The ride to Dominic DeLuca's world felt like a descent into something dark and ancient.
Maya sat stiffly in the back of the black SUV, her hands trembling in her lap while two stone faced men flanked her on either side. She had tried to ask questions at first Where are we going? Why me? What did my father agree to? but the men didn't blink, didn't answer, didn't even look at her. They stared straight ahead, disciplined like soldiers trained never to acknowledge fear or weakness.
And sitting in the front seat, silent as carved granite, was Dominic.
He hadn't glanced at her once since they left the estate. Not a single word. Not even a flicker of emotion. He was a wall cold, unyielding, terrifying.
The car sped through the night, leaving behind the glittering lights of her childhood home and plunging into long stretches of empty road lined with forest. No houses. No witnesses. Nothing but darkness.
It felt deliberate.
As though he wanted her to understand: once she entered his world, there was no going back.
Hours passed before the car finally slowed.
Large iron gates rose ahead, towering and menacing, engraved with an emblem she'd never seen before on a skull crowned with a serpent. As the gates groaned open, men in black suits stepped aside, bowing their heads with rigid fear the moment Dominic stepped out of the vehicle.
Maya noticed something instantly: not one of them looked him in the eye.
Not one.
Dominic's presence rolled through the air like pressure from a storm. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't gesture. He simply walked, and grown men moved out of his way as though their lives depended on it.
Maybe they did.
You come with me now, Maya. The priest is waiting."
A chill raced down her spine. "You already planned the wedding?"
"Everything is prepared," he said. "Your dress. The ceremony. The witnesses. The ring."
Her breath stuttered.
"You will walk into the DeLuca dynasty as my wife," Dominic continued. "And you will take the oath before every member. Once you do, your life belongs to me fully, legally, irrevocably."
Her heart squeezed with panic. "You can't force me"
Dominic's eyes flickered with the faintest warning not anger, just cold inevitability.
"I already have"
Dominic didn't wait for her. He was already striding up the stairs toward enormous double doors.
"Move," a guard muttered behind her.
She followed.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted. Warm light glowed from chandeliers made of iron and crystal. Men in tailored suits lined the walls, some with scarred knuckles, others with cold, dead eyes. And at the far end of the great hall…
A priest waited.
Her heart nearly stopped.
Maya froze. "What is this?"
Dominic turned to her slowly, his gaze colder than the stone beneath their feet.
"The beginning," he said simply.
"In the DeLuca dynasty," he said, "no outsider enters without becoming one of us."
"What do you mean?" she whispered.
"Do not mistake your position, Maya."
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
"You were given to me. This union is binding. You will wear my name, my mark, my ring. There is no refusal."
Tears filled her eyes, but she forced them back. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart.
Dominic released her with a flick of his hand, already turning away as though the conversation was finished.
Two women stepped forward then, both dressed in black, both with emotionless faces.
"Prepare her," Dominic said without looking back.
The women bowed their heads. "Yes, sir."
Maya shook her head frantically. "No please, please, I don't want this"
Dominic paused.
Just paused.
"You don't have to want it, You only have to obey."
The women took her by the arms, guiding her through a side door and into a dimly lit room. On the bed lay a wedding dress ivory silk, delicate lace, handcrafted, beautifully.
Her breath trembled. "He… prepared this?"
The women dressed her quietly, their hands gentle but hurried. Her hair was pinned, her skin powdered, her lips stained a soft shade of rose. When they finally placed the veil over her head, Maya hardly recognized the girl in the mirror.
She felt terrified.
When they brought her back into the hall, the room fell silent not in admiration, but in reverence. Dominic stood at the altar, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable. His men stood like stone pillars, eyes lowered.
No one dared breathe too loudly.
Maya's pulse raced so violently she could hardly hear the priest begin.
"We are gathered tonight," he said, "to welcome a new heiress into the DeLuca bloodline."
Dominic's eyes lifted to her then sharp, cold, consuming.
"And to bind her to the heir."
Her breath faltered.
The priest opened a velvet box. Inside lay a ring made of dark metal, heavy and ancient, adorned with the carved skull of the dynasty. Its eyes were tiny diamonds that seemed to stare back at her.
"Step forward," the priest commanded.
Her legs refused to move.
Dominic took one step toward her.
Just one.
And her body obeyed before her mind could catch up.
She stood before him trembling. He didn't offer a smile, didn't soften, didn't pretend. His voice was a razor's edge when he spoke.
"Kneel."
Her heart stopped. "What?"
The entire hall remained frozen.
Dominic's jaw tightened. "Kneel."
Maya sank slowly, painfully, until she knelt before him, veil trembling, hands shaking.
He took the ring from the box.
This was not gentle.
This was not loving.
This was a claim.
"This ring," he said lowly, "has been worn by every woman who became a DeLuca. From this moment, you bear our mark. You are tied to our bloodline. To me."
He slipped the cold metal onto her finger.
It felt heavier than chains.
"Maya Sinclair," the priest declared, "you enter tonight not as a guest… but as the new heiress of the DeLuca dynasty, now repeat after me"
"By blood and shadow, I swear myself to the Deluca bloodline .
My silence is law, my loyalty unbroken.
In life until death claims me, I remain his."
Maya repeated the vows as instructed.
Dominic reached down, gripping her chin, forcing her to look up at him through her veil.
"You belong to me now," he murmured, voice dark as midnight.
The hall erupted with applause not joyful, but powerful, ritualistic, frightening.
And Maya realized…
This wasn't just a marriage.
This was an initiation.
And she was now bound to the most feared man in the city for the rest of her life.