The heavy door slammed shut behind me, the impact echoing through the room like a gunshot. A split second later came the metallic click of the lock-final, deliberate. Permanent.

My skin crawled.

I stumbled backward on instinct, my pulse roaring in my ears as I took in the enormous space around me. The room was breathtaking in the way luxury often was-designed to overwhelm, to seduce, to silence questions.

Velvet curtains in deep wine hues draped the tall windows, thick enough to block out both light and hope. Crystal chandeliers glowed warmly overhead, casting golden reflections across marble floors and polished wood. At the center of the room stood a massive four-poster bed, its dark frame carved with intricate designs, silk sheets folded back as if someone had prepared it carefully.

Too carefully.

Beautiful, yes.

But no matter how elegant it looked, no matter how much money had been poured into every detail, this wasn't a bedroom.

It was a prison.

Panic surged through me, sharp and breath-stealing. I rushed back to the door, grabbing the handle and yanking hard. It didn't move. I tried again, harder this time, the metal biting into my palms. My hands began to ache, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

"Let me out!" I shouted, my voice cracking as my fists pounded against the thick wood. "You can't keep me here!"

The sound barely seemed to travel. The walls swallowed my words whole.

Silence answered me.

My chest heaved as I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the cool surface of the door. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my breathing, trying to convince myself that this was a misunderstanding-that someone would come, that this nightmare would end as abruptly as it had begun.

Then a sound sliced through the stillness.

A scream.

At first it was muffled, distant enough that I almost convinced myself I'd imagined it. But then it came again-sharper, rawer. A man's voice, ragged and breaking under the weight of agony. Metal clanged somewhere beyond the walls. Something struck flesh. Bone cracked.

The scream tore through the space until it ended abruptly, cut off in a way that made my stomach lurch violently.

My blood went cold.

I staggered backward, my legs weak, until I hit the edge of the bed. I sank down without meaning to, my hands trembling as they gripped the silk sheets.

What kind of place is this?

What kind of man-

The lock turned.

I froze.

The door swung open slowly, as if whoever stood on the other side wanted me to feel every second of it.

And then he stepped inside.

Adrian Moretti.

I recognized him instantly, even though I'd only seen him from a distance before-at gatherings, on screens, spoken about in hushed tones. Power clung to him like a second skin. He filled the doorway effortlessly, tall and broad, his presence sucking the air from the room.

His black shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle. His collar was undone, his appearance relaxed in a way that made my skin crawl. His knuckles were raw, smeared with fresh blood that hadn't yet dried.

He looked dangerous. Ruthless.

And disturbingly handsome.

His sharp jawline caught the chandelier's light, his dark hair slicked back perfectly as if nothing in the world could disrupt his control. A face carved too beautifully for someone so merciless.

The kind of man women probably dreamed

about.

But not me.

The sight of him made bile rise in my throat. Because behind that perfect exterior was a monster who thought he could buy and own lives like toys.

"You heard."

His deep voice was calm-casual, even. As if he were commenting on something trivial. As if he hadn't just reduced another human being to screams and silence.

My throat tightened painfully. "What... what did you do to him?"

Adrian shut the door behind him, the sound final. He locked it again and slid the key into his pocket before turning back to me. Then he walked closer, slow and deliberate. Each step echoed, measured and unhurried, like a predator that knew its prey had nowhere to run.

"I gave him what he deserved."

My heart hammered violently against my ribs. "You tortured him."

He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes narrowing as if considering my choice of words. "If that's what you want to call it."

Fury flared hot in my chest, slicing through the fear. "You're disgusting," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "A monster."

His expression hardened instantly.

In two strides, he was in front of me. His fingers closed around my wrist, firm and unyielding, squeezing just enough to sting. Not enough to bruise-yet. His eyes bored into mine, cold and assessing.

"Careful with your words, Stacy."

My breath caught painfully.

My name.

Shock tore through me. "How... how do you know my name?"

His lips curved into a slow, cruel smirk. "I know everything that belongs to me."

Something inside me snapped.

Hate flared brighter than fear, hotter than the panic twisting my gut. "I'll never belong to you," I spat, wrenching my hand free from his grip.

For the first time, something flickered across his face. Amusement, perhaps. Interest.

His smirk deepened.

"You'll learn."

He released me suddenly and stepped back, as if he'd already lost interest in the struggle. I rubbed my wrist, glaring at him with every ounce of hatred I could muster.

Adrian adjusted his cuff, his voice turning cold and final. "You'll stay here until I say otherwise. Try the door again, and you'll regret it."

I wanted to scream at him. Curse him. Scratch his eyes out. But my throat locked around the words, my body trembling with the effort of holding myself together.

He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. He glanced back once, his smirk sharp enough to cut.

"Sweet dreams, Stacy."

The lock clicked behind him.

I was alone again-trapped in the silence of the golden cage.

My hands shook as I sank onto the bed, the luxury beneath me feeling like mockery.

