The walk to Dominic DeLuca's private wing felt like a death march.
Maya's footsteps were light, almost soundless against the marble floors, but her heart thudded so loudly she wondered if the guards lining the hallway could hear it. They stood like statues expressionless, armed, and disciplined enough to avoid meeting Dominic's eyes. No one in the dynasty dared look at him directly. Not unless they wanted to die young.
Dominic walked ahead of her, unhurried, every step precise and controlled. His black dress shirt rolled sleeves, tattoos dark, bold and visible even through the fabric. He looked almost too calm for the man who had executed someone at his own wedding celebration without blinking.
He hadn't spoken a word to her since the ceremony.
Not one.
Not when the dynasty cheered.
Not when the ring was placed on her finger.
Not even when she trembled through the oath.
Maya followed because she had no choice. She was his wife now bound by blood, threat, and fear.
They reached a door unlike the others: tall, carved from blackwood, marked with the Deluca crest a skull crowned with roses.
Dominic finally spoke.
"Inside."
Just that. Two syllables. Cold, merciless.
Her fingers shook as she pushed the heavy door open. The room beyond was dim, lit only by a few candles and the pale wash of moonlight spilling through tall windows. The bed, large and ominously prepared with white sheets, waited like a silent witness.
Maya's breath hitched. She already knew what this night meant in mafia culture. It didn't matter that she was terrified, that she had never even been kissed, that her wedding day had become a nightmare carved into her memory.
The dynasty expected proof.
Proof that the marriage was real.
Proof that she was untouched.
Proof that Dominic had taken what now belonged to him.
She wanted to scream. To run. To disappear into the shadows.
But Dominic closed the door behind them with a soft click.
The sound locked her fate into place.
He didn't approach her right away. His eyes cold, unreadable studied her for a long, uncomfortable moment.
"You're scared," he said, voice low, emotionless.
Maya swallowed hard. "Yes."
He stepped closer, each measured pace making the air tighter, heavier.
"Good. Fear keeps people alive in my world."
She flinched when he reached up, not touching her, simply brushing a stray curl away from her face without making contact. It still felt like a threat.
"Look at me," he ordered quietly.
She forced her eyes up, meeting his. Cold. Dark. No warmth. No affection.
Just ownership.
"You will change out of that dress, And you will sleep here."
Maya froze. "Sleep… here?"
His eyes flicked to the bed, then back to her. "Where else would my wife sleep?"
Her heart hammered painfully. She felt faint.
"But"
"Stop." His voice cut through hers instantly. "I'm not interested in your fear. Or your innocence."
That should have relieved her. Instead, it confused her.
Dominic's eyes hardened further.
"You are not ready"
Heat rose in Maya's cheeks. Shame. Relief. Confusion. None of it made sense.
She didn't speak. She didn't know how to.
Dominic moved to the edge of the bed, loosening the cuffs of his sleeves.
"I will not force your body," he said without looking at her. "But let that comfort stop there. Because your life, your choices, your future… those are already mine."
He tilted his head slightly, studying her reaction like someone analyzing a puzzle piece.
"Take off the dress."
Her heart stopped.
Her voice cracked. "Dominic, please… I"
His jaw tightened sharply, irritation flashing in his eyes.
"I am not going to touch you."
The words froze her.
He stepped back, as if distancing himself from any misunderstanding.
"I do not touch or take what is not ready to be claimed" he simply said
He continued, voice colder. "And you are trembling like a child thrown into a wolf's den"
She tried to steady her breathing, but fear kept clawing at her chest.
"You understand what the dynasty expects tonight?"
With a deep breathe she said "Yes."
"But they need proof," Maya whispered.
"Yes," he replied. "They do."
"And I do not intend for my wife to be paraded as a liar. Nor do I intend for anyone in this dynasty to question me."
He moved toward the bedside table and opened a drawer. Maya's breath faltered when she saw what he took out:
A small, silver blade.
Her blood ran cold.
Dominic glanced at her expression and scoffed darkly. "Relax. It's not for you."
He rolled his sleeve up, exposing the tattooed skin of his forearm. The ink twisted over muscle black roses, thorns, a skull embedded in the design. It looked violent. Beautiful. Dangerous.
He admired neither. He simply raised the blade without hesitation.
Maya gasped. "Dominic wait!"
He ignored her.
With one swift, practiced slide, he cut into his arm. Not too deep, but deep enough for blood to spill out.
Maya's knees nearly gave out.
He dropped the blade back into the drawer and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it loosely to slow the bleeding.
Then he walked to the bed, dragging his injured arm across the pristine sheets, leaving streaks of red.
Proof.
He turned toward her again, expression unreadable.
"This satisfies the dynasty," he said. "They will see blood. They will believe you were a virgin. And no one will question either of us."
Maya's voice was barely a whisper. "Why… why would you do that?"
Dominic looked at her as though the answer was obvious.
"Because you are mine, Maya.
And no one touches what is mine.
Not even to prove a tradition."
Her breath shuddered out.
He stepped closer, stopping just inches from her.
"Do not mistake this for kindness," he said, tone returning to ice. "I don't protect you because I care. I protect what belongs to me because that is how power stays intact."
His gaze flicked down her trembling form, then back to her face.
"Go to the bed."
Maya hesitated. "Dominic"
"Now."
Her heart thumping painfully, she obeyed, sitting carefully on the edge of the blood-streaked sheet.
Dominic did not touch her.
He simply leaned down, his face close enough that his breath had the faintest scent of smoke and something darker.
"Tonight is not about desire"
She swallowed hard.
"And you will learn soon enough that I always get what I want."
Then he pulled away, taking a seat in the armchair across the room, watching her like a predator observing prey it did not yet intend to hunt.
The candles flickered between them, shadows dancing across the walls like silent witnesses.
Maya sat motionless on the stained bed, staring at the man she had been forced to call husband.
He wasn't gentle.
He wasn't caring.
He wasn't her savior.
But he hadn't hurt her either.
A strange, unwanted warmth settled in her chest, a warmth she didn't understand yet.
Dominic DeLuca terrified her.
But somewhere deep inside, beneath the layers of fear and confusion, she could sense it:
He would also destroy anyone who tried to harm her.
Even if he destroyed her first.