Alessandro's POV
Blood dripped from his mouth, slow and thick, as he whimpered—tied to the chair with a fearful expression embedded on his face like the coward he was. Pathetic. His screams sounded like music to my ears. What a p***y. His eyes swollen barley opening, and lips split from where I had last struck him. His name didn't matter. He was a rat. A Thief, A liar. And in my world. That earned you one thing—Death.
"You thought you could run," I murmured, circling him with slow, deliberate steps."with my money?"
No answer. Now, that pissed me off.
"Lucca," I called calmly, never looking away from the broken man. " Bring me my tools."
The voices in my head were screaming. Take his guts out. Rip him open and paint the walls red.
But I still needed answers.
Lucca, ever composed handed over the steel tray. My fingers twitched with anticipation, as I picked up the plier.
I took a seat close to him. "I will ask you one more time, where is my money," still silence.
I took one of his finger and yanked nails off clean. Blood gushed, doing the same to all his fingers. He screams never ending, filled the warehouse, echoing like a hymn. I grinned. Dropping the plier and picked up a blade.
I slid it across his cheek—not deep, just enough to remind him of his situation.
"You know what I hate more than rats," I whispered crouching so we where eye to eye. "cowards who beg."
"I—I didn't mean to"
Lucca, scoffed behind me . "They never do."
I twisted the blade between my fingers, eyes flat, watching blood pool beneath his chin. " But you did. And for that.."
A sharp jab to his throat, blood spattered over my hands, "ugh", I grimaced in disgust.
I stood, wiping my hands with silk cloth. Annoyance simmering under my skin. The voices in my head quieted, barely. "Pulire Questo, and I want a trace of where that money went and to who's account."
Lucca nodded, stepping over the pool of blood like it meant nothing. Because to us—it didn't.
"There's an auction tonight," he said "Underground. Exclusive. They're expecting you."
I arched a brow. "And you expect me to care?"
"Tradition. Every boss makes an appearance once a quarter. Keeps alliance clean. Keeps the vultures guessing."
I snorted." I don't follow tradition, I'm not my father."
Lucca lips twitched, " They're featuring new girls. The auctioneer asked if you'd like to.... relieve some tension. Said he could arrange something special."
I shot him a look. Ice-cold. "I don't f**k what's caged."
"You don't f**k at all," he muttered. Might be time you found a queen. A little balance.
Balance.
I scoffed, my chest tightened. " I don't need a queen to rule. Women are weakness. vulnerability."
But he wasn't wrong.
he stirred something in me I kept hidden,the darker half. The one that whispered.
Find her. Take her. Own her.
I clenched my fist. Lucca titled his head. " Are we going or not."
I didn't answer.I just walked out.
Arriving at the place. The auction house was buried beneath the skeletons of an abandoned opera theater. The scent of dust, sweat, and money lingered in the air. Every entrance was guarded. But when I walked through the grand hallway—silence fell.
power. That what it looked like. Fear in a tailored Armani suit and blood stained knuckles.
I descended the staircase slowly, each step echoing through the hall. Heads turned, drinks paused mid air trembling the hands that's held them.
The devil has arrived.
I took my seat at the highest podium, overlooking the floor below. Crimson velvet bled across the walls. Beneath me, buyers sat like vultures with lust in their eyes.
The first girl was dragged out. Sobbing.
The next? Defiant. But already broken.
I Leaned my head back. bored.
None of them interested me.
Until—
The lights dimmed.
The room hushed.
The auctioneers voice slithered through the speaker. "Ah, gentlemen we save the best for the last."
I didn't look down.
"Soft as silk. Delicate as a rose. Untouched by any man."
Still uninterested. As I reached for my phone.
"She's a rare. Exotic. Pure. Yet there's fire beneath her calm."
I paused.
The curtains parted.
And then—I saw her.
White dress. White veil, like a ghost.
No—an angel.
She didn't stumble. She didn't bow.
She stood tall, poised, regal.
My pulse stilled. Then raced.
The voice inside me hissed again.
There. She's the one.Take her, she's yours, our Queen.
"No", I told myself. "You need don't need anyone."
But I couldn't look away, my gaze locked on her.
Her veil flowed like silk over her shoulders. Her hips curved just enough to tempt sin. Her legs—I could already imagine them wrapping around me while I take her.
For the first time in years, I felt it. Heat, a low sharp hunger. I was spotting a hard on.
The bidding began.
"Five hundred thousand."
"Seven hundred."
"One million."
I didn't raise my hand.
I never bid.
But then—
"Five million," I said.
The words slice through the air like a bullet.
Silence.
All eyes turned. The room froze.
The auctioneer stuttered. "S-signore..are you"
"I don't repeat myself" I said, coldly.
The tension thickened. whispers rippled. I stood descending the stairs, slow and controlled. I Passed through my most formidable rival, Dante Giovanni the Russian don who never knew when to shut his mouth. He leaned in just enough, voice coated in smug sarcasm, " I thought you don't like your women caged", he said low enough for no one else to hear but loud enough to test me.
I didn't look at him. Didn't give him the satisfaction of a glance or twitch, I just kept walking towards what's mine. Behind me I felt his fury rise.
Each step I took echoed like a war drum. Take her, Mine.
She didn't moved. But I saw the way her shoulders tensed. Brave little thing. I stepped closed
Raising my hand, my fingers brushing her chin, and tilted it up.
She flinched—but held my gaze.
Not broken—yet.
I lifted the veil, Emerald eyes with golden flecks met mine. Bright. Untamed. They didn't tremble—they dared to look straight through the devil, like Wildfire waiting to be burned.
Her red auburn hair was a Rich, and flamed like a spitfire. A defiant contrast to her angelic dress. And her lips—f**k. I could ruin her. I would ruin her. Mine.
My thumb grazed her jaw. Her breath hitched
But her chin lifted.
"I don't fear men."she said, voice steady.
I smiled, slow and dark." I know."
My fingers tightened around her jaw.
"But I'm not any man."
I leaned in, taking a whiff. Her scent hit me—warm vanilla, firewood and roses. It was intoxicating.
My breath ghosting over her ear.
"Afraid little one."
"No," she whispered. But I knew she was lying. And I liked it.
Her body was repulsive, coiled like she was ready to fight, her gaze had no submission. Only rage. Fear. Resistance. Perfect.
She's not broken yet. But she will be—by me.
Luca stepped beside me, saying nothing, I didn't need to look to know he was smirking.
She recognized him.
Then—me
The realization hit her like lightning, her pupils, dilated, her breath caught.
For a second—I saw it
Fear, despair, and something darker. Need.
I stepped back. Turned to auctioneer, " Deliver her to my estate."
The man nodded quickly, Lucca joined me as we walked off stage, " five million," he said,low. "What made her worth that?"
I didn't answer. Because I didn't know. Or maybe—I did.
She looked like salvation, to our condemned soul. And I was the devil who didn't believe in it. But that voice in me whispered louder now.
She's ours. You felt it. She's the one. The Queen. The match.