Amelie’s POVThe world shrank to the silence in my ear.Dante’s voice was gone.No more orders. No more warnings. No more anything.Just a heavy, stifling pause that filled the low-lit study, as if the air itself were holding its breath, waiting.Vargas was still inside me, still panting against my skin, completely oblivious.I didn’t flinch.I didn’t panic.I simply decided: It was time.His hands roamed lazily over my hips, greedy and slow, as if he thought he had all night to ruin me. His smile was lazy, drunk on the illusion that he was in control.Good.I smiled back at him — a soft, sweet thing, all parted lips and breathy sighs — and kissed him again.Slow. Lingering. Poisonous.He moaned into my mouth, grinding up into me, chasing the high he didn’t know would be his last. I shifted, rolling my hips with lazy cruelty, making him think it was pleasure that flushed my skin and not the cold, mechanical calculation humming beneath.As I moved, my fingers slipped down the curve of
Amelie’s POVI ran my fingers through my hair, smoothing the strands that clung to my skin with the remnants of him. My dress, still rumpled from the violence that had just unfolded, slid easily back into place as I tugged the fabric down over my thighs.I didn’t flinch. Not once.The red lipstick smeared across my mouth wasn’t my concern, nor was the faint warmth still lingering between my legs from the moment I’d turned Vargas into a corpse.I was a weapon, and weapons didn’t show weakness.I took a long breath, watching my reflection in the polished wood of the study’s door. I didn’t see the girl who had entered this house — the one trembling with nerves, with plans, with the hope that things could end differently.That girl was dead now.She had died when Vargas fell, and something else, something darker, had risen in her place.I left the study without a sound, the door clicking shut behind me. The air of the hallway felt thick, as if the walls themselves were suffocating me with
_Amelie’s POV_My eyes peeled open, immediately closing off when the harsh might hit them.The first thing I felt was the ache.Not pain exactly—though there was that too—but something deeper. A heaviness in my limbs. A sluggishness in my bloodAn after effect of the drugs I had inhaled? Maybe.The second thing I felt was the ropes.Thick. Tight. Binding my wrists above my head, my ankles spread wide, strapped to cold steel. I was stretched out, helpless, my back arching slightly from the tension.Déjà vu slammed into me like a fist.This had happened before. In another house. Another lifetime.I remember the last thing that had happened. I had killed Vargas and Dante left me.And then I fell unconscious.The realization that I had been kidnapped by Varga's men hit me and my heart dropped in panic.I needed to get out of here, needed to escape.But the ropes around my wrists were tied so tightly, that escape wasn't an option.I tried to figure out where I was, and that was when my eye
Amelie’s POVI was still unable to see much of anything around me o anything for that matter.The blindfold around my eyes was there, tightened.The leather cuffs circled my wrists like a mockery of freedom. Softer than the ropes. Almost gentle.But they were chains all the same.Chains I hadn’t fought Or tried to get out of.Chains I’d been given.The room was too quiet now. No more ragged breathing. No more cruel touches.Just the sound of my own blood pounding behind my ears.And them.Watching.I couldn't see them but I could very much feel them.Very soon, the blindfold was peeled off my face and the first thing that came to sight was Matteo crouched in front of me, the smirk wiped clean from his face.In its place was something worse. Something infinitely heavier.Possession.I had never seen this look on his face ever before and it sent thrills down my spine.He tilted my chin up with two fingers, forcing me to meet his eyes.His thumb brushed my split lip, almost tender, almos
Amelie’s POVThe cuffs cut into my wrists as I came back to myself.I was still tied up—arms stretched behind me, ankles parted, body aching in ways I didn’t want to name. Bruises bloomed across my body, their obvious handprints all over my body.The collar burned against my neck, but for some reason I stared up at them, my eyes begging them to touch me.But they didn’t. They didn’t untie me immediately as well.They didn’t comfort me.They stood there—Nico, Luca, Matteo—watching me like I was a painting they had finished defacing. Like they were admiring the ruin they had made.I hated how my heart responded.How my body sang for them even through the wreckage. How it begged to be touched.“You survived,” Luca said finally, voice flat. No warmth. No affection.“That’s more than most could say.”Did he mean to survive killing a Madia Don? Or survive the three of them.Matteo crouched beside me, tilting his head like he was studying a broken doll. His fingers brushed my cheek—tender,
_Amelie’s POV_To every bride, the day of her wedding was meant to be the happiest day of her life. Filled with joy and any other thing that classifies as ‘happy’. It was meant to be the best thing that has ever happened in her life.But not me. Of course not me. The gods forbid that Amelie DaVinci be happy even though it was for a day.Today would forever be the worst day of my life. And as I sat on the floor with my hands tied behind me and my mouth gagged, I tried to understand what led me here._A few hours ago_“But Papa I don't want to get married,” I complained to my fifty-five years old father, hoping to speak some sense into him.I had heard from the maids that I would be getting married today and I immediately rushed to him to confirm.Imagine that, not hearing from your own father who had set it up but from the maids who were ordered whispering about it in excitement.I had just turned twenty, the last thing I needed was to get married.“Amelie, we have talked about this,”
