Chapter 1: Sold to the Devil

(Niko’s POV)

I was born to be a king. Instead, I was sold to the devil.

The cold bite of steel cuffs burned my wrists, but it was his eyes that scorched deeper—a dark, unreadable abyss locking onto me the moment the mahogany doors groaned open.

The room was a den of power and menace—dimly lit by a single chandelier casting fractured shadows across leather armchairs, shelves lined with rare liquors, and a towering fireplace that smoldered with dying embers.

The scent of leather, smoke, and aged whiskey clung to the air, thick and oppressive, closing around me like a trap.

My body throbbed from the fight—split lip, bruised ribs—but his gaze was the sharpest blow. Still, I lifted my chin, defiance glinting in my stare.

Fear clawed at my ribs, but I buried it beneath a slow, crooked sneer. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction.

A deep voice, smooth and lethal, cut through the stillness. “Bring him here.”

Alessio De Luca.

My gaze locked onto him—the infamous Italian devil, a figure carved from shadow and sin, cloaked in a tailored black suit that dripped with wealth and the promise of violence.

Darkness seemed to breathe around him, and his eyes—cold, lethal, and fathomless—pinned me with a pressure that felt like a steel collar tightening around my throat.

A predator savoring his prey, his aura a whisper of danger and the certainty of ruin.

His men shoved me forward, but I steadied myself. “You think I’m yours to command?” I snarled, the coppery tang of blood on my tongue.

His lips curled in a slow, wicked smirk. “Think?” he echoed, rising from his chair with the grace of a panther. “No, Nikolai. I know.”

Rage boiled in my chest. My father—though not by blood, as I later learned—had sold me to this monster. I was a pawn, a bitter reminder of a woman he once claimed to love but never truly accepted.

Adopted to uphold his false legacy, I became his scapegoat when his empire crumbled. His empire of lies collapsed under his own sins—crippled by gambling and drowning in debts to powerful enemies.

But it wasn’t just greed; it was contempt. He had always resented me for being the living reminder of his failure.

Desperation and spite sealed my fate—he traded me for his freedom, crushing the illusion of family and shattering my belief that the Russian throne I once believed was my birthright had never been mine to claim.

“I don’t belong to you,” I spat, my voice sharp, raw.

In an instant, he was there—too close, his gaze a blade slicing through the air, cold and merciless.

Shadows clung to him like a second skin, and his scent—woodsmoke with a dark, sinful edge—coiled around me, thick and suffocating. His eyes, twin abysses, burned with hunger, devouring every flicker of defiance.

Fingers, rough with power, seized my chin and forced my gaze upward. His touch, deceptively soft, promised ruin.

His lips curled, cruel and slow. "You are on your knees in front of me, Niko," he drawled, the darkness in his voice dripping with wicked promise. "What else would make you believe... that I own your... everything?" he said quietly. “Mind. Body. Even the parts of you that still think they’re free.”

“Your father sold you to me to kill your future. But I have better plans....” His smirk deepened, eyes burning with a cruel, intimate hunger. “What I want, Niko,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “is to make you forget every lie you were told about who you belong to.”

The way he said it—like a promise and a threat—ignited something sharp and primal in me. My breath quickened, and his eyes—God, those eyes—devoured every flicker of defiance.

His lips curled, and he bit my lower lip with a dangerous, possessive tease. “You don’t even know how dangerous you look when you refuse to be afraid," he murmured, the darkness in his voice dripping with both mockery and something far more primal.

His thumb brushed my lower lip, slow, taunting. My body betrayed me, heat pooling low and furious. I hated him for it.

“You have fire,” he mused, his tone laced with amusement. “Let’s see how long it burns before you beg me to put it out.”

A sharp laugh escaped me. “I’ll die first.”

Alessio’s smirk deepened, and something feral flashed in his gaze. “Careful, malyshka,” he purred, his voice like velvet dragging over a blade.

For a split second, his thumb brushed the corner of my mouth — not rough, not cruel. Almost… careful.

It unsettled me more than the pain.

“I don’t mind playing rough.” His thumb lingered at my lip before sliding along my jaw, tracing the bruise from his guards. “So delicate,” he mocked, pressing harder until the ache sparked a hiss from me.

Suddenly, his fingers fisted in my hair, yanking my head back with a sharp tug that sent a shiver of pain through my scalp.

“Defiance looks good on you,” he murmured against my ear, his breath hot, his grip unrelenting.

“But I wonder... Will you fight just as hard when you realize you don’t want to lleave? His lips grazed my throat—not a kiss, but a threat. My pulse pounded beneath his mouth, and I hated how it betrayed me.

His hand eased, but his gaze, dark and ravenous, never did. “Shiver for me, Niko,” he ordered, his voice pure command. “It’s only the beginning.”

The air between us cracked—hot, dangerous, and thick with the promise of destruction. My eyes burned with rebellion, and I bared my teeth in a crooked grin. “You’ll get ash before you get surrender,” I hissed, my voice razor-edged.

Every muscle in my body screamed to lash out, to claw through his control, but I held his gaze with defiant fire, daring him to come closer, to test me—because I would not fall quietly.

His hand fell away, leaving behind an ache I despised—one that made my skin burn with unwanted need and confusion that clawed through my defiance.

Alessio’s laugh, dark and rich, rolled through the air, wicked amusement dripping from every syllable. “You’ve got teeth, Niko. I like that.” His molten eyes swept over me, slow and predatory, a hunter savoring his prey.

“But will you still bare them when you’re gasping under me?” His fingers skimmed my collar, dragging lower, slow and possessive, igniting sparks where heat met skin.

My breath sharpened, and my glare never wavered. “Dream on, De Luca,” I ground out, my voice rough, but a dark tremor twisted in my chest—an unwelcome pulse of fear and something worse. His smirk deepened, eyes dancing with delight. “Welcome to hell,” he purred, lethal and knowing. “And I don’t ruin the things I find… interesting.”

“You’re not my prisoner, Niko,” Alessio’s smirk darkened, and without warning, his teeth grazed my lower lip in a wicked, biting tease—a dangerous promise laced with heat.

“You’re my problem now.” he murmured against my mouth, his voice like velvet over a blade, cold and dripping with intent. “Let’s see how long that fire of yours lasts before it burns you from the inside.”

But hell didn’t scare me.

I was born for it.

And I’d drag him into the fire with me—let the sparks fly, burning wild and untamed.

My hate for Alessio roared, raw and blistering, scorching through the twisted heat that coiled between us.

My body burned where he’d touched me — not just with anger, but with something that made my stomach twist.

I hated that more than the chains.