Matteo

The sight of her nearly broke me.

Adriana.

Her wrists were raw, the skin flayed and swollen from steel cuffs that had bitten into her delicate flesh.

Duct tape gagged her, cutting into the soft curve of her cheeks. She looked small, fragile, chained like a captive animal—my own wife.

My chest burned with a rage so violent I thought it would rip me apart from the inside. Savio’s corpse, lying in a twisted heap on the floor, wasn’t enough.

His men sprawled lifeless around him, wasn’t enough. Nothing would be enough until I carved his name out of existence.

Every time I thought I had buried him, he clawed his way back into my world like a rotting ghost. And now this. His filth on her. His chains around her wrists. His stench contaminating what was mine.

No. It ended here.

I dropped to my knees before her, the blood on the floor soaking through my trousers.

With a growl I didn’t recognise as human, I snapped the cuffs off her wrists. The metal gave way like brittle twigs in my grip. The angry cuts beneath them, raw and reddened, made my vision swim with fury.

My princess. Adriana was hurt because of me.

I peeled the tape from her lips with trembling hands, terrified of ripping her fragile skin.

“I failed you,” I whispered, my voice hoarse, breaking against the edges of grief and rage.

My forehead rested against hers; my words were a vow. “Never again. I swear on my life, princess. I’ll defend you with my last breath. And if I fall, my men will guard you in death.”

Her head shook violently, strands of tangled hair falling into her face. A tear escaped, sliding down her cheek. Her trembling palm pressed against my jaw, forcing me to meet her eyes.

“You didn’t fail me, Matteo. Please.” Her voice was weak, but her strength lay bare in her eyes. “Stop blaming yourself. If anything, Matteo, you saved me. Twice tonight. I… I owe you my life.”

Indebted.

The word tore through me like glass. She spoke as if she owed me, as if the very air in her lungs wasn’t mine already. She didn’t understand. I was the one indebted. I owed her everything.

I crushed her against me, burying my face in her hair, inhaling her scent, vanilla beneath the copper tang of blood. For one moment, the world stopped.

But not for long.

Because we were not alone.

Savio’s woman knelt beside his corpse. Her fingers were stained red, trembling as they traced the cold outline of his face. Her shoulders shook, but no sob escaped her lips.

Marco had already briefed me. She wasn’t just a mistress. She was Madonna, His girlfriend and mother of his secret children.

Adriana stiffened in my arms. Her eyes darted toward the girl, wide, urgent. “Matteo,” she whispered, pleading. “Please. She did nothing to me.”

I pressed a kiss against her forehead, lingering there, claiming her with something deeper than touch. Her plea softened the iron in me, but only slightly.

“I’ll spare her,” I murmured. “But remember, princess… she may be useful.”

Marco stepped forward. His shadow stretched across the blood-slick floor like a blade. He didn’t need weapons to draw blood; his voice was enough.

“Your name,” he commanded, flat and merciless.

The girl startled. Her lips trembled, eyes wide and downcast. “M-Madonna,” she stammered.

“Look at me,” Marco ordered. His tone cut sharper than steel. Slowly, she raised her gaze. Tears streaked her cheeks. Her whole body quivered, and I knew it wasn't from cold, but terror.

“You think you survived by chance?” Marco leaned closer, his voice soft, deadly. “No. You live because we allow it. Your life is deliberate mercy. Do not mistake it for kindness.”

Adriana tensed, heart-first as always, but when she moved toward them, I wrapped my arm tight around her waist. She gasped softly at my restraint.

“He knows what he’s doing,” I whispered into her hair. “She’s not innocent. She watched while you suffered.”

Her eyes dropped to her wrists, to the red rings carved into her flesh. A broken sound escaped her throat. When she lifted her gaze again, it was steadier. “You’re right.”

Marco crouched, slow and deliberate, like death itself descending. “Two little girls,” he said evenly. “Yours with Savio. They’re in Europe, yes? With your aunt Jane.”

The blood drained from Madonna’s face. Her lips parted, a strangled sound caught in her throat.

“How—”

Marco silenced her with a flick of his hand. He pulled out his phone, pressing a button.

A live video filled the screen. A middle-aged woman sat on a couch, laughing softly as she played with two little girls. They were safe for now.

The scream Madonna released splintered the air. She collapsed forward, palms slapping the bloodied floor. “Please! I beg you! They’re all I have. I’ll do anything, just don’t touch my babies.” Her voice broke. “Please!”

Marco’s gaze didn’t flicker. “Then you’ll work for us. You’ll infiltrate the Colombos. Make sure they never suspect you. Fail, and I’ll show you how easily children die.”

Her whole body shook. “They’ll kill me.”

“Then don’t let them find out,” Marco said, arms folding. His tone was detached, cruelly logical. “You’re lucky we should’ve killed you for Savio’s sins. Don’t forget that.”

Her eyes darted to Adriana, then to me. Wide, desperate. Finally, she bowed her head, voice breaking on the vow. “From this moment… You are my Capo, Matteo.”

I didn’t acknowledge her. I didn’t need to. I lifted my hand, signalling Marco. My men filed out silently, boots thudding against the blood-soaked ground.

The room emptied, leaving only silence, Savio’s corpse cooling on the floor, and Adriana on my lap.

That was when she shifted.

The second, she realised where she sat. She was straddling me, pressed flush against my body.

Her cheeks flushed bright red. She tried to scramble away, but I tightened my grip on her waist.

I wasn’t letting her go. Not now. Not when the warmth of her body was the only thing keeping me from madness.

Her heartbeat pounded against my chest. Her thighs clenched instinctively around me, a small betrayal of the storm raging inside her.

She avoided my eyes, but I hooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her gaze up.

Her pupils were blown wide, her lips parted as though she couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t be ashamed,” I said, my voice low with hunger I couldn’t hide. “You’re mine. Let them see.”

I knew she was a virgin, so her body’s reaction was normal. I respected her for all those years, so I never really touched her.

Her breath came quick, shallow. Trembling, but not with fear.

I felt it.

The way her nails dug into my shirt, anchoring herself. The way her thighs tightened around me as though she could fuse us. The way her pulse quickened when my breath brushed her ear.

Heat coiled low in my gut, my control thinning thread by thread.

Her eyes flicked to my mouth, then back to my eyes. Her lips parted, but she bit them closed again, as though afraid of what might slip out.

“You feel it too,” I whispered, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

She shivered violently, her entire body betraying her, no matter how tightly she pressed her lips shut.

I didn’t kiss her. Holding back was a cruelty of its own. I wanted her desperately. But I would not take all of her until she begged me to.

Finally, a sharp gasp broke from her chest. She tore herself away, stumbling off my lap. Her hands flew to her face, hiding crimson cheeks.

Thank God my men were gone. They didn't need to see the way she trembled for me.

Her gaze darted back, her lips parting, breathless. “Mat—”

I didn’t let her finish.

“Marry me, princess.”