Ciara – POV

Living in the Moretti house felt like sleeping with danger. Even the quiet had a way of feeling sharp, like it could cut you. I tried to seem strong calm and in control. But the truth was, there were nights I barely held myself together.

Every step, every breath had to be careful. One mistake, and I’d vanish like I never existed.

Luciano stood across the hallway that morning, just watching me.

Not like a man who wanted something from me. Not like a man attracted to me.

Just curious.

He looked at me like someone watching a thundercloud, wondering if it was going to pour or destroy everything.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“And you’re dangerous,” I replied.

He smiled, not warmly. “Only when I have to be.”

I wanted to ask what made him decide when that was. But I already knew the answer.

Soraya – POV

I hated this house.

Everything was too clean, too quiet. Like nothing truly lived here—only died here.

But then there was Mateo.

He was rude, blunt, always watching.

During breakfast, I caught him staring again.

“Do you have something to say?” I asked sharply.

He shrugged. “Just trying to guess how long before you stab someone.”

“That depends. How close are you planning to stand?”

He laughed. Actually laughed.

And the worst part? It made me smile too.

Luciano – POV

Ciara had questions I didn’t want to answer.

About her father. About what we’ve done. About who I really am.

She asked anyway.

And I respected that.

One night, in the quiet, she looked at me with those sharp eyes and whispered, “Why me? Why not anyone else?”

I could’ve told her the truth. That when I first saw her, I saw someone still whole in a world full of broken people.

But I didn’t.

I just said, “Because I knew you’d survive.”

Ciara – POV

Luciano wasn’t just dangerous  he was precise. Controlled.

But never toward me.

He kept his distance when I expected him to be cruel. Stayed calm when I feared he’d lose it.

And the strange part? I noticed the gentle parts in him. Hidden under all that violence.

Like maybe there was a person under the killer.

Later that night

Gunshots rang out before the alarms even started.

Luciano jumped up immediately. Mateo too.

“Stay inside,” Luciano told me firmly.

But I didn’t listen.

I ran barefoot, fear crawling up my spine, cold floor beneath my feet.

By the time I reached the courtyard, Luciano had already caught the intruder.

He didn’t ask twice.

One warning. One shot.

Blood hit the walls. Silence fell like a weight.

And in that moment, I saw him clearly—not just as someone who kills, but as someone who kills for the people he quietly cares about.

He turned to me slowly. His face gave away nothing.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said.

“And yet… here I am,” I whispered.

He looked at me a second longer than he should’ve. Then walked past.

But as he did, his hand brushed mine

Just a second.

Like a storm testing the wind before it breaks.

Ciara – POV

I always thought my wedding day would smell like flowers.

But all I could smell was gunpowder.

The church was beautiful but cold.

Tall arches like old bones.

Candles that barely lit the room.

And rows of men who had seen more death than prayer.

I stood in white at the door.

But this didn’t feel like a gown.

It felt like a burial cloth.

Soraya held my hand. “It’s almost over,” she whispered.

But she was wrong.

This wasn’t the end.

It was the start of something we could never take back.

Luciano stood waiting.

Black suit. Black tie.

A statue made of secrets.

He didn’t flinch when he saw me.

Didn’t smile.

Just looked.

Like a lion deciding if he’d protect me… or tear me apart.

They called me brave.

But they didn’t know I’d already died inside.

I walked the aisle alone.

My father wasn’t there.

He wasn’t invited.

He didn’t deserve to be.

The priest’s words sounded like warnings, not blessings.

No love. No joy.

Just a dark vow no one could break.

Luciano turned to me. His voice calm.

“I do.”

No hesitation. No feeling.

Like the choice had already been made long ago.

Then it was my turn.

But before I could speak, he leaned in close—his breath warm on my neck.

“If you run, I’ll come for you.

If you scream, I’ll quiet you.

If you fall apart… I’ll still choose you.”

“I do,” I whispered.

But inside, all I could think was

I don’t even know who I’m turning into.

That Night

The wedding suite was quiet. Too quiet.

Soft firelight danced across the room, touching the silk bedspread.

Shadows crept along the walls.

There was a bottle of champagne no one touched.

Luciano poured himself a glass but didn’t offer me one.

He sat in the chair across from me, watching.

“I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it,” he said.

“Neither did I.”

“Do you hate me yet?”

“Maybe. Soon.”

He smirked slightly. “Good.”

Then he stood. Took off his jacket. Rolled up his sleeves.

He looked just as dangerous now as he ever had.

But then he surprised me.

He asked something I wasn’t ready for.

“Did your father ever hurt you?”

It felt like the air had been knocked from my chest.

Not because it was cruel.

But because it wasn’t.

He didn’t mock me. Didn’t press.

Just waited.

I said nothing.

Because silence was still safer than honesty.

Luciano stepped closer.

“You don’t have to like me,” he said.

“But you’re mine now.

And if anyone touches you without my say…”

He leaned in.

“I’ll kill them.”

He didn’t touch me that night.

Didn’t try to.

He just left me with my thoughts, my fear… and something else.

Curiosity.

Something far more dangerous than hate was growing between us.