One of his men "the taller one with the scar running down his neck" let out a low, mocking laugh.
"Wife?" he scoffed. "Mr. Moretto's wife? She's just a weak little girl. She doesn't belong in our world."
The air turned razor-sharp.
Moretto.
So that was his name.
The devil had a name.
He didn't even fully turn toward the man.
"And who," he asked calmly, "are you to question me?"
The laughter died instantly.
"She's mine now," Moretto continued, each word deliberate. Lethal. "And if she is mine, she outranks you."
My breath caught.
"She is your boss. Show her respect."
"But sir—"
The gun appeared in a heartbeat.
Cold steel pressed to the man's temple before anyone could react.
"Finish that sentence," Moretto said softly, "and I'll blow your head off right here."
The click of the hammer echoed in the suffocating silence.
The man swallowed. Said nothing.
Moretto lowered the gun, holstered it smoothly, and turned to me as if we'd just discussed the weather.
"Follow me, wifey."
Wifey?.
The word felt like a brand against my skin.
Outside, the rain had stopped. The ground gleamed under yellow streetlights. Waiting at the curb was a black Rolls-Royce Phantom sleek, polished, predatory. It probably cost more than my entire bloodline would ever see.
He opened the rear door like a gentleman.
I slid inside.
Leather so soft it felt unreal. The scent of wealth and control filled the air.
He joined me. The door shut with finality.
The engine purred to life.
We hadn't gone far when he pulled a black silk blindfold from his pocket.
"Put this on."
I blinked. "Why?"
He leaned closer, his presence filling the space.
"As my wife," he said, voice low and commanding, "you abide by my rules."
My fingers moved before my pride could argue. I tied the blindfold over my eyes.
Darkness swallowed me.
The car glided forward.
Then his voice began.
"Rule one: You don't leave without my permission."
My stomach tightened.
"Rule two: You don't speak to men alone."
My fingers curled into the seat.
"Rule three: You stay where I can see you."
My breathing grew shallow.
"Rule four: You obey."
Silence.
Then the final blow.
"You are mine. And what is mine is protected."
I couldn't take it anymore.
"I can't live like that," I whispered. "I can't stay locked inside some mansion. I don't want this forced marriage. I want out."
A low, dark laugh vibrated through the car.
"You think this is about what you want?"
His fingers brushed my cheek almost gentle before gripping my chin.
"This isn't a negotiation."
The car slowly Stopped.
He untied the blindfold slowly.
Light flooded my vision.
And I froze.
The mansion towered before us "black marble steps, iron gates, fountains carved from stone, armed guards patrolling like silent shadows".
It wasn't a house.
It was a fortress.
A kingdom built on fear.
He stepped out and offered his hand.
I didn't take it.
He took mine anyway.
The massive double doors opened before we reached them.
A woman stood at the top of the stairs.
Tall. Elegant. Draped in black silk that screamed money and menace. Diamonds glittered at her throat. Her gaze swept over me slowly assessing, calculating.
She smiled.
Thin. Sharp. Dangerous.
"Welcome home," she said smoothly. "I've been waiting to meet my new daughter-in-law."
Moretto's hand tightened around mine.
And in that moment, I realized something chilling.
Marrying the devil wasn't the real danger.
It was surviving his kingdom.