Chapter 2: The Bargain

POV: Leona Moretti

It was morning, with.the sun shining with so much glamour and energy.

Birds chirping outside occasionally and the air smelled fresh.

But I didn't feel refreshed.

I stared at the mirror, but the girl inside didn’t look like me.

She was too still. Too quiet. Her brown eyes had the same dark gold ring around the pupils, but the rest was wrong...colder, sharper. A doll dressed in another man’s idea of beauty.

I touched my reflection. My fingers were steady.

I wished they weren’t.

I remember the morning I stopped believing in safety.

It was the same morning my twenty-two year old self stood in my apartment kitchen, barefoot, in an oversized t-shirt that still smelled faintly of antiseptic from the night shift. The kettle was whistling sharply, like it was panicking and my phone was vibrating on the counter, again and again, until I snatched it up, expecting the hospital. But it wasn’t the ER. It was Luca.

He only said four words before the line went silent.

"I need you. Now."

I hadn’t known then that my life was about to end. Not physically, no. But the version of myself that existed in that kitchen...exhausted, a little lonely, but in control, that version would not survive the next month.

I used to believe my life would unfold in neat chapters like work, love, family, maybe a modest home with a garden one day. I had found purpose in healing others, the organized chaos of the hospital, the buzz of fluorescent lights, the quiet victories of bandaged wounds and stitched skin. A nurse, steady and grounded. Safe. Until Luca.

He met me outside the building. Luca’s hands were shaking, his face pale like he hadn’t slept in days. He looked like hell, unkempt, eyes sunken, body twitchy with fear. I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in without a word. The silence between us stretched until I could no longer stand it.

“What happened?”

His jaw tightened. “I fucked up.”

That wasn’t new. He always did. Right from childhood, even before their parents deaths. Luca has always dabbled in dark criminal things. Father never complained instead he praised him for being a 'smart boy', but he always earn a disapproving look from mother.

I never understood why Father never corrected him. I guess I was too young and now I'll never know. But the problem was Luca never stopped fucking up and now it brought problems every now and then.

I didn’t press him yet for information. He drove us to the edge of town, to an abandoned warehouse I'd only seen once when we were kids. He parked, killed the engine, and looked at me like he was about to confess to murder.

Turns out, he was.

“I killed someone,” he said.

The words slid off his tongue like poison.

For a long moment, I stared at him, my mind rejecting the sentence. Then he added, “Matteo. Dante’s cousin.”

Everything in me stilled. I knew Matteo. Everyone knew Matteo if you’d ever heard the name Dante Rizzoi. Matteo was the one with the easy laugh and the mean streak. Still, he was family.

“You killed him?”

“It wasn’t supposed to go down like that,” he said quickly, like if he spoke fast enough, it would erase the act. “We were arguing...about a shipment that went missing. He pulled first. I panicked.”

I didn’t know what shocked me more: that Luca had gotten involved in something that dark again, or that he was still alive to talk about it.

“Why are you telling me this?” I whispered.

He finally looked me in the eyes. “Because Dante knows.”

My stomach dropped.

That was terrible news.

“He caught me. His men found me last night. Brought me to him.”

I couldn’t speak.

“He’s going to kill me, Leona.”

I turned away, staring out the windshield like it could save me from what I was hearing.

My eyes stung with tears.

“He gave me one way out.”

I felt hope a second. I whipped my head back at him, eyes full with expectance.

“He wants to marry you.”

My eyes dimmed.

It was a quiet sentence. A death sentence. My hands went numb.

“No,” I said. It was a whisper, then a scream. “No, absolutely not.”

“It’s the only way,” Luca pleaded. “Leo, please. He said if you agree, he’ll let me go. No revenge. No blood.”

“And if I don’t?”

Luca didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Luca knew I would do anything for him. He knew I loved him because he's my only family.

But still, marry Dante?

I got out of the car and paced in the gravel. My breath caught in my throat. Marry a man I didn’t know? A man who owned my brother now? A man I’d never spoken to, but whose name tasted like violence?

“How do I even know he’ll keep his word?”

Luca followed me, grabbed my arm. “He’s a lot of things, Leo, but he’s not a liar. If you do this, I live.”

He didn’t beg. He didn’t cry. My brother was too proud for that. But his voice cracked on the last word, and it was enough.

That was the day I agreed to destroy myself to save him.

I left my job, my apartment, my dreams. I packed my life into two suitcases. I didn’t even tell the hospital why I was quitting. What do you say in your resignation letter? Leaving to become the wife of a mafia kingpin who murdered my brother’s future?

No one would understand. Hell, I didn’t understand.

And now… here I am.

The morning after the wedding. The silk sheets tangled around me like chains. The black band feeling tight on my finger heavy enough to bruise.

The man who ruined my life… and now calls me wife.

The black shirt Dante had given me hung off one shoulder. His scent was still trapped in the collar...dark woods, smoke, a hint of clove. It made my throat tighten. Not because I liked it.

Because I didn’t want to.

The windows in this room were tightly locked. No phone. No clock. No escape. Just me, my racing thoughts, and the echo of his rules replaying like a mantra I hadn’t agreed to learn.

Rule one: You don’t lock doors.

Rule two: You don’t speak unless spoken to.

Rule three: You don’t lie.

Rule four: You don’t run.

Rule five…

You don’t forget who you belong to now.

