THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT AND FINAL SUBMISSION

Luca’s POV

The private jet sliced through the night sky at cruising altitude, the cabin a cocoon of muted luxury and terror. My wrists were secured to the armrests with soft leather cuffs—Sofia’s touch of mercy, perhaps, or just another layer of control. The toxin she’d forced down my throat burned low in my veins, a slow fire that hadn’t yet killed but promised to if I resisted too long. Across from me, Sofia sat composed, legs crossed, the vault drive now a sleek black pendant around her neck. Enzo and Sal were bound in the rear seats, gagged and furious, their empires reduced to passengers on her flight.

Dante lay slumped in the seat beside me, still unconscious from the tranq dart, his chest rising and falling steadily. The sight of him—helpless, marked by my betrayals—twisted something deep inside me.

Sofia leaned forward, voice soft but steel-edged. “The toxin is reversible. For now. But only if you cooperate.”

I met her gaze. “Cooperate with what? Your new empire?”

“With the truth.” She uncrossed her legs, leaning closer. “You want the full backstory? Fine. After Mom and Dad died, I didn’t just grieve. I dissected. Dad’s ledgers weren’t just skimming—they were a map. Accounts linking every major family: Vitales, Morettis, Bratva, even old Sicilian bloodlines Enzo thought he owned. Dad had been compiling it for years—blackmail insurance. When Viktor killed them to silence him, I inherited the map. And the rage.”

She paused, fingers tracing the pendant. “I started small. Poisoned a low-level Bratva accountant who knew too much. Then another. By 19, I had a reputation in the shadows as ‘the Doctor’—someone who could make people disappear quietly. Enzo found me in Palermo, thought he was recruiting a tool. I let him think that. Let him fuck me, train me, promise me Viktor’s head. But I was the one collecting data. Every conversation. Every password. Every weakness.”

Her eyes darkened. “Marco’s poisoning? That was the turning point. I did it myself—swapped his IV drip during a hospital visit. Watched him fade over months. Not for justice alone. For leverage. With him gone, Dante rose—vulnerable, emotional. Perfect for me to infiltrate. I fed intel through Pietro, manipulated Teresa’s resentment, even guided Enzo’s cyber ops to weaken everyone else. The goal? A vacuum. Then I step in. One queen. One rule.”

I stared at her, the sister I’d protected now a monster wearing my face. “And me? Where do I fit?”

“You’re the key.” She reached out, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead—almost tender. “The accountant who sees numbers like breathing. You’ll manage the new empire’s finances. Clean. Legitimate on the surface. And you’ll stay loyal because…” She glanced at Dante. “Because if you don’t, he dies. Slowly. Painfully.”

The jet’s intercom crackled. Pilot’s voice: “Descent in twenty. Landing at private strip, upstate New York. Moretti safehouse.”

Sofia stood, smoothing her jacket. “Time to wake your lover.”

She injected Dante with an antidote syringe. His eyes fluttered open, disoriented, then focused—first on me, chained; then on Sofia, calm and deadly.

“You.” His voice was gravel. “You poisoned my brother.”

“And your father, indirectly,” she said coolly. “But let’s not dwell. The game’s changed. You’re both mine now.”

Dante lunged—cuffs rattling—but Sofia didn’t flinch. She nodded to the guards. “Secure him properly.”

They dragged Dante to the rear, chaining him beside Enzo and Sal. His eyes never left mine—rage, pain, possession burning.

Sofia turned back to me, unlocking my cuffs. “Come. Private cabin. We have time before landing.”

She led me to the rear compartment—a small bedroom suite, bed dominating the space. Door locked behind us.

“Strip,” she ordered, voice low.

I froze. “Sofia—”

“Not like that.” She stepped closer, fingers tracing my collarbone—where Rocco’s bite still bled. “I’m not here to fuck you, brother. That’s not the play. But you need to remember who holds the leash.”

She pushed me onto the bed, straddling my hips—not sexual, controlling. Her hand wrapped my throat—gentle at first, then squeezing. “Feel that? That’s power. The same power I used on Marco. On Enzo. On everyone.”

I gasped, air thinning. My cock—traitor again—hardened beneath her.

She smiled faintly. “See? Even you respond to dominance.”

She released, then bound my wrists to the headboard with silk ropes—soft but unbreakable. Spread-eagled, naked, helpless.

“This is your future,” she whispered, leaning down until her lips brushed my ear. “Submission. Absolute. You’ll manage my empire, keep the books clean, and every night you’ll kneel. Not for sex—though that can be arranged. For loyalty. For reminder.”

She trailed a finger down my chest, circling a nipple, pinching hard. I arched, moaning despite myself.

“Feel it,” she commanded. “The toxin makes you sensitive. Every touch amplified. Pain. Pleasure. All mine to control.”

Her hand wrapped my cock—slow, firm strokes. Not erotic intent—pure dominance. Edging me without mercy, stopping every time I neared the brink. Tears pricked my eyes; I begged incoherently.

“Please… Sofia…”

“Say it.” Her grip tightened. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m… yours.”

She released, leaving me aching, denied. “Good boy.”

The jet began descent. She dressed me in fresh clothes—simple black shirt and pants—then unchained me. “We’re landing. Behave, or Dante suffers.”

We emerged into the cabin. Dante watched, eyes blazing. Enzo and Sal glared.

The plane touched down smoothly. Outside: Moretti guards, but something was off. The airstrip was empty—no Sal’s men waiting.

Sofia smiled. “Welcome to the new headquarters.”

But as we stepped onto the tarmac, floodlights snapped on—revealing rows of armed figures.

Not Moretti.

Not Vitale.

Viktor Kuznetsov stepped forward, alive, unscathed, flanked by fresh Bratva soldiers.

“Doctor Marino,” he rumbled. “Your poison was impressive. But not fatal. I have antidotes too.”

Sofia froze.

Viktor smiled—cold, triumphant. “You thought you played everyone? I played you last. The alliance was always mine. Sal? Enzo? Pawns. The drive? Decoy. The real power?”

He gestured to me.

“Your brother.”

The toxin surged—pain lancing through my veins. Sofia’s eyes widened in horror.

Viktor laughed. “The poison she gave you? My design. Slow. Controllable. You’ll live long enough to serve. As my accountant. As my leverage.”

Dante roared, struggling against chains.

Viktor turned to Sofia. “You wanted to be queen? Kneel.”

As soldiers closed in, I collapsed—vision blurring, the world tilting.

In the darkness rushing toward me, one thought burned: Sofia had been played. We all had.

And the final poison… was obedience.