A kingdom of ashes

Aria didn't panic.

Not yet.

She moved through the silent mansion like a ghost, checking every door, every window.

All locked. All bolted.

She was trapped inside her own gilded cage.

Luciano had warned her — stay inside.  

He must have known this was coming.

But if he had known... why wasn’t he here?

The question gnawed at her, feeding the fear clawing up her spine.

She sprinted to the security room at the back of the house — a fortress inside the fortress — and started scanning the surveillance feeds.

The screens flickered to life.

Empty hallways.  

Empty gates.  

Empty driveways.

Then, on one screen — movement.

A black SUV idling just outside the east wing. Doors swinging open.  

Men spilling out, armed and moving fast.

Aria’s blood turned to ice.

She grabbed the nearest gun from the weapons rack — a heavy, unfamiliar Glock — and checked the safety with trembling fingers.

Luciano had taught her.  

One lesson. One chance.

She chambered a round and pressed herself against the wall.

The front door exploded inward with a thunderous crash.

They were inside.

Aria backed away, heart slamming against her ribs.

Think, Aria. Think.

Luciano’s words echoed in her mind.  

*You’re small. You’re fast. You don’t fight fair. Use it.*

She moved toward the back staircase, bare feet silent on the marble floor.

Voices floated through the mansion.

"Find her!"  

"Luciano’s little whore!"  

"Bring her to Dario alive!"

Alive.  

That was something, at least.

Aria slipped up the staircase, adrenaline sharpening every sound, every shadow.

She could make it to the roof. Signal for help. Buy herself time.

But as she reached the top floor, she found herself face-to-face with a man twice her size, gun raised.

"Don’t move," he snarled.

Aria didn’t think.

She ducked low, grabbing the heavy vase from the hallway table and hurling it into his face.

He stumbled back with a roar of pain, firing wildly.

Aria sprinted down the hall, heart hammering.

Another man appeared — this one faster.

He tackled her to the ground, the gun flying from her hand.

She kicked and clawed, but he was too strong.  

He pinned her wrists, grinning down at her with yellow teeth.

"Boss is gonna have fun with you," he said, panting.

Aria screamed — pure fury and fear — and kneed him between the legs as hard as she could.

He howled and rolled off her.

Aria scrambled to her feet, grabbed a fallen knife from his belt, and ran.

Down the hall.  

Around the corner.

Straight into Dario Ventresca.

He caught her wrist mid-swing, wrenching the knife from her grasp with a cruel laugh.

"Feisty little bitch," he said, slapping her across the face so hard her vision blurred.

Aria fell to her knees, blood filling her mouth.

"You should’ve stayed hidden, princess," Dario said, crouching in front of her. "Now you’re gonna pay for what your daddy did to my family."

Tears blurred her vision — from rage, not fear.

"You touch me," she hissed, "and Luciano will kill you."

Dario chuckled.

"Let him try."

He hauled her to her feet and started dragging her toward the door.

Aria fought. Kicked. Bit.

But it was no use.

He was bigger. Stronger.

And then — gunfire.

Loud. Sharp. Ruthless.

Dario cursed and shoved her behind him, pulling a pistol from his belt.

The front doors blew open.

And there he was.

Luciano Moretti.

A black hurricane of death and fury.

He moved like a shadow, like a storm, cutting down Dario’s men with brutal precision.

A bullet to the head. A knife to the throat.  

One by one, they fell.

Dario shoved Aria into a wall and fired wildly.

Luciano didn’t even flinch.

He closed the distance between them in three strides, disarming Dario with a vicious twist and slamming him into the marble floor.

The gun skittered away.

Luciano knelt on Dario’s chest, gun pressed against his forehead.

"You touched her," Luciano said, voice like a death knell.

Dario spat blood. "Fuck you—"

The shot echoed through the mansion like thunder.

Dario’s body jerked once, then went still.

Dead.

Aria slumped against the wall, shaking, watching as Luciano rose to his feet and turned to her.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Blood. Gunpowder. Shattered glass.

And in the middle of it — them.

Luciano crossed the room in two strides and caught her against him.

Aria collapsed into his arms, sobbing against his chest.

He held her so tightly it hurt, his fingers digging into her back.

"You’re safe," he murmured. "I’ve got you."

"You left me," she gasped, fists beating weakly against his chest. "You left me alone!"

"I’m sorry," he said, voice raw. "I’m sorry, Aria."

He kissed her hair, her forehead, her cheeks, desperate and wild.

"I thought I was protecting you," he said. "I thought... I was wrong."

She pulled back, searching his face.

For the first time, she saw the cracks in his armor.

Luciano Moretti — the brutal, unstoppable mafia king — was shaking.

"I can't lose you," he whispered, cupping her face with bloodstained hands. "I can't."

Aria’s heart cracked open.

"Then don’t," she said.

And she kissed him.

Not out of anger. Not out of fear.

But because she loved him.

God help her, she loved him.

***

The aftermath was a blur.

Luciano’s men cleaned up the mess with ruthless efficiency.  

The bodies disappeared. The blood was scrubbed away.

And through it all, Luciano never left Aria’s side.

He sat beside her on the bed, holding her hand like a lifeline.

"You’re not safe here anymore," he said. "We’ll leave tonight. Somewhere no one can touch us."

Aria nodded, too exhausted to argue.

"You’ll be free," he promised. "No more contracts. No more threats."

She squeezed his hand.

"I don’t want freedom," she said. "I want *you*."

Luciano’s eyes darkened.

"You don’t know what you’re saying."

"I do," she insisted. "I love you, Luciano. I don’t care about the rules. I don’t care about the world. I just want you."

For a long, terrible moment, he said nothing.

Then he pulled her into his lap and kissed her like he was starving.

"You’re mine," he said against her lips. "And I’m yours."

He tucked her head under his chin, rocking her gently.

"Forever," he whispered.

And for the first time in her life, Aria believed it.

***

Weeks later, they stood on the balcony of a villa overlooking the sea.

Far from the blood and betrayal of the city.

Aria wore a simple sundress, her wedding ring glinting in the sunlight.

Luciano stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, head bowed against her shoulder.

"You regret it?" he asked quietly.

She smiled.

"Not for a second."

He kissed her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

"I was broken before you," he said. "You made me human again."

Aria turned in his arms and cupped his face.

"You were never broken," she said. "You just needed someone to believe in you."

Luciano closed his eyes, soaking in her touch like a man who had lived his whole life in darkness and finally found the sun.

"I’ll burn the world down for you," he said.

Aria smiled.

"Good," she whispered. "Because I’m not letting you go."

And when they kissed — soft, slow, endless — the past melted away, leaving only this moment.

A king and his queen.

A mafia and his stepsister.

Bound by blood.  

Forged by fire.  

Saved by love.

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