Chains of Silence

(Alexander’s POV)

The mansion was too quiet. Not the silence of peace, but the silence that comes after blood has been spilled, when men lower their voices out of respect—or fear. My hands were scrubbed clean, but the faint burn of the night’s violence clung to me. No amount of water could wash away the memory of what I’d done.

Yet what stayed with me most wasn’t the faces of the men who had begged for mercy. It wasn’t the heat of blood on my knuckles or the stench of death clinging to my clothes.

It was Isabella.

Her eyes when she looked at me—wide, stormed with fear, threaded with something else she probably hated herself for. Desire. A need she didn’t understand. I had kissed her, desperate, consuming, and she hadn’t pulled away. She’d let me taste her fear, her uncertainty, and the truth of it all gnawed at me.

For the first time in years, I wondered if I was losing control.

I lit a cigarette and leaned against the window of my private study, staring into the night. Smoke curled in the air, blurring the reflection of my own face in the glass. The city stretched in the distance, glittering and restless. Somewhere out there, enemies plotted, and men whispered my name like a curse.

The door opened, and one of my lieutenants stepped inside. Viktor. His frame filled the doorway, his expression grave.

“We need to talk,” he said.

I nodded once, flicking ash into the tray. “Then talk.”

He hesitated—a mistake. I hated hesitation.

“There’s been chatter,” he said finally. “The families are restless. Too many bodies turning up, too many questions without answers. They’re circling, Alexander. Looking for weakness.”

My jaw tightened. “And what have you told them?”

“The truth,” he said carefully. “That there is no weakness. That you control the board.”

“Good,” I said flatly. “Because the moment they believe otherwise, this house falls.”

Viktor shifted his weight, and his eyes flicked toward the hallway outside. “There’s more. Some of the men are… uneasy. They whisper about the girl.”

My body went rigid. “Isabella.”

He didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

I turned slowly, my eyes locking on his. “What do they say?”

“That you’re distracted,” he admitted. “That she’s a liability. A crack in the armor. Some even think…” He trailed off.

“Think what?” I demanded, my voice sharp as a blade.

“That she might be used against you.”

The silence that followed was heavier than gunfire. I set the cigarette down, crushing it into ash with deliberate calm.

“Find out who started it,” I said coldly. “And when you do, bring them to me.”

Viktor nodded. He didn’t need to ask what would happen next.

When he left, I poured myself a drink, whiskey burning down my throat like fire. The men weren’t wrong. Isabella was a weakness. The way I looked at her, the way I couldn’t stop myself from wanting her, protecting her—it was obvious to anyone with eyes. And in this world, a weakness wasn’t just dangerous. It was deadly.

I couldn’t let her become a pawn.

I left the study and walked the hallways, my steps echoing. The mansion was alive in the shadows, guards at every corner, the hum of radios in their ears. Yet the air felt tense, uncertain. Whispers carried farther in silence.

When I reached Isabella’s door, I didn’t knock. I pushed it open.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her body wrapped in one of the silk robes I’d ordered for her. Her eyes snapped to mine, startled.

“Alexander,” she breathed, standing quickly.

I shut the door behind me, the click echoing. “You were wandering last night.”

Her lips parted, guilt flashing across her face. “I—I couldn’t sleep.”

I stepped closer, my gaze pinning her in place. “You were near the study. You heard things you shouldn’t have.”

Her silence confirmed it.

I moved until I stood inches from her, tilting her chin up with a finger. “What did you hear?”

She swallowed hard. “That you’re at war. That they think… I’m in danger.”

Her voice cracked on the last words, and I saw the fear in her eyes, raw and real. It struck me deeper than any bullet.

“You are in danger,” I said simply. “As long as you’re with me.”

Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t look away. “Then why keep me here?” she whispered. “Why not let me go before it’s too late?”

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Because it’s already too late. You’re mine, Isabella. They’ll come for you whether you’re here or halfway across the world. And I don’t trust anyone else to protect you.”

She shook her head, trembling. “Protect me? Or keep me?”

The distinction cut sharper than I expected. I gripped her chin tighter, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Both.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t resist. She never did. That was what terrified me most—how much she wanted to resist, and how much she didn’t.

I released her and turned away, pacing the room. “The men whisper because they’re afraid. Afraid that you’ve made me soft. Afraid that I’ll bleed for you and leave them exposed. But they forget…”

I turned back, my voice low and lethal. “…they forget that I don’t mind bleeding. As long as everyone else drowns first.”

Isabella’s eyes widened, but she said nothing. The silence between us stretched taut, fragile as glass.

I closed the distance again, my hand brushing her cheek, softer this time. “Don’t let their whispers poison you. You belong to me, and I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine.”

Her lips parted, but she said nothing. I could see the war in her eyes—fear, anger, longing—all colliding.

Before I could say more, there was a knock at the door. Sharp. Urgent.

“Come,” I barked.

Viktor entered, dragging a man by the collar. One of my own soldiers. The man’s face was pale, his eyes wild with fear.

“We found him,” Viktor said. “The one spreading doubts.”

I felt Isabella stiffen beside me, but I didn’t look at her. My gaze was locked on the trembling man shoved to the floor at my feet.

“Please,” the man stammered, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean—”

I cut him off with a single look. Cold. Final.

“You questioned me,” I said softly. “You questioned her. That, I cannot forgive.”

I drew my pistol, the weight familiar in my hand. The man whimpered, crawling back. Isabella let out a sharp gasp, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Alexander,” she whispered, voice trembling.

I hesitated. Just for a heartbeat. Then I pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the room, the man crumpling instantly. Silence followed, heavier than before.

I turned, my eyes meeting Isabella’s. Her face was pale, her body shaking, but she didn’t look away.

“Chains of silence,” I murmured, holstering the weapon. “That’s how I keep order. That’s how I keep you safe.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

I stepped closer, cupping her face in my bloodstained hands. “Hate me if you must, Isabella. But remember this—I will destroy anyone who dares to threaten you. Even if it means burning the world to ash.”

Her tears spilled silently, but she didn’t pull away. She never did.

And in that moment, I knew. She feared me. She desired me. And she was already mine in ways neither of us could undo.