Chapter 2: The Meat Market

“Sign the papers.”

I shoved the folded contract against his chest. His dark eyes dropped to my hand, then slowly dragged back up to my face.

He didn't ask what the contract was for. He didn't ask who I was. He pulled a silver pen from his suit and scrawled a sharp, violent signature across the bottom line.

He handed it back.

Enzo.

No last name. Just Enzo.

“Deal,” he said.

Before I could breathe, his hand clamped around my wrist. He didn't yank me, but his grip was absolute, dragging me out of the dark hallway and toward the back exit.

“Wait, my friend—” I started.

“She’s already in the car,” he cut me off, pushing the heavy metal door open.

We stepped into the freezing alleyway. Two massive guards flanked us. I was shoved into the back of a black, armored SUV. Chloe was already there, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror as a guard slammed the door shut.

“Sarah, what is happening?” Chloe grabbed my arm.

“It’s fine. It’s just a contract,” I whispered, my heart hammering.

The opposite door opened. Enzo climbed in. The moment he sat down, the temperature in the car seemed to drop. He didn't look at me. He just stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched tight, his hands trembling slightly on his knees.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up to a private courthouse. A terrified judge in a robe was waiting inside. The ceremony was a blur of mumbles and signatures. When the judge told him he could kiss the bride, Enzo didn't move. He just stared at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger that made my blood run cold.

“Take the friend home,” Enzo ordered, grabbing my arm and pulling me back toward the SUV.

“No! Sarah!” Chloe screamed as a guard dragged her toward a different car.

“She’s safe,” Enzo said, his voice flat. He shoved me into the backseat and climbed in after me.

“Where are you taking me?” I demanded.

“Somewhere you can’t run.”

We drove for an hour before pulling through the iron gates of a massive, cliffside estate. The house was a fortress of glass and stone. He didn't give me a tour. He dragged me up the stairs and pushed me into a bedroom, locking the door behind us.

“I told you,” I said, backing against the wall. “No sex.”

“I don't want to have sex with you,” he said, his voice tight with pain.

He walked over to the bed and sat down, pulling off his suit jacket. His hands were shaking violently now. He looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot.

“Come here,” he ordered.

“No.”

“I need to touch you,” he growled, a desperate, agonizing edge to his voice. “If I don't, my head is going to split open. Get on the bed.”

I hesitated, but the sheer agony on his face told me he wasn't lying. I walked over and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. He immediately grabbed my waist, pulling me against his chest. He buried his face in my neck, his grip almost bruising.

The trembling stopped instantly. He let out a long, shaky breath.

“Sleep,” he muttered against my skin. “Tomorrow, we face your father.”

I didn't sleep. I stared at the ceiling all night, trapped in the arms of a monster.

The next morning, I was dressed in a simple black dress—one of the many clothes already in the closet. Enzo walked into the room wearing a fresh black suit, looking completely in control.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I’m not marrying my father’s choice,” I said firmly. “I’m going to walk in there, announce I’m already married, and walk out.”

“I know,” Enzo said, a dark, unreadable smile on his face. “I’m coming with you.”

An hour later, the black SUV pulled up to the grand cathedral where my arranged wedding was supposed to take place. The parking lot was filled with luxury cars and security.

I took a deep breath, grabbed Enzo’s arm, and walked up the marble steps. The heavy oak doors were closed. Two guards stood outside, but the moment they saw Enzo, they immediately bowed their heads and pulled the doors open.

I didn't notice the bow. I was too focused on the hundreds of guests inside.

I walked down the aisle, my heels clicking against the marble, with Enzo right behind me. My father, Richard, was standing at the altar. He turned, his face turning purple with rage when he saw me.

“Sarah!” he hissed. “What is the meaning of this? Who is this man?”

I stopped in the middle of the aisle and turned to face the crowd.

“I am already married,” I announced, my voice echoing through the silent cathedral. “The wedding is off.”

Instead of the chaos I expected, the room went completely dead silent. No gasps. No shouts. Just sheer, absolute terror.

My father’s face went ghost white. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the man standing behind me.

One of the most powerful men in the room, a rival Don, suddenly stepped forward, bowed low, and whispered, “Godfather. We weren't expecting you.”

I froze.

I slowly turned around. Enzo was looking down at me, his dark eyes gleaming with a terrifying, possessive amusement.

“Hello, wife,” he whispered.