In My Captive Home

Aria’s POV

Luciano Cortez.

The son of my father’s murderer.

The man I was meant to hate forever.

The man I had been slaved to.

He was tall, about six foot two, broad-shouldered, with dark brown hair and piercing grey eyes. He carried a presence that demanded obedience without ever raising his voice.

The resemblance to the former Don was unmistakable. In that moment, it became clear he was Luciano, the new Don everyone feared.

“Where were you,” Luciano’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold, “when my uncle Ricardo was harassing her?”

The fat man stiffened.

His face was drained of color. Sweat broke out on his forehead, soaking into his collar. His lips trembled as he tried to speak.

“I… I went to ease myself, sir,” he stammered. “I only stepped away for a minute.”

Luciano turned slowly, his movements calm but terrifying. He took one step closer. Then another.

“You left her alone,” he said quietly. “In a room full of animals.”

The fat man’s knees shook so badly I thought he would collapse.

“This is your last warning,” Luciano continued, his tone deadly calm. “Next time, you won’t walk away. You’ll crawl. And you’ll beg.”

“Yes, sir!” the man blurted, nodding frantically. His hands shook like dried leaves in the wind.

Luciano dismissed him with a flick of his fingers.

The man rushed away without looking back.

I was still sitting on the floor, my hands wrapped around my neck, gently massaging the sore place where Ricardo’s fingers had crushed my throat. My body trembled even though the danger had passed.

Before I could react, Luciano bent down and lifted me.

He slung me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

“Where are you taking me?” I struggled weakly, hitting his back with my fists. His large body swallowed mine whole.

“To the place you’ll serve me forever,” he replied flatly.

“I don’t want to go with you,” I cried.

He stopped walking.

He turned and looked down at me, his face void of emotions.

“You don’t have a choice,” he said. “I own you. Your body. Your breath. Your existence. And it is my right to do with you whatever I please. So keep quiet and make this walk peaceful.”

“I would rather die than be your slave,” I spat.

He dropped me.

I stumbled back, gasping. He stepped closer until we were face to face.

That was when I saw his eyes clearly.

Grey. Cold. Merciless.

Eyes that commanded fear.  Those eyes that demanded obedience.

“Then maybe,” he said softly, “I should take you back inside and let those men finish what they started.”

My body betrayed me.

It trembled.

He was right. He knew exactly how to silence me.

I lowered my gaze.

Between him and the monsters inside, I chose him.

“Walk to the car park,” he ordered. “Tell Carmen to let you in. Don’t try to run. You won’t get far. I’ll catch you.”

His voice dropped.

“Now go.”

I wondered if this man had ever known emotions. If fire flowed in his veins instead of blood. He was too cold.

I did as I was told.

Carmen opened the car door without a word. Soon, Luciano joined me, and the car rolled through the night toward the Cortez mansion.

As the gates came into view, my chest tightened.

This place had once been my second home.

Since I was born. Since my mother died.

Three days ago, I was here laughing, eating chicken baguette with my father and Don Alejandro, sipping one of his expensive wines. I remembered my father’s smile. His calm voice.

Then everything turned to ash.

That night replayed in my mind like a curse.

Men had stormed our house with guns. My father looked strange, dizzy, unfocused, like his mind wasn’t his own. He grabbed my hands and whispered urgently to me.

“Run to the secret room,” he said. “Hide. Don’t come out. No matter what you hear.”

But I didn’t obey his orders and that mistake cost me my own freedom.

From the secret room, I watched as they dragged my father outside. I saw a huge man in a black hat but  I never saw his face,  give the order to kill my father.

The gunshots echoed.

I screamed. That scream gave me away and that was how my hideout was discovered. The men trooped in and dragged me out.

They said my father was a traitor. A murderer. That he betrayed Don Alejandro and caused the accident that killed him.

But it didn’t make sense at all.

The father I knew was loyal. Honest. A man of his word.

He raised me to believe loyalty was a shield. That kind of person can’t be who they said he was.

I swore then silently  that I would find the truth no matter how long it takes me. I would find the truth, clear his name and avenge his death.

“Rosa,” Luciano’s voice snapped me back to the present.

A short woman stepped forward. The housekeeper.

“Get her fresh clothes. Show her the bath. She stinks.”

He turned and walked away.

In the shower, I let the water fall over me.

I cried.

For my father. For my life. For the girl I used to be.

The tears mixed with the water, sliding down the drain like everything I had lost.

I stepped out and saw fresh clothes waiting for me beside the door. The soft cotton was floral patterned, and slightly transparent. I changed quickly, welcoming the warmth against my skin.

I wandered around the halls, trying to remember a place that now felt foreign then my stomach growled.

Hunger.

I hadn’t eaten in three days.

Just then, Rosa appeared.

“There’s bread and curry soup in the dining room,” she said gently. “After you eat, the Don wants you in his room.”

My stomach tightened.

Luciano wanted me in his room. What could he possibly want me for in this dark hour?

Tonight.

I didn’t know what awaited me.

But I knew one thing, nothing in this house was safe anymore.