Bought In Full

ELARA'S POV

The night air hit my face as I stepped out of the hospital's back exit. I pulled my jacket tighter around myself and checked my phone again.

Eight fifteen. I still had forty-five minutes before I needed to be at that warehouse.

My stomach twisted with fear every time I thought about it. 

I started walking toward the staff parking lot, my keys already in my hand. My car was old and barely ran half the time, but tonight I needed it. 

The parking lot was nearly empty at this hour. Just a few scattered vehicles belonging to the night shift staff. Mine was parked in the far corner under a flickering light that barely worked.

I should have requested a closer spot. Should have thought about safety. But I'd been too distracted lately, too consumed with worry about Matteo to think about basic things like where I parked my car.

My footsteps echoed against the pavement. Each step felt heavier than the last. 

I was halfway to my car when I heard it. The sound of an engine close by.

A black van pulled up beside me before I could react. The side door slid open with a harsh metallic screech.

I didn't even have time to scream.

Hands grabbed me. Strong, rough hands. They yanked me off my feet and dragged me into the van so fast the world blurred.

"Let me go!" I tried to fight. Tried to kick. Tried to do anything. 

"Help! Someone help me!"

But a hand clamped over my mouth, cutting off my screams. Another set of hands pinned my arms behind my back.

The van door slammed shut. The engine roared. We were moving before I could even process what was happening.

"Stop struggling." A male voice. Deep and calm.

"You'll only hurt yourself."

I bit down on the hand covering my mouth.

The man cursed and pulled his hand back. 

"Feisty one."

"Let me go!" I tried again, my voice shaking. 

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Something pricked my neck. Sharp, it was a needle.

"No. No, wait—"

But my words were already slurring. 

My vision blurred at the edges. The strength drained from my limbs like water.

"Just a sedative," the man's voice said from somewhere far away. 

"You'll wake up soon. Try to relax."

Relax. The word would have been funny if I wasn't so terrified.

The darkness pulled me under before I could protest anymore.

After a long time I woke up slowly. My head felt heavy, fuzzy. Like I'd been asleep for days instead of hours.

My arms hurt. I tried to move them and realized they were tied behind me.

Panic shot through the fog in my brain. I forced my eyes open.

I was in a chair. My arms were bound behind the backrest. My ankles were tied to the chair legs.

The room around me was massive.

Everything in the room screamed wealth. Dark furniture. Marble floors. Art on the walls that probably cost more than I'd make in a lifetime.

Where was I? Who brought me here?

Then I saw him.

Matteo.

He was on the floor about ten feet in front of me. Just lying there. His face was worse than in the picture. Bruised. Swollen. Blood dried on his split lip and under his nose.

"Matteo!" His name ripped from my throat. 

"Matteo, wake up!"

He didn't move. Didn't respond. Was he even breathing?

"He's alive."

The voice came from behind me. Deep male voice. The kind of voice that expected to be obeyed.

The owner of the voice stepped into view.

I'd never seen him before. Tall, broad shoulders. Dark hair. Dark eyes that looked at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

He was handsome in a cold, dangerous way. The kind of handsome that belonged on magazine covers or movie screens. But there was something else beneath the perfect exterior. Something that made every instinct in my body scream danger.

"Who are you?" I demanded, trying to sound braver than I felt. 

"What do you want?"

He didn't answer right away. Just studied me like I was something interesting he'd found. His gaze traveled from my face down to my tied hands and back up again.

"My name is Dante Moretti." He said it like I should recognize it. Like it should mean something.

It didn't. Or at least, I didn't think it did. The name tickled something in the back of my mind but I couldn't place it.

"I don't know who that is," I said.

"No. You wouldn't." He moved to lean against the desk behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"But your brother does. Don't you, Matteo?"

Matteo groaned. A small sound. But it meant he was alive. Conscious at least.

Relief flooded through me.

"What did you do to him?" I looked back at Dante, anger replacing some of the fear.

"He needs a hospital. He needs—"

"He needs to learn that actions have consequences." Dante's voice didn't change. Still calm. Still controlled. 

"He stole from me, Miss Santos. Something very valuable. And now he's going to pay for that mistake."

Stole from him?, what could he possibly have stolen?

"I'll pay you back," I said quickly. "Whatever he took, whatever it's worth, I'll find a way to pay you back. Just let him go. Please."

"You can't pay me back." Dante pushed off the desk and moved closer. 

"What your brother stole isn't about money. It's about information. Sensitive information that could destroy everything I've built. And he sold it. Do you understand what that means?"