Somewhere beyond these walls, screams echoed in my memory, and the reality of where I was finally settled in.

And in that silence, I made myself a promise.

I would never fall for him.

I would never forgive him.

I would never stop hating Adrian Moretti.

No matter how dangerous he was.

No matter how powerful.

No matter how beautifully the cage was built. 

The morning was no softer than the night.

I sat in silence, staring at the streaks of sunlight crawling weakly through the curtains, wishing the warmth could pierce the chill in my bones. The room looked expensive-silken sheets, a chandelier, polished furniture-but it felt no different from a dungeon. Beauty meant nothing when you were locked in it like a pet.

I hadn't slept. How could I? My mind kept replaying the nightmare of the night before. Adrian-the mafia's devil-had spoken my name with a cruel familiarity, his piercing eyes burning into me as if I already belonged to him.

And Vera.

She had stood beside him like a queen guarding her throne. Beautiful, poised, dangerous. Her hand lingered on his arm, her gaze sharp on me. She didn't bother to hide her hatred. She wanted me to know: I was nothing. He was hers.

The memory made my stomach twist.

A sound jolted me from my thoughts-the lock turning.

My heart jumped. For a second, I thought it might be Adrian himself.

But it was her.

Vera walked in with the grace of someone who believed the world owed her its gaze. A maid trailed behind her, balancing a silver tray heavy with the smell of fresh bread, eggs, and fruit.

My stomach clenched, betraying me with hunger, but I forced my face into cold indifference. The maid set the tray on the table, bowed, and scurried out quickly-as though she didn't want to breathe the same air as me.

The door closed again, locking, leaving me trapped with Vera.

She crossed her arms, her eyes roaming over me before breaking into a slow, mocking smile.

"Well," she drawled, "still here. Still pretending you matter."

I stayed silent, meeting her gaze without flinching.

She stepped closer, her perfume sharp and suffocating. Tilting her head, she spoke softly, like a predator circling prey.

"Eat. You'll need your strength."

"I'm not hungry," I replied flatly.

She smirked. "Liar. I heard your stomach growl."

I clenched my jaw.

Her voice dropped, colder now.

"Let me be clear, Stacy. I don't know why he brought you here, and I don't care. He has plenty of women-more than you could count. But I am the one closest to him. I am the one he listens to. You-" her eyes raked over me with disdain, "you're nothing but a problem dumped at his feet."

Anger flared hot in my chest.

"Then why are you here? Why waste your breath on me if I'm such a nobody?"

Her lips tightened before curving into a venomous smile.

"Because girls like you are the dangerous kind. You walk in with your wide eyes and false innocence, and men start to notice. I won't allow it. I won't let you think, even for a second, that you could take my place."

I barked a bitter laugh, though my hands trembled at my sides.

"Take your place? Do you think I want it? Do you think I want him?"

Her smile faltered.

I stepped forward, close enough to see the flicker of something ugly flash through her perfect eyes.

"Listen carefully, Vera. I don't want Adrian. I don't want his money, his power, or his attention. You can keep your crown, you can keep his touch, you can keep the cold comfort of being 'the closest.' Because I hate him."

The word cracked in the air like thunder.

Hate.

Vera stiffened. Silence pressed heavy between us. Then, slowly, she laughed. But it wasn't amusement-it was brittle, furious.

"You'll regret saying that," she whispered, voice dripping venom. "You think you're strong now, but Adrian doesn't tolerate defiance. He'll break you until you're begging for scraps. And when he does, don't think I'll be kind."

Her smile returned, sharper than a blade, though her eyes betrayed the storm brewing beneath. She turned on her heel, her steps striking the floor with deliberate, angry taps. At the door, she glanced back one last time.

"Stay in your place, sweetheart. Or I'll make sure you learn it the hard way."

The lock clicked as the door shut behind her.

I stood frozen, fists clenched so tightly my nails dug crescents into my palms. I wanted to scream. To throw the tray of food across the room. To tear down these gilded walls and run until I could breathe again.

Instead, I sank onto the bed, my chest heaving.

Vera thought I wanted Adrian. She thought I coveted her place. She couldn't be more wrong.

I didn't envy her. I pitied her.

Because no matter how close she was to him, no matter how proudly she flaunted her crown, she was still in chains. Chains made of fear, of desire, of his power.

And I would rather rot in this room than bow to him. 

The door cracked open again, just hours after Vera had left. I stiffened instantly, my pulse jumping. For a fleeting second, I thought it was her again, back to throw more venom in my face, to remind me once more that I was nothing but a prisoner. But it wasn't Vera.

A man stepped inside instead. His shoulders were broad, his black shirt rolled at the sleeves, revealing a tattoo winding up his arm. He looked familiar-too familiar. My breath caught as recognition flashed.

He had been there the night they stormed my house. He was one of the men who had dragged me out while Adrian watched with that ruthless gaze, giving silent commands like a king directing his soldiers.

His voice was deep, clipped, leaving no room for argument. "Boss wants you downstairs."

