Morning filtered weakly through the tall windows of the DeLuca dynasty hall a vast chamber of black marble, iron carved symbols, and shadows that seemed to breathe on their own. It wasn't a room meant for comfort. It was a room built for power, judgment, and fear.
Maya walked beside Dominic, her steps small compared to his long, controlled strides. Her wrists trembled where her hands were clasped tightly together, hidden in the folds of the white silk dress he'd ordered her to wear. She felt exposed. Displayed. Like prey being marched into the den of predators.
Dominic didn't look at her once.
He didn't slow, didn't offer reassurance, didn't acknowledge her anxiety. His presence alone was a warning to her and to everyone watching.
The double doors opened, and the council turned as one.
Twelve men and women, all older, all hardened, all powerful. Heads of families allied to the DeLucas. Their expressions ranged from cold interest to thinly veiled disdain.
And at the head of the long obsidian table sat Salvatore DeLuca.
Dominic's father.
His gray hair was slicked back, his suit immaculate, his posture regal in the way only a man accustomed to absolute obedience could manage. His eyes sharp, icy, and pitiless slid over Maya like she was a stain he wasn't sure came out.
"So," Salvatore said, voice echoing off stone. "The Sinclair girl."
A ripple went through the table. Some leaned forward. Others smirked. One woman clicked her tongue, almost disappointed.
Dominic remained standing behind Maya, a dark, silent wall of power.
Salvatore's lips lifted faintly. "Step forward, girl."
Maya's heart hammered. She hesitated just for a second.
Dominic's voice cut through her hesitation like a blade.
"Move."
Cold. Detached. Commanding.
She obeyed.
Walking toward Salvatore felt like walking toward a guillotine. His gaze dissected her with clinical cruelty, stripping her down to the bone.
"She looks fragile," one councilman murmured.
"She'll break," another whispered.
"Pretty little thing," a third said with a low laugh.
Dominic's jaw flexed once a warning none of them dared to test twice.
Salvatore tapped his finger on the table. "Tell me, girl… what makes you worthy of the DeLuca name? Of power? Of my son?"
Maya swallowed. Her voice almost failed her.
"I… I don't know if I am worthy."
A few council members snickered.
"But," she continued softly, "I didn't choose this. And I don't intend to embarrass your family."
The hall went quiet.
Not because her answer was strong but because she dared to speak at all.
Salvatore stood.
His steps were slow, deliberate, predatory as he circled her like inspecting merchandise.
"Do you know what it means to carry our name?" he asked, leaning close enough that she felt his breath on her neck. "It means fear. It means blood. It means loyalty until death."
He reached out.
Maya flinched instinctively when his hand brushed her hair back.
Salvatore smiled.
A cruel, knowing smile.
"She trembles," he announced to the council. "She fears."
He leaned closer, voice dripping disdain. "Fearful women die quickly in our world."
Maya braced for more humiliation.
But Dominic stepped forward.
The shift in the room was immediate.
Dead silence. A ripple of tension. Almost every council member straightened, eyes sharpening.
Dominic's voice was low, cold, and lethal.
"Remove your hand from my wife."
Salvatore didn't move. Didn't blink. "I am evaluating her."
"You don't touch what belongs to me."
The temperature in the hall dropped. Even the air seemed to stop moving.
Salvatore finally withdrew his hand, his expression unreadable. "Possessive, are we?"
Dominic's jaw ticked once. "I don't repeat myself."
A murmur passed through the council approval mixed with fear. Dominic was young, but his authority surpassed even the old guard. They knew it. Salvatore knew it.
Salvatore resumed his seat. "Very well. We shall evaluate her another way."
He nodded to a man at the side of the room one of the dynasty guards. The man stepped forward, carrying a polished silver dagger.
Maya's breath caught.
Dominic's eyes flickered once a warning but he did not stop the man.
"This is tradition," Salvatore said, folding his hands. "Every bride of the DeLuca line proves her loyalty. A simple test."
The guard approached Maya, lifting the dagger.
"Hold out your hand," he said.
Maya froze.
This felt like a trap like one wrong move would destroy her completely.
Dominic watched, expression unreadable, but he did not intervene. He simply stood like a shadow carved from stone, waiting to see her choice.
Salvatore raised a brow. "If she refuses, the council will take it as disrespect"
Maya sucked in a sharp breath.
Slowly, she extended her hand.
The council leaned forward.
The guard pressed the blade lightly to her palm. Just enough to break the skin a small, sharp slice. Maya flinched but did not pull away.
Blood welled up, a crimson bead rolling down her wrist.
The guard nodded, stepping back.
Salvatore lifted his chin. "And now we see if she has a spine."
He turned to the council. "Speak, girl. Tell us why you think you can survive here."
Maya swallowed the sting in her palm and forced herself to look at every pair of staring eyes.
"I don't know your world," she admitted quietly. "I don't pretend to. But I do know this… I won't run. I won't hide. And I won't fail in front of people waiting to watch me break."
Silence.
Then, one councilwoman leaned back, intrigued. "She has some fire after all."
Another nodded. "Better than expected."
Salvatore studied Maya again,
"It remains to be seen," he said. "But she did not cower. That is something."
Dominic stepped forward at last.
His presence wrapped around her like steel not tender, not comforting, but fiercely protective.
"My wife has been evaluated," he said. "And none of you will touch her again."
He looked directly at Salvatore.
"Ever."
Salvatore's lips twitched. "So protective already."
Dominic didn't answer. He didn't need to. His authority filled the room like smoke suffocating and absolute.
The council rose slowly, murmuring among themselves, their eyes lingering on Maya with new calculation.
Some respected her.
Some doubted her.
Some hated her.
But none could ignore her now.
As the meeting ended, Dominic placed a firm hand on Maya's lower back not gentle, but claiming.
"You handled yourself," he said quietly as they walked out.
She glanced up at him, surprised. "Is that… praise?"
Dominic didn't look at her.
"It's a fact," he said coldly. "Don't get used to it."
But she saw it.
For just a moment
A flicker of something in his eyes.
Not warmth.
Not affection.
But possession sharpened with something dangerously close to approval.
And in the DeLuca dynasty…
Approval was everything.