Chapter 5: The Game Begins

“Come with me,” Lorenzo said, turning to leave.

Elena exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She was in. No turning back now.

The real game had just begun.

Elena followed Lorenzo through the dimly lit corridor, her heels clicking softly against the marble floors. The air felt heavy with anticipation as they approached a set of double doors. She could hear faint murmurs from the other side, voices low and expectant.

Lorenzo pushed the doors open, revealing a vast, open courtyard illuminated by torches mounted on the stone walls. The space was filled with members of the DeLuca family, men and women dressed in tailored suits and elegant dresses, their expressions ranging from curiosity to quiet approval as they turned to face her.

Matteo stood near the center, a smirk playing on his lips, while Isabella beamed excitedly from beside him. Marco and a few other high-ranking members formed a semi-circle, their postures rigid with authority.

Lorenzo placed a firm hand on Elena’s lower back, guiding her forward as the crowd parted for them. She kept her chin high, masking the slight unease curling in her stomach. This was the moment of truth.

Lorenzo raised a hand, silencing the murmurs. His voice was strong, commanding. “Tonight, we welcome a new member into our family. Elena Russo has proven herself worthy of our trust.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd.

“As you all know,” Lorenzo continued, “loyalty is everything in this family. Trust is earned, not given. And to be one of us, one must bear the mark of the DeLuca legacy.”

Elena’s pulse quickened as Marco stepped forward, holding a small silver box. He flipped it open, revealing a branding iron with the DeLuca crest at the tip. The metal glowed red-hot from being heated in the open flames nearby.

She had anticipated something like this—some form of initiation—but seeing the branding iron sent a chill through her.

Lorenzo turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Are you ready to be one of us, Elena?”

She met his gaze steadily. “Yes.”

A murmur of approval spread through the gathering.

“Hold out your arm,” Lorenzo instructed.

Elena slowly extended her left arm, fingers trembling slightly. Two men stepped forward, gripping her wrist and forearm to hold her steady.

“This will hurt,” Lorenzo warned, his voice quieter now, almost intimate.

“I can handle it,” Elena replied.

Without hesitation, Marco pressed the burning metal against her skin.

A sharp, searing pain shot through Elena’s arm, white-hot and blinding. She gritted her teeth, refusing to cry out, though her nails dug into her palm. The scent of burning flesh filled the air.

After what felt like an eternity, Marco pulled the branding iron away. The crest—a bold, intricate symbol of the DeLuca family—was now etched onto her skin, red and angry.

A beat of silence followed before the gathered family erupted into cheers and applause.

Isabella was the first to step forward, a bright smile on her face as she took Elena’s hands. “Welcome, Elena! It’s about time we had another woman in the family.”

Elena forced a smile, though her arm throbbed in protest. “Glad to be here.”

Lorenzo studied her for a moment before nodding in satisfaction. With a smirk, he grabbed a bottle of champagne, popped it open, and raised it high.

“Let the party begin!” he declared.

The room erupted in cheers, glasses clinking, voices rising in excitement.

Elena forced a smile, but deep down, she knew this was only the beginning. The real test was still ahead.

The courtyard had transformed into a party, a stark contrast from the solemn ceremony. Cigars were lit, glasses clinked, and the tension had melted into something else—something more indulgent.

Elena stood near the bar, swirling a glass of whiskey in her hand, the burn in her arm now a dull throb. She had played her part well. But she wasn’t foolish enough to let her guard down.

“You made it,” Matteo said, suddenly appearing by her side, a sly smirk tugging at his lips as he raised his wine glass.

“Supongo que sí (I guess so),” Elena replied, the clink of their glasses echoing softly.

Matteo’s smirk deepened. “Now you can be mine.”

Elena’s expression hardened. “I belong to no one.”

Matteo chuckled, unfazed. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then why fight it?” He leaned in, his fingers trailing along her chin as he cupped it, tilting her face up to his. His touch was possessive, his gaze smoldering with something dark.

Elena’s jaw clenched as she slapped his hand away. “I told you—I’m here for a fresh start. Not to be someone’s plaything. Not to jump from one bed to another.”

Matteo let out a low, amused chuckle. “But that’s all you’ve ever known, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper, his smirk taunting. “That’s who you are, querida (darling). I don’t know why you keep running from it.”

Elena’s eyes darted around the room, searching for Isabella. Matteo was beginning to test her patience, and it was only a matter of time before he pushed her too far.

Her gaze landed on Isabella, who was deep in conversation with Lorenzo. But it wasn’t Isabella who held her attention—it was Lorenzo himself. His dark eyes were already on her from across the room, his expression unreadable as their gazes locked.

“Looking for an escape?” Matteo’s voice yanked her back to reality, laced with amusement. He took a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling a puff of smoke directly into her face. “Am I boring you, querida?”

Elena waved the smoke away with a look of irritation. “Boring me?” She scoffed, arching a brow. “No, Matteo. You’re just painfully unbearable.”

Matteo’s smirk faltered. His dark eyes flickered with something far less playful now. The amusement drained from his expression, replaced with something colder. Dangerous.

He took a step closer, the air between them thick with tension. “You should appreciate it while I’m nice to you, Elena,” he said, his voice low but laced with warning. “You do not want to cross my path. I can make your stay in this family unbearable… and I can make you disappear for good.”

Elena held his gaze, refusing to flinch, but her pulse quickened. Matteo wasn’t just throwing words around—he meant every single one of them.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out, shoving past a few people in his path.

Elena exhaled slowly, watching him go. If Matteo was this volatile, what would Lorenzo be like? She hadn’t intended to get on his bad side, but his arrogance was suffocating.

Before she could dwell on it further—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Gunshots.

The music screeched to a halt. The lively chatter died instantly, replaced by a deafening silence as everyone froze.

Another round of shots rang out, this time closer.

Inside.

Inside The Black Orchid.