BOUND AND BRANDED

The first rule of being Leo Moretti’s husband?

You never ask twice.

The second?

Never let him see you flinch.

Jacob had learned both rules by morning.

He sat alone in the massive dining room, a crystal glass of untouched orange juice sweating in his hand. The table stretched like a runway, too long for two people, too elegant for comfort. Leo wasn’t there yet, and the silence was starting to crawl under Jacob’s skin.

Matteo, the ever-smirking right-hand man, stood by the double doors like a statue with eyes.

Jacob cleared his throat. “Does your boss always skip breakfast?”

Matteo’s lips twitched. “He skips a lot of things. Breakfast. Small talk. Mercy.”

“How charming,” Jacob muttered, sipping the juice just to have something to do with his mouth.

The doors creaked open behind him. Jacob didn’t need to turn around; he felt it. That shift in the air. That weight. That quiet thunder that came with Leo’s presence.

Leo walked in, suit pressed, no tie, shirt unbuttoned just enough to suggest he didn’t care if you saw the edge of a scar. He sat down wordlessly and glanced at Jacob.

“You look like you didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t,” Jacob said flatly.

Leo nodded once. “Good.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not stupid,” Leo replied, lifting his cup. “Sleep is for people who feel safe.”

Jacob narrowed his eyes. “You want me to fear you?”

Leo’s gaze cut to him. “I want you to understand me. There’s a difference.”

Three hours later...

They drove to an unmarked building downtown in a black SUV so tinted it looked like a rolling shadow. Jacob didn’t ask where they were going. He’d learned quickly that questions only earned looks that made his skin crawl.

When the car stopped, Leo got out first.

Jacob followed.

Inside, the place looked like a private clinic, with white walls, a sterile smell, and glass doors that locked behind them. Jacob’s steps slowed.

Leo didn’t.

They stopped in front of a sleek black door. No number. No name.

Leo opened it and gestured. “After you.”

Jacob stepped in and froze.

There were no doctors inside.

Only a chair.

And a man in gloves holding a tattoo needle.

Jacob spun. “What the hell is this?”

Leo stepped in behind him, the door clicking shut. “Every man in my inner circle is marked. You’re married to me now. You don’t get to walk around with a clean canvas.”

“You’re branding me?”

Leo’s voice dropped. “I’m claiming you.”

Jacob took a shaky step back. “That’s psychotic.”

“No,” Leo said calmly. “It’s permanent.”

The tattoo was small. Simple. A black line through the Greek letter Omega, right below his collarbone, just far enough to hide under a shirt, just close enough to remind him he belonged to a killer.

Jacob didn’t scream.

But he didn’t speak, either.

Not until the needle stopped buzzing and the man with gloves left the room.

Then Leo stepped close, eyes tracing the raw skin.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

Jacob laughed, cold, bitter. “For what? Not killing me?”

“For making you untouchable.”

That night, Jacob stood shirtless in front of the mirror, staring at the mark.

It wasn’t the pain that unsettled him.

It was the power behind it.

He hated it. Hated Leo. Hated himself for not running when he had the chance.

The door opened without knocking. Again.

Leo stepped inside, eyes raking over Jacob’s bare skin. Not hungrily. Not possessively. Assessing. Like a general checking the battlefield.

“You could’ve at least warned me,” Jacob snapped.

Leo leaned against the doorframe. “Would that have made you say no?”

Jacob turned. “Maybe.”

Leo stepped closer. “No, Jacob. It wouldn’t have.”

There it was again. That voice. Low. Controlled. Weaponized.

Jacob’s chest burned. “Stop talking to me like I’m one of your soldiers.”

“You’re not.”

“Then what am I?”

Leo’s jaw flexed. “Mine.”

The next day...

The newspapers were full of them.

Moretti heir marries an anonymous male partner in a secret civil union.

Mafia rumors dismissed, Moretti calls union ‘purely personal.’

Insider sources claim Blake's brother is ‘collateral in disguise.’

Jacob threw the paper onto the floor. “Collateral in disguise,” he muttered, pacing the room.

The door opened, of course, and Matteo stepped in.

“The boss wants you downstairs.”

“Tell the boss to”

“Don’t,” Matteo cut him off, voice unusually firm. “Not today. Just... don’t.”

Jacob paused.

“Why?” he asked.

Matteo looked at him for a long moment. “Because the man you married? Today’s the anniversary of something he doesn’t talk about. And you shouldn’t test him when the ghosts are this close.”

Downstairs, Leo stood in front of a fireplace with a photo in his hand.

Jacob said nothing.

Leo didn’t look at him. “Have you ever loved someone who lied to your face?”

Jacob folded his arms. “Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“I let them go.”

Leo’s knuckles whitened. “I buried him.”

The air froze.

Jacob took a step forward. “Was he the one I reminded you of?”

Leo turned, face unreadable. “You’re not like him.”

“But you said”

“I said you remind me,” Leo snapped. “That doesn’t mean you are.”

Jacob’s throat tightened. “Did you love him?”

Leo’s eyes darkened. “I trusted him.”

“And that was the mistake?”

Leo didn’t answer.

That night...

Jacob didn’t return to his room.

He stood outside under the balcony, cigarette in hand; he didn’t smoke, but he needed something to do. The estate was quiet. Too quiet.

He should’ve been afraid.

Instead, he felt… angry. And a little hollow.

Leo appeared beside him silently.

Jacob didn’t flinch.

“You’re bleeding,” Leo said, glancing at the edge of the tattoo.

Jacob shrugged. “Guess the mark doesn’t like me.”

Leo took the cigarette from his hand and tossed it into the grass. “Don’t do that.”

“Smoke?”

“Bleed.”

Jacob turned slowly. “You care now?”

Leo’s gaze flickered. “No. I just don’t want my property damaged.”

“Right,” Jacob whispered. “Because that’s what I am to you. Property.”

Leo stepped close, face inches from his. “For now.”

Jacob didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Because for the first time since this nightmare began, Leo looked afraid of something. Not him. Not love. Something deeper.

And Jacob wanted to know what.