Chapter 03: A Deal with the Mafia Don

We didn’t waste any time. Kael led me out the back door, his movements smooth and controlled, exuding an air of lethal confidence. A black SUV, sleek and imposing, was already waiting. The driver—an intimidating man with a face carved from stone—barely acknowledged us as he slid behind the wheel.

The moment we got inside, the doors locked with a heavy click. The engine purred to life, a low growl that vibrated through the cabin, promising speed and raw power. I swallowed hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears.

The drive was short, nothing more than a blur of darkened streets and flickering streetlights. Silence filled the car, thick and suffocating, until we pulled up to a massive structure that loomed against the night sky. It wasn’t a house—it was a fortress.

Tall gates, reinforced walls, and armed men patrolling the perimeter. The very air surrounding the place was heavy with unspoken threats. My stomach twisted. This was his world. And now, somehow, I was stepping into it.

Kael didn’t hesitate. He opened the door and stepped out, exuding the kind of authority that demanded immediate obedience. The moment I followed, I felt the weight of a dozen eyes on me. The guards—hard-faced men who looked like they’d seen things no one should—stood like statues, their gazes sharp, unreadable.

We were led inside, through grand arched doorways and past towering chandeliers dripping with crystal. But despite the luxury, there was something hollow about it, something cold and lifeless. The light filtering through the tall windows was dim, stretching long shadows across the polished marble floors.

The villa was beautiful—but it was also a prison.

Not just because of the walls. But because of the way the air felt wrong, thick with the weight of something terrible about to happen.

Kael walked ahead, purposeful, without hesitation. Then, he pointed towards a door at the end of the hall.

"She’s in there." His voice was low, almost casual. But there was an edge to it—sharp, dangerous.

The door swung open.

My breath caught in my throat.

Arabella sat up in bed, her silk robe slipping off one shoulder. Her hair was tousled, her skin flushed, and the moment her eyes landed on Kael, they widened in raw terror.

Beside her, a man lay sprawled across the bed, shirtless, his breathing still heavy from whatever they had been doing just moments ago.

Kael didn’t speak.

He moved.

In a single, fluid motion, he reached for a gun—his movements swift, controlled, deadly.

The metallic glint of the weapon caught the dim light as he raised it, his grip firm, his posture unwavering. There was no hesitation.

No warning.

He pulled the trigger.

The gunshot exploded through the room.

The man barely had time to react. His head snapped back, a choked sound escaping his lips before he crumpled onto the sheets. A crimson stain spread across his chest, blooming like a deadly flower.

But Kael wasn’t done.

The gun roared again. And again. Three, four, five times.

Each shot found its mark, tearing through flesh and bone with merciless precision. The man convulsed, gasping, writhing in agony, but Kael never aimed to kill outright.

No.

He wanted him alive.

Alive to feel every ounce of pain.

Terror gripped my throat like a vice. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

Then Kael turned.

The gun now aimed at Arabella.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up.

"No!" I lunged forward, throwing myself between them. My hands shot out, pressing against Kael’s chest, a weak attempt to stop him.

His eyes—dark, void of any remorse—locked onto mine.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then, slowly, dangerously, he lowered the gun. A smirk played at his lips, but there was no warmth in it.

"Hurry up," he murmured, voice laced with amusement. "I’ll wait outside."

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

The room was deathly silent.

Except for Arabella’s sobs.

She collapsed onto the floor, her body shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Tears streaked her face as she stared at the man bleeding out beside her.

"He’s a monster," she choked out. "He’s… he’s a Mafia boss. That’s why I didn’t want to marry him! I was terrified!"

The world tilted.

My stomach twisted violently as nausea clawed up my throat.

Kael Visconti.

The man who had just executed someone in cold blood. The man who had promised to help me escape Austin. The man I had run to for protection.

He wasn’t my savior.

He was something far, far worse.

A devil in disguise.

I had traded one death sentence for another.

My breath came in short, panicked bursts. I wanted to run, to escape, to get the hell out of here—but my legs were lead, frozen beneath me.

"You traitor!" Arabella hissed suddenly, her tear-streaked face twisting in fury. "You told him where I was!"

Her words barely registered.

I needed to leave. Now.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I turned toward the door, forcing my numb legs to move. Each step felt agonizing, as if wading through quicksand.

The hallway stretched before me, impossibly long.

And at the end of it—Kael.

He stood waiting, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

His gaze met mine.

He knew.

He knew I was terrified.

And he enjoyed it.

"We should leave," he said smoothly, like he hadn’t just almost murdered my cousin. Like this was just another ordinary night for him.

Rage—hot, blinding—burned through my fear.

"You… you’re a monster." The words trembled out of me.

Kael tilted his head, amused. Then, after a beat, he chuckled.

"Maybe," he murmured. "But I’m your monster."

The sheer arrogance of his words snapped something inside me.

I didn’t think.

I acted.

My palm cracked against his face, the sound sharp, deafening in the heavy silence.

The guards stiffened. Hands flew to weapons. The tension suffocated the air.

But Kael…

Kael barely reacted.

He touched his cheek, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his lips curved.

"Hold it." His voice was low, smooth as velvet—but it carried a silent threat. "She’s my fiancée. Don’t even think about touching her."

I sucked in a sharp breath.

What?

His men hesitated. Then, one by one, they obeyed.

My hands clenched into fists. My heart slammed against my ribs, still uncertain if this was some twisted game or a claim far worse than I imagined.

But as the guards backed off, the tension in the air shifted.

A fragile, flickering hope sparked in the darkness.

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough.

For now.