_Amelie’s POV_I let out a groan as my eyes peeled open, confusion filling me up. My mind was a haze as I tried to remember what had happened, but that was a chore on its own.Everything was a jumbled mess, and each word I tried to say ended up like a sound made by an estranged animal.The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the pounding ache in my head. It felt like a drum was being beaten inside my skull. Or someone was having an orgy in there.And the second thing? I was tied up.My wrists were bound tightly behind me, the coarse rope digging into my skin. I tried to move my arms a bit, but I let out a low hiss in pain.Whoever had tied this was definitely trying to prevent me from setting myself loose.I tried to move my legs but my ankles were similarly restrained, leaving me completely immobilized.Great, I was tied up with ropes meant to hold down Artemis.I peered into the darkness, the dim light hanging over my head preventing me from seeing much. I wasn’t certain if I
Amelie’s POVI still had that day carved into the back of my mind, constantly reminding me of what I had done.The heat from the fire was intense, like it wanted to reach out and swallow me whole. My chest tightened with the thick smoke in the air, but I couldn’t move. I just stood there, frozen, staring at the house that was now completely engulfed in flames.Something I had none. Not that it was a mistake, not that I had slept of with the fire place on, causing a fire.But because I had poured a trail of fuel round the house and set it ablaze.I was that girl.Beside me, my father stood tall, his face cold and expressionless. The orange glow from the fire flickered across his features, but nothing softened that hard look in his eyes.He stared on intently like he was waiting for some sort of movement in the fire, but I knew it was practically impossible.There’s no way they would have gotten out of the fire on time, I knew that much.Father made me make sure of it. After a few minut
Amelie’s POVThe cuffs cut into my wrists as I came back to myself.I was still tied up—arms stretched behind me, ankles parted, body aching in ways I didn’t want to name. Bruises bloomed across my body, their obvious handprints all over my body.The collar burned against my neck, but for some reason I stared up at them, my eyes begging them to touch me.But they didn’t. They didn’t untie me immediately as well.They didn’t comfort me.They stood there—Nico, Luca, Matteo—watching me like I was a painting they had finished defacing. Like they were admiring the ruin they had made.I hated how my heart responded.How my body sang for them even through the wreckage. How it begged to be touched.“You survived,” Luca said finally, voice flat. No warmth. No affection.“That’s more than most could say.”Did he mean to survive killing a Madia Don? Or survive the three of them.Matteo crouched beside me, tilting his head like he was studying a broken doll. His fingers brushed my cheek—tender,
Amelie’s POVI was still unable to see much of anything around me o anything for that matter.The blindfold around my eyes was there, tightened.The leather cuffs circled my wrists like a mockery of freedom. Softer than the ropes. Almost gentle.But they were chains all the same.Chains I hadn’t fought Or tried to get out of.Chains I’d been given.The room was too quiet now. No more ragged breathing. No more cruel touches.Just the sound of my own blood pounding behind my ears.And them.Watching.I couldn't see them but I could very much feel them.Very soon, the blindfold was peeled off my face and the first thing that came to sight was Matteo crouched in front of me, the smirk wiped clean from his face.In its place was something worse. Something infinitely heavier.Possession.I had never seen this look on his face ever before and it sent thrills down my spine.He tilted my chin up with two fingers, forcing me to meet his eyes.His thumb brushed my split lip, almost tender, almos
_Amelie’s POV_My eyes peeled open, immediately closing off when the harsh might hit them.The first thing I felt was the ache.Not pain exactly—though there was that too—but something deeper. A heaviness in my limbs. A sluggishness in my bloodAn after effect of the drugs I had inhaled? Maybe.The second thing I felt was the ropes.Thick. Tight. Binding my wrists above my head, my ankles spread wide, strapped to cold steel. I was stretched out, helpless, my back arching slightly from the tension.Déjà vu slammed into me like a fist.This had happened before. In another house. Another lifetime.I remember the last thing that had happened. I had killed Vargas and Dante left me.And then I fell unconscious.The realization that I had been kidnapped by Varga's men hit me and my heart dropped in panic.I needed to get out of here, needed to escape.But the ropes around my wrists were tied so tightly, that escape wasn't an option.I tried to figure out where I was, and that was when my eye