I dragged my fingers down my face and exhaled.

“Don’t cry,” I whispered to myself. “He’ll smell it on you.”

A soft knock at the door startled me. I stiffened.

Not him. His knock would be louder. Or maybe he wouldn’t knock at all.

The door creaked open. A woman stepped inside...a stranger in a sleek black dress, carrying a tray with folded clothes and a silver thermos.

She didn’t look at me. Just set the tray on the dresser and turned to leave.

“Wait,” I said, voice raw.

She paused.

“Do you know where my brother is?”

Her gaze flicked to me, and something behind her eyes shifted. Sympathy? Guilt? I couldn’t tell.

“You should eat,” was all she said. Then she was gone.

I stared at the closed door. My hands balled into fists.

 I wasn’t going to survive this by waiting to be told what came next.

So I ate because I needed the energy.

I exercised a bit and by the time I was done, it was past noon.

I dressed in the clean clothes left for me...black pants, soft long-sleeved top, no shoes. No bra. 

Man was obsessed with black.

Everything designed for control. Modesty shaped like obedience.

But I wasn't feeling modest.

I cracked the door open, it wasn't locked and stepped out. Quiet. Careful.

The hall was wide, dimly lit. Quiet.

My bare feet made no sound as I moved.

There had to be a way out.

A phone. A stairwell. A window.

Anything.

I crept past a row of tall doors. Paintings lined the walls...stormy oceans, burning churches, a woman in a red dress with her face turned away.

Then I saw him.

At the end of the hall, in front of an open door.

He hadn’t seen me yet.

Dante Rizzo.

Shirt sleeves rolled up. Tattoos winding like smoke around his forearm. He was talking to someone on the phone, voice low and lethal.

“She doesn't need to know what Luca did. Not yet. If she finds out too soon, we lose leverage. And I don’t like repeating myself.”

Luca.

My brother.

I made a sound accidentally.

His phone dropped to his side, still connected.

I couldn't stay here. So I broke a rule.

I ran.

Not because I thought I could escape.

Not because I had a plan.

But because instinct screamed louder than reason. And fear, when sharp enough, makes you forget you’re in a maze built by a predator.

The hallway stretched endlessly, every door a dead end. My feet slapped against the marble, cold air biting at my skin, Dante’s voice still echoing in my mind...

 “She doesn’t need to know what Luca did.”

What did he do?

What did my brother do to him...to me?

My breath hitched as I rounded a corner and slammed into something solid.

Someone.

Large hands grabbed my shoulders, steadying me.

I gasped.

Not Dante. Phew.

A stranger.

He was tall. Early forties maybe. Sharp suit, shaved head, eyes like cracked ice. No smile. No warmth.

“Going somewhere, Mrs. Rizzo?”

His grip was firm, not painful. But it was the tone that told me I’d just run into another kind of cage.

“Let me go,” I whispered, trying to twist free.

He didn’t budge. “He said you might try this. First night and already breaking rules.”

Rule four: You don’t run.

The man turned slightly. I followed his gaze.

Dante.

He was walking toward us, calm as a tide, not hurrying. Like he had all the time in the world.

And yet… I backed up instinctively.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t curse. His expression was unreadable.

“Thank you, Marcello,” he said to the man, who released me and stepped aside like a soldier following silent orders.

Dante didn’t touch me.

He just looked at me.

That was worse.

I straightened, pretending I wasn’t trembling. “You lied to me.”

“About what?” His voice was even. Almost amused. “Your vows? Your freedom? Or your brother?”

“I heard you...”

“No,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “You listened. You just didn’t understand.”

I backed up until my spine hit the wall.

“I’m not your prisoner.”

His hand braced the wall beside my head.

 “Aren’t you?”

The air between us crackled.

“You married me, Leona. You signed your name next to mine. Do you think this ends with cold sheets and silent meals?”

“I married you to protect my brother.”

That's it and That's all.

“And yet,” he murmured, brushing a knuckle under my chin, “he’s the one who put you here.”

My body went still.

What was that supposed to mean.

“What did he do?” I whispered.

His eyes darkened. “Ask him...when he grows the balls to face you.”

He stepped back and motioned down the hall. “Come.”

I didn’t move.

“I said...”

 “I’m not a dog,” I snapped interrupting him.

He stopped. Turned slowly. Smiled.

Not kindly.

“No,” he said, voice silk-wrapped steel. “You’re a Rizzo now. That’s worse.

He led me to a small room, bare walls, single chair, and a low table.

On it was a red file folder.

“Sit.”

I sat. He didn’t.

He opened the folder and pulled out a photo.

Luca.

My brother. In an alley. Hands covered in blood. A man crumpled at his feet. Another standing behind him...face blurred.

“Two years ago,” Dante said. “He killed the wrong man. Mine.”

My mouth went dry. “No… Luca said it was a setup, he didn’t know....”

“Luca knew exactly what he was doing,” Dante said, eyes gleaming. “But he didn’t know who the body belonged to. Until it was too late.”

My hands curled into fists.

“He begged,” Dante continued. “Not for his life. For yours.”

My world tilted.

“Why me?”

He leaned down, face inches from mine.

“Because your last name was currency. And he spent you.”

My breath caught.

He looked up.

Our eyes locked.

My heart fell out of my chest.

He narrowed his eyes.

I did the only stupid thing I could think of.

I ran.