The night air was thick with tension as Isabella Russo hurried down the dimly lit alley, clutching the small purse against her chest. The click of her heels echoed sharply against the wet pavement. She had just finished a long shift at the diner and only wanted to get home to her tiny apartment and crash.
But fate had other plans.
A sleek black Maserati screeched to a stop at the far end of the alley. Three men in black suits jumped out, their movements sharp, dangerous. Isabella froze. Her breath caught when she saw them drag a fourth man—bloody, beaten—from the car and shove him to his knees.
She should've turned and run. She knew that. But fear pinned her in place as the biggest of the men pulled out a gun.
"Where's the money?" the man barked. His voice was icy, lethal.
The kneeling man sobbed, "I swear, I don't have it—"
A loud crack shattered the night. A gunshot. Isabella's scream got stuck in her throat as the man collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
The killer, tall and broad-shouldered with a commanding aura, turned slightly—just enough for Isabella to see his face under the alley's flickering light. Chiseled jaw, dark piercing eyes, a tattoo peeking from beneath his collar.
Leonardo DeLuca.
Even an ordinary girl like Isabella knew that name. The mafia king. A man you didn't cross if you valued your life.
And she had just seen him commit murder.
"Oh my God…" she whispered before she could stop herself.
Leonardo's head snapped toward her, his gaze locking on like a predator spotting prey. "Grab her."
Two men surged forward. Isabella spun on her heels and ran, heart pounding wildly, lungs burning. She barely made it ten feet before strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the ground.
"No! Let me go!" she screamed, kicking and clawing, but it was useless. The man was solid as steel.
They dragged her to the car. Leonardo stood by the open door, his dark eyes glinting like onyx under the streetlights. He didn't look angry. He looked intrigued.
"Well, well…" His deep, velvety voice sent a shiver down Isabella's spine. "What do we have here? A little mouse spying on lions?"
"I—I didn't see anything!" Isabella stammered, terror clawing at her chest. "I swear, I won't tell anyone!"
Leonardo stepped closer, his towering figure swallowing the space between them. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a touch that was surprisingly gentle for a man who had just taken a life.
"Problem is…" He tilted his head, voice low and dangerous. "…I don't believe in coincidences. And I don't trust witnesses."
"No, please—"
Before she could finish, he motioned to his men. "Bring her."
They shoved Isabella into the car, slamming the door shut beside her. Leonardo slid into the seat opposite her, his presence filling the entire vehicle with raw, suffocating power.
The car roared to life, pulling away from the alley. Isabella's pulse hammered as she stared at the mafia king sitting just a few feet away.
"What's your name?" he asked, voice calm, almost conversational.
"I… Isabella," she whispered.
He leaned back, studying her with those cold, calculating eyes. "Isabella…" He said her name like a test, a promise, a threat all in one. "You've just made the biggest mistake of your life."
---
By the time they reached the sprawling DeLuca estate—a mansion of dark stone and gleaming glass tucked behind high iron gates—Isabella's fear had turned into full-blown panic. She tried to bolt when they opened the car door, but Leonardo caught her wrist in an iron grip.
"Run again," he murmured close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin, "and I'll make sure you can't walk for weeks."
He dragged her inside, through opulent halls with marble floors and gold chandeliers, until they reached a private room. With a flick of his wrist, the guards left, leaving Isabella trapped alone with the mafia king.
Leonardo stood before her, arms crossed, a darkly handsome figure of control and danger.
"You saw something you shouldn't have," he said. "Now I have two choices… kill you or keep you close enough that you can't betray me."
Isabella's breath hitched. "I… I won't say anything. Please, just let me go."
He stepped closer, his presence intoxicatingly overwhelming. One hand lifted to tilt her chin upward, forcing her to meet his unyielding stare.
"You think I built an empire on trust, bella?" His voice was a silken growl. "No. I built it on fear."
Isabella's knees nearly buckled under his gaze, but something inside her refused to cower completely. "If you're going to kill me… just do it," she whispered, surprising herself with her own courage.
Leonardo's lips curved—not a smile, but something darker. Approval.
"Not tonight," he said finally, releasing her chin. "Tonight, you're my guest. Pray you survive long enough to leave."
With that, he walked out, leaving Isabella trembling, alone in the room, with only one terrifying truth echoing in her mind:
She had stepped into the lion's den… and there was no way out.