As we left the church, the difference between Marco and me was crystal clear. I felt like a pawn in some twisted game, while Marco had that smug look, like he'd just won a prize. The reception hall was huge and filled with people celebrating a marriage that felt more like a hostile takeover to me.Marco's hand stayed glued to my waist, his grip firm and unyielding. Every touch was a reminder that I was now his, whether I liked it or not. I walked beside him, my posture stiff, my face a mask of cold indifference. Guests swarmed around us, congratulating us on our union.“Congratulations, Marco. You’ve outdone yourself with this one,” one man said, clapping Marco on the back. “Thank you, Lorenzo,” Marco replied smoothly, his charm never faltering. “We’re very happy.”I forced a tight smile, nodding politely. My eyes scanned the room, looking for an escape, but there was none. Marco's grip tightened slightly, as if sensing my thoughts.“Sarah, you look stunning,” a woman gushed, her eye
I woke up the next morning, still feeling the weight of last night’s encounter with Marco. I dressed quickly, determined to face him with as much composure as I could muster. When Marco finally stirred, he looked disoriented. Good, I thought. At least he wouldn’t have the upper hand completely. “How did I get here?” he asked, his voice groggy. I crossed my arms and gave him a cold stare. “You came into my room reeking of alcohol and tried to force yourself on me,” I replied flatly. Marco smirked, his eyes narrowing as he assessed me. “Did it work?” I felt a surge of anger. “The least you could do is show some gratitude for not leaving you on the floor all night,” I snapped. He chuckled darkly. “I owe you no gratitude. You seem to forget that you’re my wife. My possession.” The words hit me like a slap. “I am not your possession, Marco,” I retorted. “You can’t just treat me like a thing you own.” He moved closer, the space between us charged with tension. “You think you ha
MARCOI sat alone in the dimly lit corner of the club, the thumping bass running through my body. The girl had left a few minutes ago, and I had time to think. My mind raced with conflicting thoughts. She had been a distraction, something to calmly take my mind off things. But it wasn’t enough. I couldn't get into it.I took a sip of my drink, feeling the burn as it slid down my throat. Since when have I become this sensitive? The life I lead was dangerous, and any moment of weakness could be my downfall. I couldn’t afford distractions, especially ones that made me question my decisions.I glanced around the club, watching people lose themselves in the music, the alcohol, the fleeting moments of pleasure. Was I any different? No. I couldn’t let myself be.I stood up, my mind firming with resolve. It was time to go. I had indulged enough nonsense for one night. I needed to get back to reality, back to the life I had built with blood and sweat.As I made my way through the line of peopl
SARAHWalking to Marco’s study, my mind kept drifting back to Marcel’s phone call. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Marcel’s concern and kindness were like a distant dream compared to the harsh reality I lived in. What was I thinking, even considering talking to him again? Marco had me under constant surveillance, and any hint of disobedience could spell disaster.I wondered if Marco knew about the call. Had he overheard? Was that why he summoned me? My heart pounded with each step, anxiety gnawing at me. I barely noticed my surroundings until I found myself standing in front of Marco’s office door. With a deep breath, I steeled myself and walked in.Marco was sitting in his chair, swinging it slightly as he twirled a fancy pen in his fingers. He ignored my presence at first, his gaze fixed on the pen. His nonchalance made my stomach churn with unease. I scoffed, trying to mask my fear. “You called for me?” I said, my voice more defiant than I felt.Marco smirked, finally looking
SARAHIt’s been two days since Marco set out his rules for me, and they’ve made me utterly miserable. I couldn’t forget the way he forced me into agreeing to his terms, the satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he watched me crumble, helpless and with no choice but to sign it.I hated him with every fiber of my being. Who does he think he is? I thought, my rage steaming beneath the surface. Every time I pictured his smug face, my blood boiled. The audacity of that man! To think he could control every aspect of my life like I was his puppet. I paced around my room, the walls closing in on me, suffocating me with the weight of his oppressive rules.Curfews, restricted areas, dress codes, behavioral expectations—every detail annoyingly planned to strip away my freedom. I sneered at the silliness of it all, mocking the rules in my mind. Morning curfews? Like I was a child who needed to be told when to wake up. Restricted areas? Did he think I would stumble upon some dark secret that would
SARAHI stood there, stunned by the sight of the baby clothes and toys scattered around the room. It was shocking. Why would Marco have a room like this? The thought of him being connected to something so innocent and tender didn’t make any sense. My curiosity, mixed with a growing sense of fear, urged me to explore further.I tiptoed further into the room, my heart pounding. Suddenly, I stepped on a toy. It squeaked loudly, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I quickly realized it was just a toy and exhaled in relief. But the noise had unnerved me, and my fear increased.Despite my growing anxiety, I approached a shelf that caught my eye. Among the dusty books and knick-knacks, there was a diary. The name “Noe-” was scribbled at the bottom. My hands trembled as I reached for it, eager to uncover whatever secrets it held. I started to flip it open.Just then, a voice cut through the silence, freezing me in my tracks. “What are you doing here?” Marco’s voice was cold and menacing, and
