words settled deep in my chest.

A driver opened the car door. Luca entered first, then gestured for me to follow. As soon as I sat beside him, the door closed, sealing us into a cocoon of leather and silence.

The convoy pulled away.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"A charity gala," Luca replied. "Rossi territory."

My heart skipped. "Your enemies?"

"They prefer the term rivals," he said calmly. "Smile. Tonight, we play a role."

The city blurred past the windows as my pulse quickened. "What role?"

"My perfect wife."

The venue was a restored historic mansion overlooking the river, lights blazing, cameras flashing as our car stopped at the entrance. The moment Luca stepped out, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations hushed. Heads turned.

Then Luca reached back and offered his hand.

Every instinct screamed at me to hesitate.

I didn't.

The flash of cameras was blinding as I stepped into the night beside him. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"Is that her?"

"He finally married?"

"Poor girl..."

Luca's hand slid possessively to my waist. "Closer," he murmured.

I obeyed.

We moved through the crowd like royalty, smiles polished, masks perfectly in place. People approached, offering congratulations, thinly veiled curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

"Elena," Luca said softly, "this is Marco Rossi."

The man before us smiled-but his eyes were sharp, assessing. Dangerous.

"So this is the mystery bride," Marco said. "You're... younger than I expected."

Luca's grip tightened. "She's exactly what I wanted."

Marco chuckled. "Of course. Tell me, Elena-are you enjoying married life?"

I met his gaze, remembering Luca's words. Untouchable.

"Yes," I said smoothly. "My husband takes very good care of me."

Something flickered in Marco's eyes. Interest. Calculation.

"Does he?" Marco asked. "I hear De Santis men are... demanding."

Luca's smile was ice-cold. "Careful."

Marco raised his hands in mock surrender. "Just conversation."

But as he leaned closer, his voice dropped. "Watch your step, bella. Queens fall quickly in this city."

Luca pulled me away before I could respond.

"You did well," he said quietly as we reached the terrace.

"I thought he was going to bite me," I whispered.

"That's because he was," Luca replied. "And you didn't bleed."

The night wore on, the tension never easing. I felt eyes on me constantly judging, measuring.

Then my phone vibrated in my clutch.

I frowned. No one had my number.

I glanced at the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

Blink twice if you want to live.

My breath caught.

I froze.

Luca noticed instantly. "What is it?"

I looked up at him slowly, forcing my face into calm neutrality.

"Nothing," I lied.

But my heart was pounding violently as I slipped the phone back into my bag.

Moments later, the lights flickered.

A scream cut through the air.

Chaos erupted.

Security surged forward as a glass display shattered near the entrance. People ran. Shouted. Luca's arm wrapped around me, pulling me behind him.

"Move," he barked into his earpiece.

Gunfire echoed one shot, then another.

I gasped as Luca shoved me toward the exit, his body shielding mine.

The car was just ahead when something slammed into me from behind.

I stumbled.

Hands grabbed my arms.

A voice hissed in my ear. "Run now, or die later."

Luca turned just as I was dragged into the darkness.

"Elena!"

The sound of my name tore from him as the world spun.

And then.

Everything went black.

Cold hit me first.

Not the sharp kind, but a deep, creeping chill that settled into my bones as consciousness slowly returned. My head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind my eyes. I tried to move and froze.

My wrists were bound.

Rope bit into my skin, rough and unforgiving. My ankles were tied to the legs of a metal chair, keeping me upright. Panic surged through me like a tidal wave.

I forced myself to breathe.

Slow. Quiet.

The room was dim, lit by a single hanging bulb that swayed slightly above me. Bare concrete walls. No windows. The air smelled faintly of oil and rust.

A warehouse.

Footsteps echoed.

My heart slammed violently as a man stepped into the light. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair streaked with silver at the temples. His suit was immaculate, as if he hadn't dragged a woman into a kidnapping hours ago.

"Mrs. De Santis," he said pleasantly. "You woke up quicker than I expected."

I lifted my chin. "Let me go."

He chuckled. "Straight to business. I like that."

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"Victor Romano," he said, spreading his hands. "A friend of your husband. Occasionally an enemy."

My stomach tightened. "What do you want?"

Victor pulled out a chair and sat across from me, crossing his legs. "Information."

"I don't have any," I said quickly.

"Everyone has something," he replied. "Sometimes they just don't know it yet."

He leaned forward. "Tell me what does Luca De Santis fear?"

I laughed, brittle and hollow. "Nothing."

Victor smiled slowly. "Wrong answer."

He nodded to someone behind me.

Pain exploded through my shoulder as something struck me hard. I cried out, my body jerking against the ropes.

"Stop!" I gasped.

Victor sighed. "I don't enjoy this part. But you see, Elena, Luca doesn't leave weaknesses lying around. If you exist, you matter."

I swallowed, tears burning my eyes. "He married me for a contract. That's all."

Victor studied my face closely. "Is that what he told you?"

Silence stretched between us.

"Because from where I stand," Victor continued, "you're already worth more than your father's debt."

My pulse raced. "You're wasting your time."

"Perhaps," he said. "Or perhaps you're the key to ending a very long war."

He stood and walked behind me. I felt his presence at my back, invasive and terrifying.

"Luca has enemies everywhere," Victor murmured. "But he only protects what he values."

"I don't matter to him," I whispered.

Victor laughed softly. "Then why hasn't he burned this city down yet?"

Before I could respond, the warehouse doors slammed open.

Shouting erupted.

Gunfire cracked through the air-sharp, deafening.

Victor swore under his breath. "He's faster than I thought."

My heart leapt painfully. Luca.

The room descended into chaos. Men shouted orders. Footsteps thundered. Another gunshot rang out closer this time.

Victor grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. "Stay very still."

A body hit the floor nearby.

Then another.

The sound of boots approached-slow, deliberate.

The light shifted as a tall figure stepped into the doorway.

Luca.

His suit was splattered with blood. His expression was carved from stone.

"Let her go," he said calmly.

Victor tightened his grip. "You always were predictable."

Luca's gaze flicked to me-just once. And in that instant, something in his eyes shattered.

"You touched what's mine," Luca said quietly.

Victor laughed. "Your wife? You said she was disposable."

Luca raised his gun.

"She isn't."

The shot was deafening.

Victor collapsed, blood spreading across his chest. Luca crossed the room in three strides and cut the ropes binding me. My legs nearly gave out as he caught me effortlessly.

"You're safe," he said against my hair. "I've got you."

I clutched his shirt, trembling. "You came."

He held me tightly for one heartbeat too long.

Then he pulled back, his expression hardening.

"This changes everything," Luca said.

"What does?" I whispered.

He brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear.

"They took you," he said. "Which means the rules are over."

My breath caught. "What rules?"

Luca leaned close, his voice dark and lethal.

"The part where I pretended I didn't care if you lived."