CHAPTER SIX: Captive Heart

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.

Noa’s heart hammered in his chest like a war drum as he paced the dim hallway. Bare feet made almost no sound on the cold marble floor, but every creak of the old house hit him like a gunshot. His pulse lived in his throat now, rapid and sick with dread.

You’ll stay. Or you’ll end up like them.

Alessio’s voice echoed in his skull. The blood on Alessio’s hands wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t a threat tossed for dramatic flair.

It was a goddamn promise.

Noa shivered not from the cold, but from the terrifying pull Alessio had on him. That unholy magnetism that wrapped around his bones, yanked at his gut, and carved his name deeper under Noa’s skin. He hated it.

He hated how much he craved it.

He hated how hard he was.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath and dragged his fingers through his hair like he could claw the thought out. But it stuck. Burned. Twisted.

The mansion wasn’t a prison.

It was a cathedral of sins.

And Alessio was its high priest, its demon king, its locked fucking door.

A knock broke the silence. Low. Measured. Inevitable.

Noa’s breath hitched. His legs moved without permission. He didn’t think so. Didn’t want to think.

“Come in,” he whispered.

The door creaked open. No dramatic entrance. No theatrics.

Just him.

Alessio.

Shirt unbuttoned, chest half-bared, silver chain glinting faintly against skin that had seen violence hours ago. The blood was gone but the memory of it wasn’t. And neither was the hunger in his eyes.

Predator.

Noa’s throat closed up.

“What now?” he asked, voice splintering.

Alessio stepped inside, soft as a shadow, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

“I’m not done with you,” he said, like it was a fact of nature. Like gravity. Or God.

Noa backed up instinctively. “Why me?” he snapped, frustration and fear bleeding into his words. “I’m not like your other pretty little things.”

Alessio’s laugh was low and deadly. “Exactly.”

That one word landed like a blade.

Alessio stalked forward, slow and patient, like he had all night and every night after that to ruin him.

“You think this is about romance?” His voice turned mocking, dangerous. “This isn’t about candlelight and poetry, amore. This is about power. About possession. I see something I want, I take it. And I won't let it go.”

“You’re fucking insane.”

“And you’re still here.”

Noa’s back hit the wall with a thud, and he flinched. His whole body buzzed rage, terror, arousal, everything tangled together, fighting for dominance.

Alessio stepped into his space. “Don’t fight me,” he murmured. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Noa shoved at his chest. “Get the fuck away from me.”

Alessio let him for half a second. Then grabbed his wrists, pinning them high above his head. The move was effortless. Like he’d done it a hundred times. Maybe he had.

“Say stop,” he whispered against Noa’s cheek.

Noa opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“Exactly.”

His mouth crushed down like a goddamn hurricane heat, hunger, claiming. Noa gasped, body betraying him as Alessio’s tongue slid past his lips, tasting the fear and desire tangled in his breath.

“Why are you doing this?” Noa rasped, turning his face away.

Alessio dragged his lips down Noa’s neck like he was licking salt from the edge of a glass. “Because you need it.”

“No, I ”

“Need someone who’ll ruin you right. Someone who sees your cracks and doesn’t fill them rips them open wider.”

“You’re not saving me,” Noa hissed.

Alessio smiled darkly. “I’m not here to save you. I’m here to own you.”

The words hit like a whip. Noa shivered.

Alessio stepped back suddenly. Gestured to the door.

“Come,” he said.

“What?”

“I want to show you something.”

Noa didn’t move. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Alessio raised an eyebrow. “Then I’ll carry you. Again.”

Noa gritted his teeth and followed, rage burning in his gut like acid.

The hallway twisted deeper into the mansion’s bones. They passed faded portraits, cold stone arches, and mirrors that reflected them like ghosts.

Alessio stopped in front of a thick iron door recessed into the wall. No keypad. Just a heavy lock he twisted open with a key pulled from around his neck.

“Ever heard of a confession booth?” he asked, voice casual.

Noa blinked. “What ?”

The door creaked open. The air that rolled out was cold. Metallic. Ancient.

Inside, chains dangled from the ceiling. A single leather chair sat center stage, bathed in sterile light.

Noa’s blood turned to ice.

“This is where they broke,” Alessio said softly. “Where they begged. Lied. Prayed.”

Noa’s legs locked. “Why the fuck are you showing me this?”

Alessio turned to him slowly. “Because I want you to understand. You replaced someone.”

Noa’s heart lurched.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means they failed,” Alessio said. “And I never fail twice.”

He grabbed Noa by the throat, not hard, not choking. Just a grip that said, you belong to me.

“You think I’m dangerous now?” he whispered. “You haven’t even seen the monster yet.”

Noa’s breath came fast. Shaky. “You’re fucking sick.”

“And still, you’re hard,” Alessio whispered.

Noa hated him more than anything. He hated how true that was.

Alessio kissed him again, rough and possessive. “Say it,” he murmured against his mouth.

“I hate you.”

“Say you want me.”

Noa’s body trembled. “I want ” He choked. Couldn’t finish.

Alessio licked his bottom lip. “Good enough.”

He shoved Noa back against the wall, stripped his shirt off, and dropped to his knees. “Beg.”

Noa bit down on his knuckle, gasping as Alessio’s mouth found him, hot and perfect.

It wasn’t just sex. It was destruction. Worship. Control.

He came with a cry that echoed off stone walls, collapsing against Alessio like he was the last solid thing in the world.

Alessio rose, wiped his mouth, and cradled Noa like he was something fragile and broken.

“You’ll sleep in my bed again,” he whispered. “You’ll wake up beside me. You’ll stay.”

Noa couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

He let himself be carried back. Tucked into sheets that felt like sin.

And for a moment, a breath, a blink, he let himself believe the worst was over.

It wasn’t.

Hours later

The room was dark when he woke.

No Alessio.

Cold sheets.

The scent of blood still faint in the air.

Noa sat up fast. Panic squeezed his lungs.

Footsteps. Voices.

He crept to the door. Pressed his ear to the wood.

“Is he ready?” a deep voice asked.

Alessio’s voice came through low, smooth, controlled. “Almost. Soon, he’ll be the key.”

The key?

Noa’s blood iced over.

“What key?” he whispered.

Behind him snap.

The sound of something breaking.

He spun around just in time to see the shadows ripple.

A whisper slid through the dark, not Alessio’s.

“You shouldn’t be here, Noa.”

He backed up until his spine hit the wall. “Who the fuck”

Another voice. Younger. Closer.

“Run. While you still can.”

Then darkness swallowed him whole.