My stomach twisted at the word Boss.

Adrian.

I hugged my arms around myself, instinctively shrinking back a little. "I'm not going anywhere," I snapped, though the words sounded weaker than I intended.

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, and his jaw tightened. "You don't get a choice. Move."

I hated that he was right. If I refused, they'd drag me again, humiliate me all over. And I couldn't give them that satisfaction.

So I forced myself to stand, my legs heavy but steady. "Fine," I muttered. "Let's get this over with."

The man gave a short nod and stepped aside, waiting for me to pass him. The moment I did, he followed close behind, his presence like a shadow breathing down my neck.

The hallway stretched before me, far grander than I had realized last night. When they brought me in, everything was a blur of adrenaline, fear, and the sharp sting of manhandling. But now-now I saw the truth of this place.

The mansion was a palace.

The marble floors gleamed beneath my feet, polished to the point of reflection. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their crystals scattering shards of light across the hall. Expensive art lined the walls, each piece a silent display of wealth and status. Everything reeked of power.

Somewhere deeper in the mansion, music drifted through the air.

But it wasn't beauty that unsettled me.

It was the danger lurking behind it.

Men stood at every corner, dressed in black, their hands always near the guns holstered at their waists. Their eyes flicked to me as I passed, sharp and assessing, like predators sizing up prey.

And then there were the women.

As we moved closer to the main room, laughter and perfume drifted in the air. The sound grated on me. When I finally stepped into the open space, my stomach knotted.

Adrian sat there.

He lounged back in an armchair like a king in his den, one arm draped lazily over the side, the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily in the air, circling his face in a way that made him look both untouchable and dangerous.

And around him-women.

They draped themselves across the chairs, across him, like ornaments desperate for attention. Their dresses were short, their heels clicking against the marble as they moved. Some whispered in his ear, others giggled at jokes he hadn't even made.

I froze, bile rising in my throat.

He looked up at me.

And just like that, the room stilled.

His eyes found mine instantly, locking on as though the rest of the world ceased to exist. My breath caught despite myself.

I had seen that face before.

Not here. Not like this.

On the news.

His father-one of the most powerful men in the country-was always plastered across headlines. "Business tycoon." "Kingmaker." "The man behind the empire." But I knew better. Everyone did, even if they never said it out loud. Blood money ran in that family's veins.

And Adrian-his heir-was now taking over.

My pulse raced as the realization settled in. I hadn't just been dragged into some random criminal's den. I had been thrown into the heart of power.

"Stacy," Adrian said smoothly, my name rolling off his tongue like he owned it. "You look... better in daylight."

His voice made my skin crawl.

I clenched my fists. "What do you want from me?"

The corner of his mouth curved upward. He took a long drag from his cigarette, then exhaled slowly, deliberately, before answering.

"I don't want anything. Not yet."

"Then why am I here?" I demanded, stepping forward despite the stares of his men and his women. "Why drag me into this hellhole? What did my brother do?"

His expression didn't shift. If anything, his eyes grew colder.

"That's not your concern."

My anger snapped like a whip. "Not my concern? You kidnapped me because of him! Don't you dare tell me it's not my concern!"

One of the women perched at his side giggled, whispering something in his ear. He ignored her, his gaze never leaving me.

He flicked the cigarette into an ashtray, leaning forward now, elbows resting on his knees. His presence felt heavier with every second.

"You don't ask questions in my world, Stacy," he said softly, though his tone was razor sharp. "Questions get you hurt."

I refused to back down. "Maybe I'd rather get hurt than be kept in the dark. Or are you too much of a coward to admit what you've done?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them. The air in the room grew tense, like even the walls held their breath.

Adrian rose to his feet slowly, every movement deliberate. The women around him scattered slightly, giving him space. He didn't shout. He didn't lunge. But the weight of his anger was suffocating.

He closed the distance between us with slow, steady steps.

When he stood inches from me, towering, I could feel the heat of his presence, the smoke still lingering on his shirt.

"Careful, princess," he murmured, his eyes dark with something I couldn't name. "You're brave... but bravery has its limits."

I tilted my chin, refusing to shrink back. "I'm not afraid of you."

His smile was cruel, dangerous. "You should be."

My heart thudded so loudly I thought he might hear it. But I held his stare, refusing to let him see fear.

"Take her back upstairs," Adrian said suddenly, his voice snapping through the silence.

The man from earlier stepped forward immediately.

I spun on my heel before he could touch me. "Don't bother. I'll walk myself."

The women tittered behind me as I strode toward the stairs, their laughter sharp and mocking. But I didn't look back.

I climbed the stairs quickly, my pulse racing, anger burning through my veins.

When I reached the room again and the lock clicked shut, I collapsed onto the bed, my hands shaking with fury.

I hated him.

I hated the arrogance in his voice, the smugness in his smile, the way he treated me like some game he could control.

But most of all, I hated how he had refused to answer.

What did my brother do?

And why did Adrian want me?