SARAHI woke up from a nap, my head pounding and my body aching. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep. The room was dark, and it took me a few moments to reorient myself. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was already evening. The realization hit me hard; it had been a full day since Marco had locked me up in that small, suffocating room.I had spent most of the day holed up in my room, refusing to talk to anyone, including the maids. The memory of Marco’s cruel smirk as he threw me into the basement replayed in my mind, fueling my hatred for him and his absurd rules.Who does he think he is? I thought bitterly. Treating me like some kind of possession, dictating every aspect of my life. I despised the way he seemed to enjoy punishing me, the satisfaction he got from my suffering. It made my skin crawl.I stared at the ceiling, trying to push the memories away, but they kept flooding back. The feeling of being trapped, of having no control over my own life, was overwhelming. I h
SARAHI stared at the dress Marco had laid out for me. It was a slinky, revealing dress that screamed for attention. The shimmering fabric, cut low in the front and high on the thigh, made my skin crawl. I hated it. I hated everything it represented. It was just another way for Marco to control me, to humiliate me. My fists clenched at my sides as I tried to summon the strength to put it on.“It’s just for one night,” I muttered to myself, the words barely more than a whisper in the silent room. “You can do this.”I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. Each inhale felt like I was dragging a boulder up a hill. My fingers trembled as I unzipped the dress, the sound sharp in the quiet. With a sense of defeat, I stripped off my clothes and slipped into the dress. The fabric clung to me like a second skin, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. I looked at myself in the mirror, hating what I saw. My reflection seemed to mock me, the dress transforming me into something I didn’t
MARCOThe sound of gunfire outside was getting closer, louder. Each shot echoed like a drumbeat of inevitability, and I could see the panic setting in on Danzo’s face. His eyes darted around the room as though searching for an escape that wasn’t there.“You hear that, Danzo?” I said, leaning back in my chair. My wrists were still tied, but my voice was steady. “That’s the sound of your grand plan crumbling. Everything you set up here? It’s falling apart. And you’re dying here today.”Danzo’s head snapped toward me, his jaw tightening. For a second, he looked like he was going to lunge at me, but he held back. Instead, he pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt, his fingers gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.“Status!” he barked into the device, pacing in tight circles like a cornered animal. “What’s going on out there?”There was a pause on the other end, filled with static and the faint sound of chaos—shouting, gunfire, something heavy crashing to the ground. Finally, a vo
MARCO The ropes around my wrists burned as I strained against them, my jaw tight enough to crack a tooth. Danzo paced back and forth like a predator toying with its prey, his smirk wide and arrogant. His voice dripped with satisfaction, every word landing like a calculated blow. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he said, pausing to glance at me. “All this… it’s personal, Marco. You made it personal the moment you threw me to the wolves.” I stared him down, refusing to let the venom in his words show any effect. “You think I’m afraid of you?” “Oh, I don’t need you to be afraid. Not yet, anyway,” he said, laughing softly. “But you should be. You always underestimated me, Marco. Always thought I’d stay in your shadow, didn’t you?” I said nothing, focusing instead on Sarah, who sat just a few feet away, bound and trembling. Her eyes met mine, and the fear in them sliced through me like a blade. Danzo followed my gaze and chuckled darkly. “Ah, yes. The princess. Don’t worry, Ma
MARCOThe goons gathered my weapons with smug satisfaction, tossing them onto the floor like trophies. My knife. My Glock. The backup pistol. Each piece felt like a part of me being stripped away. I clenched my jaw as the masked man stooped to pick up my gun. He held it up to the dim light, turning it over in his hand like he’d just found buried treasure.“Nice piece,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he inspected the setup. “Who’s your plug, Marco? This stuff’s top-tier. Custom job? Or do you just know the right people?”I didn’t respond, glaring at him in silence. My hands itched to grab it back, to feel the weight of it in my palm, but my wrists were bound tightly behind my back.“Not much of a talker, are you?” he continued, pacing slowly in front of me. He raised the gun and mimed aiming it, letting out a low whistle. “Damn. This feels good. Might keep it. Hope you don’t mind.”I didn’t take the bait. Instead, I focused on what they hadn’t found—the tiny chip in my boo
