CHAPTER 2: The Monster In The Dark

Sophia's POV

Panic immediately seized me and my body reacted before my brain caught up as I kicked hard with both legs, catching whoever it was square in the chest.

I heard a heavy grunt as the person flew backward, slamming into the wall with a thud.

“Who the hell are you?” I hissed, scrambling back on the bed with my heart pounding like it would tear out of my chest.

I could hear stumbling in the darkness, furniture knocking over, and my hand fumbled for the lamp on the nightstand.

The lights flicked on and Luca stood there, breathing hard with his gray eyes blazing with fury. His tux jacket was gone, his shirt half unbuttoned, and his hair messed up. He looked drunk. Really drunk. And really pissed off.

“Oh my God, Luca… I didn’t know it was you!” I rushed out with my hands up. “I’m sorry, I thought...”

The slap came so fast I didn’t see it.

His hand cracked across my face, sending me flying back onto the bed while pain spread across my cheek. I tasted blood.

“You stupid bitch,” he snarled in a slur. “You kicked me? In my own house?”

I touched my lip, staring at the red on my fingers.

“Luca, please. I was scared. I woke up and someone was ripping my dress...”

He laughed drunkenly, but there was no humor in it, just the cold rage of a mafia boss. He grabbed what was left of my gown, tore it down the front in one brutal yank, and the delicate silk shredded like paper.

“Look at you,” he said, his eyes raking over me. “Dressed up like a perfect little bride. But that’s all you are, isn’t it? A good-for-nothing whore from the Moretti family. Sent here to trap me with your pussy and your last name.”

Tears stung my eyes.

“That’s not fair. I didn’t ask for this either.”

“Shut up.” He climbed onto the bed, pinning me down with his weight. God, he was heavy. Six-four of muscle and rage.

I tried to push him off, but he caught my wrists and slammed them above my head.

“Luca, stop! You’re drunk. We can talk tomorrow...”

He backhanded me again, harder this time. So hard my head snapped to the side.

“You don’t tell me what to do. Ever.” His breath reeked of alcohol. “This is my house. You’re my wife, and tonight I’m going to teach you exactly what that means.”

He shoved my torn dress up around my waist.

“Please, Luca… not like this. You’re hurting me,” I begged him. I actually begged.

He didn’t listen. He forced my legs apart with his knee and pushed himself inside me in one rough thrust.

I cried out as pain washed through me. It felt like I was being torn apart, and he wasn't being gentle about it.

“Fuck yeah, you’re tight,” he growled, thrusting harder and deeper with every movement hurting.

I sobbed, twisting underneath him, but he was too strong, and he kept my wrists trapped with one hand while the other squeezed my breast so hard I thought he’d bruise it.

“Stop… please… it hurts,” I cried.

He slapped me again.

“I said shut up, bitch.”

His hips slammed against mine relentlessly while the bed creaked under us.

I could feel him getting rougher, like he wanted to punish me for every dead cousin and every lost fight between our families.

At one point he let go of my wrists just to grab my throat. Not enough to choke me out, but enough to make me gasp for air while he violated me harder.

Tears streamed down my face. My cheek throbbed, and my body burned.

I kept thinking, “This is my husband. This is the man I’m supposed to spend my life with.”

As if he read my thoughts, he leaned down, biting my neck hard enough to leave marks.

“You belong to me now, Sophia. Say it.”

When I didn’t answer fast enough, he slapped my face again.

“Say it!”

“I belong to you,” I whispered through sobs.

“Louder.”

“I belong to you, Luca!”

He groaned, thrusting a few more brutal times before he came, hot and deep inside me.

He collapsed on top of me, heavy and sweaty, breathing hard and within seconds, he was out cold, snoring like he hadn’t just destroyed me.

I lay there for a long time, shaking with his weight crushing me, but I was too scared to move at first. When I finally pushed him off, he rolled onto his back without waking up, and I pulled what was left of my dress around me and curled up on the far side of the bed.

The monster who had just violated me was sleeping peacefully right next to me.

I reached up, pulled a long pin from my hairdo, and stared at it. It was small and sharp, but tiny. I imagined driving it into his neck. Just for a second. Then I pictured him waking up even angrier, drunk and pissed off.

“Too small,” I muttered. “He’d just get mad and do it again.”

I put the pin back in my hair with tears falling freely. Even my murder weapon was useless.

I cried until I had no tears left. I couldn't even sleep, but hours later, I was pulled under by sheer fatigue and stress.

***

The next morning, I woke up alone. Luca was gone with no note, no nothing, just the faint smell of his cologne and the dried blood on my lip. For someone who was drunk last night, he sure woke up early.

My body ached everywhere. Face, throat, and between my legs. I stayed in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, too empty to move.

Eventually, I forced myself up and found one of Luca’s shirts in the closet and put it on. It smelled like him, and I hated that.

The house was quiet. Way too quiet as I started walking around, exploring my fancy new prison.

I opened door after door, finding a gym, an office, and a library that actually looked nice. Then I reached a door at the end of a long hallway. It was slightly ajar, so I pushed it open, but...

I froze immediately with a terrified scream stuck in my throat…!