Ciara – POV

They say silence means peace. But in my father’s house, silence always meant something bad was coming.

I sat in his study, the air thick with cigar smoke. He hadn’t said a word since I walked in—just stared out the window.

“I’m being traded, aren’t I?” I finally asked.

He didn’t deny it. Just poured another drink.

“Luciano Moretti,” he muttered. “He’s taking you.”

My throat tightened. “Like a package?”

“Like a favor. A peace offering.”

I wanted to scream, throw something. But I knew better. In this family, emotions were weakness—especially from daughters. Especially from me.

Outside, black cars rolled in through the gates like a funeral procession.

I didn’t know much about Luciano. Just the whispers. A man who rose from ashes. A mafia don who burned down families to build his own. They called him the Reaper in silk.

Now he wanted me. And my father was handing me over like something old and broken.

Upstairs, Soraya found me struggling to button the white dress. My hands were shaking.

“You don’t have to be strong right now,” she said softly, fixing my hair. “Just breathe.”

“I’m marrying a man I’ve never met.”

“You’re surviving him. That’s different.”

She held my hands like a promise—If you fall, I’ll catch you. And I believed her.

Then the doors opened. The men came in.

And there he was.

Luciano Moretti.

Not a monster. Not a devil. But something colder.

He looked at me like I was a deal, not a person. Dark suit. Cold eyes. Hands in his pockets like he owned the air around him.

Mateo stood behind him—his second-in-command. Big. Scarred. His eyes flicked to Soraya… and didn’t move away.

My father stepped forward with a fake smile and held out his hand. “I give you my daughter.”

Luciano didn’t take it. He looked at me and said, “I don’t need your permission to take what’s mine.”

Later, in the car…

I sat in the backseat, watching the city lights flash by. Luciano hadn’t said a word since we left.

I finally turned to him. “Are you always this charming?”

He smirked. “Only when I’m nervous.”

“You don’t look nervous.”

“I’m not.”

Silence again. Then he said, “Your father’s house smelled like rot. I’m surprised you didn’t run.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I will,” he said.

Luciano – POV

She didn’t cry. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t beg.

That scared me more than tears ever could.

Ciara sat across from me like a ghost in white. But not the sad kind. The kind you don’t see coming.

She wasn’t afraid. She was thinking. And I knew—women who think are dangerous.

“Your father offered me your hand,” I said.

She didn’t answer.

“He called it a truce. I call it collateral.”

Still nothing.

She wasn’t beautiful in a soft way. She was the kind of beautiful storms are made of.

This was going to be trouble.

The car stopped outside my estate. Not a house—a fortress.

Mateo waited at the door. “She’s not what I expected.”

“She never is.”

Inside, everything smelled like gun oil and secrets.

I showed her to her room. Didn’t touch her. Didn’t speak. But before I left, I said, “Tomorrow, we talk.”

She looked at me. “Talk or threaten?”

I didn’t answer.

Ciara – POV

I couldn’t sleep.

The bed was soft. The room was cold. The silence was worse than anything.

I kept seeing Soraya’s face as the car drove away—how she mouthed, I’ll find you.

But no one ever finds the girl after she’s married to a devil.

At dawn, a knock.

It wasn’t a maid. It was him.

Luciano. Same black shirt. Same ice-cold stare.

“You hungry?”

“No.”

“Good. Let’s talk.”

The dining room was empty. Two untouched plates.

“I know what kind of man you are,” I said.

“No, you don’t. You know stories.”

“Are they wrong?”

“Are you?”

He leaned forward. “Here are the rules: You’re my wife. That means you don’t run, you don’t spy, and you don’t bleed for men who want me dead.”

“And in return?”

“I protect you. No matter what.”

“And if I want more than protection?”

“Then you’re in the wrong house.”

Later…

That night I stood by the window and watched the city glow like it was warning me.

He didn’t lock the door.

Didn’t touch me.

Didn’t even say goodnight.

But I felt it—the way he watched me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Like he didn’t trust me.

Like he wanted to.

And maybe that was worse.

Soraya – POV

I didn’t trust the Morettis.

But I’d walk through fire to bring Ciara back.

So I came. Uninvited. Unwanted.

The gates nearly stayed closed.

Then a voice buzzed in through the intercom.

“She’s expected,” Luciano said.

Liar.

Inside was colder than I imagined.

And the first face I saw wasn’t hers.

It was Mateo.

A walking statue. Scar on his jaw. Eyes sharp, like he saw too much.

“You’re the best friend,” he said.

“You’re the watchdog.”

His lip twitched. “I bite.”

“I’ve been bitten before.”

Ciara – POV

Seeing Soraya again almost broke me.

She hugged me like I was glass—shattered, not fragile.

“You okay?” she whispered.

“No.”

We laughed.

Luciano came in with Mateo behind him. Like a storm with its shadow.

He looked at me—not soft, not cruel. Just steady.

“This isn’t a fairy tale,” he said.

“I know,” I said. “But I’m still the bride.”

He looked too long before turning to Soraya.

“You can stay. But you follow my rules.”

“And if I don’t?”

Mateo stepped in. “Then I drag you out myself.”

Soraya didn’t blink. “I’d like to see you try.”

They stared each other down. Fire meeting fire.

And I realized—the real war wasn’t out there.

It was right here.

Luciano – POV

She didn’t fear me. That made her dangerous.

Ciara stood in the study, arms crossed.

“I want the truth,” she said.

“About what?”

“My father. You. Why I’m really here.”

“You’re here because your father sold you to save himself.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

As she turned to go, I reached for her wrist. Not to stop her—just to pause.

“You don’t belong to him anymore.”

She looked back. Eyes blazing. “Then who do I belong to?”

“To yourself,” I said. “If you’re lucky.”