Amelie’s POVI ran my fingers through my hair, smoothing the strands that clung to my skin with the remnants of him. My dress, still rumpled from the violence that had just unfolded, slid easily back into place as I tugged the fabric down over my thighs.I didn’t flinch. Not once.The red lipstick smeared across my mouth wasn’t my concern, nor was the faint warmth still lingering between my legs from the moment I’d turned Vargas into a corpse.I was a weapon, and weapons didn’t show weakness.I took a long breath, watching my reflection in the polished wood of the study’s door. I didn’t see the girl who had entered this house — the one trembling with nerves, with plans, with the hope that things could end differently.That girl was dead now.She had died when Vargas fell, and something else, something darker, had risen in her place.I left the study without a sound, the door clicking shut behind me. The air of the hallway felt thick, as if the walls themselves were suffocating me with
Amelie’s POVThe world shrank to the silence in my ear.Dante’s voice was gone.No more orders. No more warnings. No more anything.Just a heavy, stifling pause that filled the low-lit study, as if the air itself were holding its breath, waiting.Vargas was still inside me, still panting against my skin, completely oblivious.I didn’t flinch.I didn’t panic.I simply decided: It was time.His hands roamed lazily over my hips, greedy and slow, as if he thought he had all night to ruin me. His smile was lazy, drunk on the illusion that he was in control.Good.I smiled back at him — a soft, sweet thing, all parted lips and breathy sighs — and kissed him again.Slow. Lingering. Poisonous.He moaned into my mouth, grinding up into me, chasing the high he didn’t know would be his last. I shifted, rolling my hips with lazy cruelty, making him think it was pleasure that flushed my skin and not the cold, mechanical calculation humming beneath.As I moved, my fingers slipped down the curve of
_Amelie’s POV_My eyes met Dante’s as I followed Vargas up the staircase. He gave me a curt nod as if to tell me I was doing good. As if to say he approved of what I was doing. And for a moment I wanted to turn around and walk away. It was infuriating to have him do that as if I didn’t know what to do.The study door clicked shut behind us, muffling the sounds of the party into a distant hum.It was just me and Vargas now.Nothing could save me now. But of course, I didn't need saving. I let him lead me deeper inside, into the low, amber-lit room lined with dark bookshelves and heavy leather furniture. Everything smelled like money, cigars, and old blood.His family was quite obviously filthy rich.He poured two glasses of whiskey without asking if I wanted one. He didn’t need to. In his mind, I was already his.Good.Let him think that.His delusions could be the end of him,I accepted the glass, letting my fingers graze his as I took it.I could feel the pulse in his wrist — stea
:Amelie’s POVThe dress was delivered just after sunset.Black velvet. Tight. Simple.But not simple enough to hide what it was really meant for.Just like the dress given to me by the triplets, this one too left little to the imagination.It clung to curves I wanted to be hidden. Left just enough bare skin to whisper promises I never intended to keep. It wasn’t a dress for diplomacy. It wasn’t a dress for war.It was a dress for bait.And tonight. I was the bait.The guard who delivered it said nothing to me. His face was blank as he stepped into my room. He just tossed the garment bag onto my bed like it was garbage and locked the door again with a heavy click.How nice.I made my way to my bed after that, sitting on the hard mattress as I waited.Five minutes later, Dante appeared.No knocking this time. I didn’t expect him to anyways.The door was pulled open, and Dante stepped in like he owned the place.He leaned against the frame, arms crossed lazily over his chest, a crooke
_Amelie’s POV_The first thing I noticed was how cold it was.Not the weather—it was always cold in Santiago’s house, no matter the season. No. This was a different kind of cold. The kind that sinks into your skin, settles into your bones and stays there.They moved me after the gathering.No explanation.No warning.Two guards showed up outside my door after midnight, their faces blank as stone. They said nothing, just waited for me to follow. I thought for a second they were going to kill me. March me into the woods and put a bullet through the back of my skull.It wouldn’t be a surprise to me if that had happened.Maybe that would have been kinder as well. Death by her father’s men. What a good way to die.Instead, they led me to a different wing of the estate—a part of the house I hadn’t seen since I was a little girl sneaking around the halls I wasn’t allowed to be in.The room was small. Windowless. One tiny bed. No closet. No decorations. Just gray walls and the hum of a singl
_Amelie’s POV_I watched as Marco’s lifeless body was carried out of the dinning hall, the carpet stained with red.I felt sorry for the man but I did what had to be done. I wasn’t going to let myself get killed off.After the guests left, Santiago dragged me into his office.He didn’t speak at first.He just stood there, looming.Then—without warning—he struck me.The slap snapped my head to the side, my lip splitting open against my teeth.The sharp crack of it echoed in the silence.I didn’t fall.I didn’t cry.I just stood there, tasting blood, my face burning.His chest rose up and down in silent anger, eyes burning into me.“Do you think you’re clever, Amelie?” Santiago said, his voice dangerously low.I straightened slowly, meeting his eyes.There was no warmth there.Only calculation.Only fury, held back by the thinnest thread of control.“I did what you would have done,” I said quietly.Wrong answer.He slammed his hand onto the desk hard enough to rattle the lamp.“You wil