I didn't. Not really. But I nodded anyway because maybe if I agreed, if I seemed cooperative, he'd show mercy.

"Where are the files?" Dante asked, his eyes moving to Matteo. 

"Who did you sell them to?"

"I don't know." Matteo's voice was rough. He sounded broken.

"I swear, I don't know. It was all done online. Anonymous buyer. I never met them."

"Then you're useless to me."

Dante pulled something from inside his jacket.  He pointed it at Matteo's head with the casual ease of someone who'd done it a thousand times before.

"No!" I screamed. 

"No, please! Don't kill him! He's telling the truth! He doesn't know anything!"

"Then what use is he?" Dante's finger moved to the trigger. 

"Dead men tell no tales. But they also don't steal from me again."

"Please!" Tears poured down my face. "Please, I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just don't kill him. He's all I have left. He's my only family. Please."

Dante paused. His eyes shifted from Matteo to me. Something changed in his expression. Not softer. Just... different. Like he was considering something.

"Anything?" he repeated.

"Yes. Anything. Name your price. I'll pay it. I swear."

He lowered the gun. Slowly. But didn't put it away.

"You can't pay the price for what he stole. No amount of money could cover it." He moved toward me now, the gun still in his hand. 

"But there might be another way to settle the debt."

Hope flared in my chest.

"What way? Tell me. I'll do it."

Dante stopped in front of my chair. Looked down at me with those dark, unreadable eyes.

"Marry me."

The words didn't make sense. I stared at him, certain I'd misheard.

"What?"

"Marry me," he repeated, his voice perfectly calm. 

"Sign a contract making you my wife. You become mine. My property, in exchange, I erase your brother's debt. He lives. You both live."

My brain couldn't process what he was saying. Marriage? To a stranger? To this man who'd kidnapped me and beaten my brother?

"I don't understand. Why would you—"

"That's not your concern." He cut me off. 

"You only need to know the terms. Marry me. Obey me, live by my rules without question, or refuse and watch your brother die. Right here, right now. Followed by your aunt, your cousins. Every single person you've ever cared about, one by one, until the debt is paid in blood."

The casual way he said it. Like threatening 

to kill my whole family was nothing.

"You're insane," I whispered.

"Perhaps." He didn't seem offended. 

"But I'm also the only thing standing between your brother and a bullet in his head. So I suggest you think very carefully about your answer."

He pulled out a document from the inside pocket of his jacket, it was folded neatly. He unfolded them and held them out where I could see.

It was a contract, a marriage contract. My name already typed at the bottom next to a blank line for my signature.

"This contract is binding," Dante explained. "You sign it, you become my wife in every legal sense. You'll live where I say. Eat what I provide. Wear what I choose. You'll have no contact with your old life unless I permit it. You'll belong to me completely. Do you understand?"

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. This couldn't be real. Things like this didn't happen in real life.

"And if I refuse?"

Dante raised the gun again. Pointed it back at Matteo's head.

"Then I start eliminating your family. Beginning with him."

"No. Wait. Please—"

"I'm done waiting, Miss Santos. You have ten seconds to decide. Marry me and save everyone you love, or refuse and watch them die. Starting now. Ten. Nine. Eight—"

"Stop!" My voice broke. 

"Stop counting. Please."

"Seven, six, five—"

"I need time to think!"

"This isn't fair!"

"Four, three, two—"

"Okay!" The word tore from my throat. "Okay, stop. Just stop."

His finger paused on the trigger. 

"Okay what?"

My whole body was shaking. Tears streamed down my face. Every instinct screamed at me to refuse. To not give in to this insanity.

But Matteo was on the floor. Beaten and helpless. And this man's finger was on the trigger.

What choice did I have? What choice had I ever had?

"If I sign that contract," I said slowly, forcing the words out through my tears, "you'll let Matteo go? You'll leave my family alone?"

"I'll erase the debt completely. Your brother lives. Your family remains untouched. You have my word."

"Your word." I almost laughed. 

"Why should I trust your word?"

"Because I'm the only option you have, Miss Santos. And you're running out of time." He moved closer, the contract still in his hand. 

"Last chance. Sign or watch him die. Choose now."

I looked at Matteo. At my baby brother who I'd sacrificed everything for. Who'd gotten us into this nightmare.

I looked at Dante. At this cold, dangerous stranger who held all our lives in his hands.

And I knew I had no choice. Had never had a choice.

"I'll sign," I whispered. 

"I'll marry you. Just please don't hurt him. Please don't hurt anyone."

Dante smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Smart girl.”