The morning light barely touched the room. Thin strips of sunlight leaked through the half-drawn curtains, pale and hesitant, as if even the day itself didn't dare enter this house. I opened my eyes slowly, my head heavy, thoughts swirling like a storm I couldn't outrun.
The smell hit me first—faint traces of cigarettes and leather lingering in the air. Vince's world. His presence. It was everywhere, even when he wasn't in the room.
My stomach sank. This wasn't my life. I hadn't chosen this. My father's debts had dragged me here, tied me to the DeLucas like a pawn stuck on a chessboard with no way to move.
I sat up, the cold air brushing against my skin. My feet met the hardwood floor with a dull ache. Another day, I thought bitterly. Another day as someone else's possession.
But today Vince had sent me on an errand—groceries, as though I were some housewife in a gilded cage. It was supposed to be simple, yet even with him absent, I could feel the weight of his invisible chains. He had his goons all around.
I pulled on my coat, buttoning it with sharp, mechanical movements. If I let myself think too long, I might break. And I refused to break.
Outside, the Chicago air slapped me awake, cold and biting. The streets buzzed with life—people rushing, talking, laughing. Free. My chest ached watching them, their unburdened steps a reminder of everything I'd lost. I walked with my head high, but inside, all I wanted was to crumble.
Halfway to the corner store, a voice cut through the noise.
"Hey. You there."
I froze. The tone was wrong—rough, sharp, carrying the kind of menace I'd come to recognize in Vince's world.
A man stepped out of the shadows of a brick alley. Tattoos crawled up his neck, disappearing beneath a leather collar. His jacket stretched over muscles that looked like they'd been built for violence. My heartbeat quickened, but I forced my face still.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice steady, even as my stomach twisted.
He smirked, stepping closer. His breath carried the sting of whiskey, sharp and sour. "I know who you are, sweetheart. Vince DeLuca's new pet. Thought you'd be easy to scare."
Rage flickered, hotter than the fear. My chin lifted. "You don't know anything about me."
His grin widened. "We'll see about that." His hand shot out, gripping my arm.
Every nerve in my body screamed, but instinct rose faster. I yanked back, my voice snapping like a whip: "Don't touch me."
For a heartbeat, surprise crossed his face. He hadn't expected a fight, only fear. But then his grin turned meaner, his eyes colder.
"I'll make sure Vince hears about that fire," he muttered, stepping back. "But watch yourself, girl. You don't want to piss off the wrong people."
And just like that, he melted into the street, leaving me standing with my heart racing so hard it hurt.
I didn't breathe until I reached the store, and even then, my chest felt tight. Rage burned hotter with every step back to the mansion. Rage at the thug. Rage at my father. Rage at Vince, most of all.
He had thrown me into this pit of vipers and expected me to survive. No—expected me to obey.
By the time I pushed open the heavy doors of the DeLuca mansion, my fury was a storm. My boots clicked hard against the marble, echoing through the empty halls as if announcing my defiance.
I found him in his study, as I always did. His back was to me, broad and sharp beneath his dark suit, but his presence filled the room like smoke—thick, suffocating, inescapable.
I didn't wait for him to turn. "One of your goons cornered me in the street," I spat, my voice trembling with anger. "He threatened me. Told me I was your possession."
Vince turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine. Cold. Calculating. The faintest spark of curiosity glinted there, but it was drowned out by something darker.
"What did he say?" His voice was low, too controlled.
My fists clenched at my sides. "That I belong to you."
For a moment, silence stretched taut between us. Then his lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though it carried no warmth. Only certainty.
"And?" he asked, stepping closer.
"And I'm not yours," I said, forcing the words out even though my throat burned. "I don't belong to anyone."
He stopped inches from me. His gaze pinned me in place, unrelenting, dangerous. "You think you can defy me, Isabella? You think you can stand against me?"
"Yes," I hissed. My knees trembled, but my eyes never left his.
He studied me for a long, unbearable moment. Then his voice shifted, quieter but sharper, cutting straight through me.
"I know about your father's debts."
The air seemed to vanish from the room. My body went still.
He stepped closer, until his breath ghosted against my skin. "Your father owed me more than he could ever pay. He tried to run. Your mother tried to hide you. But debts always come due."
I shook my head, the denial instinctive. "No…"
"Yes." His hand lifted, fingers brushing down my arm, deliberate, possessive. "You were promised to me. A repayment. A bride. You ran from it once. But here you are. Back where you were always meant to be."
The floor tilted beneath me. My breath came sharp and shallow. Bride. The word echoed in my skull until it became unbearable.
"You," I whispered, barely able to form the word. "It was always you."
Vince's gaze softened for only a fraction of a second before turning to steel again. He cupped my chin, tilting my face upward, his touch firm, unyielding. "You belong to me, Isabella. You always have. Don't forget it."
His thumb brushed my lip—gentle, almost tender, a cruel contrast to the violence in his words. My body shivered with confusion I couldn't stand to admit.
Before I could tear myself away, the study door slammed open.
Rafael stood there, fury carved into every line of his face. His eyes burned, not at me, but at Vince.
"You're making a mistake," Rafael said, voice low, dangerous.
Vince's smile turned feral. "Fair warning, Rafael. She's mine. My wife. Next time you interfere, I'll put a bullet in your skull."
The air crackled between them, sharp and electric. My lungs struggled to draw breath, caught in the web of their war.
I thought I had escaped hell when I left my father's house.
But I had only traded it for something worse.
I had walked straight into the arms of the devil himself.
And there was no way out.