The De Santo estate reeked of blood money. Gilded walls, towering chandeliers, mahogany furniture polished to a blinding shine. But all I saw was my reflection in the marble floor—small, powerless, and dropped into a lion's den with no teeth of my own.
Lucas hadn't spoken a single word to me since the SUV rolled past those iron gates. He didn't spare me a glance. Not one. But his silence was loud. Calculating. Dangerous. Somehow worse than any threat Matteo could've made.
Two guards flanked me up a sweeping staircase and down a hallway that curved like a spine. When we stopped in front of a door, one of them opened it and jerked his head toward the room.
"He said you stay here. Don't leave."
I narrowed my eyes. "Am I a prisoner?"
No answer. Just the soft click of the door shutting behind me.
The room was... huge. Cold. Beautiful in that soulless, expensive way. A king-sized bed stood untouched, like it hadn't known warmth in years. Heavy velvet curtains choked out the daylight. The silence hit harder than any slap. I stood there, arms wrapped around myself, still trembling from the memory of that black bag being yanked over my head.
What the hell was I doing here?
Why had Lucas brought me back?
Was I bait? A warning? Something worse?
I was pacing when the door unlocked. My heart jumped to my throat.
Lucas stepped in, alone. Still silent.
He crossed the room like I wasn't even there, poured himself a drink, then leaned against the dresser like this was just another day. Another problem to solve.
"Matteo shouldn't have touched you," he said finally, his voice low and unreadable.
I folded my arms tight against my chest. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
He looked at me then. Really looked. Ice blue eyes, unreadable. A stare that could pin someone to the floor without lifting a finger.
"You're safe now."
"Safe?" I let out a bitter laugh. "You're all criminals. Nothing about this is safe."
He pushed off the dresser and walked toward me, slow and sure. Each step felt like gravity bending toward him.
"You think I'm like them?" he asked.
"You're worse." I didn't flinch. "Matteo only threatened me. You don't need to. You just… look."
He stopped a foot away. Too close. I could feel the heat coming off his body. Every inch of him screamed control.
"You're in my house now, Nia. My rules."
"Then let me go."
His lips curled. Not kindly. Not cruelly either. Just like a man who already knew how this story ended.
"You think I took you from Matteo just to let you walk out the front door?"
I clenched my fists. "What do you want from me?"
"You."
That one word felt like a trapdoor under my feet.
He turned, walked to the window, and pulled the curtain back just enough to let a sliver of moonlight cut through the dark.
"Your father made a mistake. He killed someone he shouldn't have. Matteo retaliated. I intervened. That makes you mine now."
"I'm not property."
He turned back toward me. "You are until this war ends."
Fury boiled over. I stormed across the room and shoved him, hard.
"Screw your war."
He didn't move an inch. But his eyes darkened. His whole presence shifted—like a beast waking up just beneath the surface.
"Careful."
"Or what? You'll hit me? Kill me?" My voice cracked. "You ruin people. You ruin lives. You ruined mine."
I spun to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist. Firm. Not gentle. But not hurting me either.
"You don't get to walk away from this," he said. "Not when I just burned every bridge to get you back."
I froze. "What are you talking about?"
He let go and returned to his drink. Took a sip before answering.
"I crossed Matteo. Publicly. In this world, that means war."
My breath caught. "You risked everything... for me?"
His gaze dropped to the floor, just for a second. When he looked back up, his voice was rougher.
"You don't belong to them. You belong to me."
My stomach twisted. I hated him. I hated how he said that like my body had already agreed. I hated that I wasn't entirely afraid.
"You're sick."
He stepped closer, close enough I could feel his breath on my skin.
"You haven't seen me sick. Yet."
I backed up. "You think this power trip's going to break me? You think I'm just going to stay here like some well-behaved hostage?"
Lucas stared at me for a long beat. Then he smiled. Slowly.
"No. I think you'll fight me. Every step of the way."
I snatched the glass off the side table and threw it at his head. It missed by inches and exploded against the wall.
The smile disappeared.
He closed the space between us in two strides and grabbed my face—not roughly, but with that quiet authority that made my skin burn.
"You want to play games, Nia?" he whispered. "Be careful which ones. I don't lose."
I didn't back down. "Good. Neither do I."
We were chest to chest. His breath brushed my lips. I could feel the tension vibrating off him—and from me, too. My whole body was trembling, but not from fear. Not just fear.
He let go, stepped back, and spoke like he hadn't just touched me.
"You'll eat here. Sleep here. Guards will be outside your door."
"So I am a prisoner."
"You're alive. Matteo wouldn't have let you stay that way."
My voice dropped. "Why do you care?"
He didn't answer right away. Just walked toward the door like the conversation was over.
But before he stepped out, he paused.
"Because you haunt me," he said without turning around. "And I haven't decided if that's a gift or a curse."
The door clicked shut.
I stood there, still shaking. My wrist ached where he'd gripped it. My chest heaved.
And my heart… my heart was making a fool of me.
Because somehow, some twisted part of me felt safer here than I had in Matteo's hands.
And worse?
Some part of me didn't want to leave.
In the hallway, I heard Lucas's voice—quiet but sharp. He was on the phone.
"Keep eyes on her door. No one gets in. Not even family."
A pause. Then, lower, almost like a promi
se to himself.
"She doesn't know it yet, but she's the only leverage I have left. And if anyone lays a hand on her again... I'll bury them myself."