HIS STOLEN PRIDE

The rain came down in silver sheets, soaking through Elena Romano’s thin jacket as she hurried across the narrow bridge. Her father’s voice still rang in her ears, sharp and urgent over the phone:“Come home. Now.”

It wasn’t unusual for him to demand her presence, but tonight there had been something in his tone that unsettled her. Fear, maybe. Desperation. He had many enemies, and Elena had long ago stopped pretending not to know what kind of man her father really was. The Romano family thrived on secrets and blood deals, and Elena had spent her life trying to distance herself from it.

The streets were nearly empty, the storm keeping even the city’s night crawlers indoors. She tightened her hood and quickened her steps, her shoes slapping against wet pavement. The sooner she got home, the sooner she could lock her door and shut out the world her father kept dragging her into.

A low hum of an engine pulled her attention. A black car slowed beside her, its windows tinted dark. Elena’s stomach tightened. She kept walking, refusing to look, but the car crept along at her pace.

The window slid down with a mechanical whir. A man’s voice floated out, calm and smooth, carrying an edge of menace.“Miss Romano.”

Her breath caught. She turned her head just enough to see a man inside the car, his face scarred across the cheek, his gaze sharp and assessing.“Your father sends his regards,” he said.

Before Elena could react, the back door swung open. Two men in black stepped onto the slick pavement. She turned to run, but a hand seized her wrist with iron strength.“Let me go!” she shouted, twisting and kicking, her hood falling back to expose her rain-drenched hair.

A knife pressed against her side, stealing the air from her lungs.“Don’t fight,” one of them growled. “It’ll be easier that way.”

Her heart hammered. “Please—”

A cloth smothered her mouth, damp and sharp with a chemical sting. Panic surged as she clawed at the hand holding it, but her vision blurred. The world tilted. Her limbs grew heavy, betraying her.

The last thing she saw was the scarred man’s gold ring glinting in the streetlight—a lion devouring a crown—before darkness swallowed her.

When Elena woke, the world had changed.

She lay on a massive bed draped in dark velvet. The air smelled faintly of leather and smoke, and the walls gleamed with wealth—mahogany panels, crystal chandeliers, and heavy curtains that shut out the storm.

She bolted upright, her pulse racing. Her wrists were free, but the unfamiliar room pressed down on her like a cage.“Good,” a deep voice said from the shadows. “You’re awake.”

Elena’s eyes darted across the room. A man sat in a leather chair near the fireplace, his posture relaxed, but his presence was suffocating. He leaned forward slightly, and the firelight caught his face.

He was beautiful, in a dangerous way—dark hair slicked back, sharp jawline, and lips curved in a faint smirk. But his eyes… his eyes were steel, cold and merciless, the kind that promised ruin.“Who are you?” Elena whispered, her throat dry. “Where am I?”

The man rose with the grace of a predator. His tailored suit clung to broad shoulders, his every movement deliberate, controlled. He stopped just in front of her, tilting his head as though studying an object he already owned.“My name,” he said, his voice smooth and low, “is Alessandro De Luca.”

Her stomach dropped. She had heard that name countless times in hushed whispers, in warnings murmured at the edges of parties, in late-night news stories her father pretended not to watch. The De Lucas were not just a mafia family—they were the mafia family. Ruthless. Untouchable.“You…” Elena stammered, her pulse thunderous. “You’re the Don.”

A smile ghosted his lips.“Very good. And you are Elena Romano. Daughter of Salvatore Romano. Blood of the man who betrayed me.”

Her chest tightened. “Betrayed? My father wouldn’t—”

Alessandro’s gaze sharpened, silencing her. He stepped closer until the space between them vibrated with tension. He reached out, lifting her chin with the barest touch of his finger.“Your father made promises,” he said. “He broke them. Men have died because of him. And now, he will learn what it means to lose what he values most.”

Elena’s breath hitched.“Me.”

His smirk deepened, though his eyes remained hard as iron.“You are his daughter. His weakness. His debt.”

Anger flared through her fear, hot and defiant. She shoved his hand away and glared at him.“I am not a pawn in your game. If you think I’ll just sit here while you—”

In a blur, Alessandro moved closer, his presence overwhelming. His cologne—rich, musky, dangerous—wrapped around her as his voice dropped to a whisper.“You don’t get to think, Elena. Not anymore.”

Her pulse stumbled, fear and something else tangling inside her. She hated him—hated the power in his eyes, the way he spoke as if she already belonged to him. Yet beneath the fear was a spark she couldn’t explain, a reckless curiosity that terrified her even more.

The door creaked open. One of his men stepped in, bowing his head.“Boss. The Romano estate has been secured. But…” He hesitated. “There’s something you need to see.”

Alessandro’s jaw flexed. He glanced back at Elena, his gaze lingering like a warning, then strode toward the door.

Silence thickened. The fire hissed softly. Elena pressed her hand against her chest, trying to steady her heart. She could hear faint voices beyond the door, low and urgent—then, suddenly, a shout. A crash.

Her pulse quickened. She moved toward the sound, pressing her ear to the cold wood. Another voice—Alessandro’s—cut through the chaos. Hard. Commanding.“Find him. Now.”

Elena froze. Find who?

Footsteps pounded the hall, followed by the metallic clink of a gun being reloaded. Her throat went dry. She stepped back, scanning the room for an escape route. The windows were barred, the door locked, but in the corner—a narrow servant’s door, half-hidden behind the curtains.

Her heart hammered. Run, Elena.

She darted across the room, fingers trembling as she gripped the small handle. It opened with a soft creak, revealing a dim passage lit by a single bulb. She hesitated only a second before stepping inside.

The air was cold, stale. She crept through the narrow corridor, her bare feet silent against the floor. Voices grew fainter, but one stood out—deep and furious. Alessandro.“He’s gone? Then bring me the proof. If Romano thinks he can hide—he’s already dead.”

A chill swept through her. Her father. Gone.

Her stomach twisted. She wanted to scream, but a sound behind her made her spin. A shadow detached from the wall—a figure, tall and silent, blocking the passageway.“Elena Romano,” the man rasped. “The Don said not to leave.”

Before she could react, his hand shot forward.She stumbled back, heart pounding, but the cold steel of a weapon caught the faint light between them.

Then—darkness.