MARCOThe silence inside the narrow hallway was almost unbearable. The dim, flickering light above me buzzed faintly, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. My boots clicked softly on the metal floor as I moved further in, my breaths shallow and controlled. Every step felt heavier than the last, each one carrying me deeper into uncertainty.“Petrov,” I whispered, pressing a finger to the mic in my ear. “Petrov, can you hear me?”Nothing. Just static.I paused, my heart thudding harder as the realization hit me. The connection was dead. Whether it was deliberate or accidental, I was on my own now.“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath, scanning the hallway for any sign of movement. My hand instinctively drifted toward the gun hidden beneath my jacket. I didn’t pull it out yet, but just feeling its presence steadied me a little. Whatever was waiting for me here, I wasn’t about to face it unarmed.The hallway stretched further ahead, leading to an open door on the left. The sh
MARCOThe night air clung to me like a heavy cloak, thick with tension and the metallic scent of salt from the nearby docks. As I stepped out of the car, the first thing I did was adjust the mic in my ear. Petrov’s faint voice buzzed briefly in the connection, a reminder that I wasn’t entirely alone in this. But still, the silence surrounding me felt absolute, broken only by the distant hum of machinery and the soft crunch of gravel under my boots.My hand hovered close to my side, grazing the cold steel of the gun tucked under my jacket. I didn’t draw it, not yet, but the feel of it was a small comfort. The shipyard was a maze of shadows and towering containers, each one a potential hiding place. My eyes darted left, then right, sweeping for movement. Nothing. Not yet.“Marco, can you hear me?” Petrov’s voice crackled in my ear, low but clear.I pressed the mic lightly. “Loud and clear.”“Good,” he replied. “We’ve got eyes on the perimeter. Cameras are feeding us everything in real t
MARCOThe room was silent except for the smooth metallic sound of zippers being undone as Dimitri revealed his collection. The bag laid open on the table like a treasure chest—polished steel and black carbon shining under the dim light. Dimitri, ever the perfectionist, straightened the weapons out with precision, each gun lined up like soldiers ready for inspection.“Don Marco,” Dimitri began, his voice low and steady, “everything here is the best of the best. Tuned to your specifications. You know me—I don’t do sloppy.”I stepped forward, running my hand along the cold steel of a semi-automatic. It felt good in my hand, the weight just right, balanced and deadly. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” I said, cocking the gun to feel its mechanism. Smooth. No drag.Dimitri’s lips quirked into the faintest smile. “Try it out. The recoil on that one is practically non-existent. It’s custom-built for speed and precision. The kind of weapon that doesn’t just take a man down—it sends a message.”I r
MARCOI set the phone down slowly, feeling its cold weight in my hand as the call ended. The finality of it pressed down on me like a thick fog—heavy, unnerving. He had confirmed my resignation. He’d told me where to pick Sarah up. But none of it felt right, like waking up from a bad dream only to realize you’re still stuck in it. The silence in the room was too still, too loud, broken only by the steady, muted breaths of Tony and Petrov beside me. They waited, both of them watching me closely, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, to clear the swirl of unease that kept nagging at the back of my mind.Tony was the first to break the silence, leaning back in his chair with that usual smirk—half-reassuring, half-infuriating. “See? I told you this would happen.” He stretched his arms out, almost too casual, too satisfied. “First things first—Sarah is safe, Marco. She’s alive, which is a damn good factor in all this.” He paused, raising a brow. “Now? Now it’s our turn. Time to hit th
SARAHI was too numb to resist as Danzo’s men closed in around me, each rough hand on my arm or shoulder pushing me forward. The small spark of defiance I’d clung to, the one that had gotten me this far, was all but extinguished now, buried under the weight of failure. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Danzo. But I could feel his gaze, that amused, twisted satisfaction radiating off him.Once they brought me back to the same sterile room and practically threw me onto the soft bed, I let out a strangled, defeated breath. The warmth of the sheets felt mocking now, a reminder of my own foolish hope just minutes ago.One of Danzo’s men shoved my shoulders down, forcing me back into the bed. His grip was merciless, his eyes indifferent as he strapped me down with the restraints I’d worked so hard to free myself from before. I bit down hard on my lip, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood. It grounded me, reminded me I was still alive, for whatever that was worth.Danzo strolled in casu
SARAHI woke up with a sharp jolt, my whole body aching. The first thing I noticed was the pain, but it wasn’t the same kind I was used to—the sharp, throbbing pain of captivity. No, this was different. It was dull, like a thud in the back of my skull that wouldn’t leave, and everything else felt sore in a way I didn’t recognize. I tried to open my eyes, but the light burned through my lids, forcing them back closed. I groaned, my hand instinctively going to my head, hoping the pressure would ease, but as my fingers grazed my scalp, something felt wrong.I froze. Something was on my wrist. Something cold. I lifted my hand slowly and felt something thick and soft, like a bandage, but it wasn’t a bandage. It felt more… like medical tape. I opened my eyes fully, blinking to adjust to the light. What I saw made my stomach drop.I was in a bed, but not the hard, cold floor I was used to. I was lying down, my body wrapped in soft, clean sheets, with an IV drip stuck in my arm, attached to a