Chapter 2: The Black SUV

My hands were tied behind my back. The zip ties bit into my skin every time the car hit a bump. I tried to move my legs, but they felt so heavy like something was holding it down. The sedative was still in my blood.

"She’s awake," a voice said.

It was a deep voice. Not the one from my apartment. This one sounded older, rougher.

I tried to blink, but the black hood was still over my head. I couldn't see anything.

"Take it off," another voice ordered.

The hood was ripped away. The sudden light blinded me for a second. I squinted, my eyes watering.

I was in the back of a massive, midnight-blue SUV. The interior was all black leather and chrome. It was quiet. Outside the tinted windows, the city lights were a blur of neon and grey. We were moving fast.

"Where am I?" I croaked. My throat felt like I’d swallowed sand.

The man sitting across from me didn't answer right away. He was huge. His suit jacket looked like it was struggling to hold back his shoulders. He had a scar that ran from his temple down to his jaw.

"You're in a car, Isabella. Relax," he said.

"Relax? You kidnapped me! You broke into my home!" I tried to sit up straighter, but my head throbbed. "Where is my mother? Tell me where she is!"

"She’s being handled," the man said. He checked a gold watch on his wrist. "We’re five minutes out."

"Handled? What does that mean? Is she hurt?"

I started to panic. I struggled against the ties, my breathing getting fast and shallow. I kicked out with my feet, hitting the back of the driver's seat.

"Hey! Watch the upholstery, kid," the driver barked without looking back.

"I don't care about your car! Let me out! Help! Someone!" I screamed at the window, even though I knew no one could hear me through the thick glass.

The big man reached out and grabbed my knees, pinning them down with one hand. His grip was like iron. "Isabella. Stop. You're going to give yourself a heart attack before we even get there."

"Get where? Who the fuck are you people?"

I asked as the big man rolled his eyes and sighed.

“My name is Enzo," he said, letting go of my legs. "And we’re the people your father should have stayed away from."

"My father is gone! He’s been gone for years! Whatever he did, it has nothing to do with me!"

Enzo leaned back and looked at me. There was almost a look of pity in his eyes. Almost.

"That’s not how it works in this world. Blood is a contract. Your father signed yours the day he took what didn't belong to him."

"I don't have anything! I work at a diner! I make eight dollars an hour plus tips!" I felt tears stinging my eyes. "I have sixty dollars in my bank account. Is that what you want? Take it! Just let me go back to my mom."

The driver snickered. "Sixty bucks. That wouldn't even cover the gas for this car."

"Shut up, Rico," Enzo snapped. He turned back to me. "We don't want your tips, Isabella. We want the Lion’s Heart."

"The what? A heart? Like... an organ?" I felt sick. Were they organ harvesters? Was that what this was?

Enzo smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "It’s a diamond, sweetheart. One of the biggest in the country. Your father stole it from the Moretti vault ten years ago. Then he vanished."

"I’ve never seen a diamond in my life," I whispered. "I swear. I didn't even know he was a thief. He told me he worked in construction."

That was a lie. I knew my father didn't work in construction but I genuinely didn't know he was involved directly with the mob.

"He was a builder, alright," Enzo muttered. "He built a lot of graves for people who got in his way."

I went cold. My father was a quiet man. He liked jazz music and making pancakes on Sunday mornings. He used to tuck me in and tell me stories about a brave knight, teach me taekwondo and whatnot. He wasn't a killer. He couldn't be.

"You're lying," I said.

"Am I?" Enzo pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and held it up.

It was a police report. Old. Yellowed at the edges. I saw my father’s face in a mugshot. He looked younger, but his eyes were the same. Cold. Sharp. Not like the dad I remembered.

"He left you and your mother in that dump of an apartment while he ran off with a stone worth over fifty million dollars," Enzo said, tucking the paper away. "The Boss has been looking for him for a long time. But since we can't find him... we found you."

"I can't help you," I sobbed. "I don't know where he is. I haven't heard from him since I was twelve. He didn't leave a note. He didn't leave a phone number. He just went out one day and never came back.”

"Then you better hope you remember something soon," Enzo said.

The SUV slowed down. We turned off the main road and onto a long, gravel driveway.

Huge iron gates swung open as we approached. I looked out the window and saw a massive estate. It looked like a castle made of glass and stone, perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean.

"Is this a prison?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"No," Enzo said, reaching for the door handle as the car came to a stop. "This is home. For as long as it takes."

The door opened, and the salt air hit my face. It was freezing. Two more men in suits were waiting by the entrance.

"Get her inside," Enzo ordered.

They pulled me out of the SUV. My legs were still shaky, and I stumbled on the gravel. One of the men caught me by the arm, his grip bruising.

"Easy, princess," he mocked.

"Don't touch me!" I snapped, trying to pull away.

"You’ve got fire," Enzo observed, watching me. "That’s good. You’re going to need it."

They led me up the wide stone steps. The front doors were at least ten feet tall, made of dark wood with silver handles. As we entered the foyer, I was stunned by how massive the place was. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and a silence so deep you could hear a needle drop.

"Wait here," Enzo said to the guards.

He walked toward a set of double doors at the end of the hall. He knocked twice. A muffled voice spoke from inside, and Enzo pushed the doors open. He disappeared inside for a moment, then came back out.

"He’s ready for you," Enzo said, gesturing to the room.

"I’m not going in there," I said, planting my feet.

Enzo didn't argue. He just nodded to the two guards. They grabbed my shoulders and literally lifted me off the floor. I kicked and screamed, but they carried me into the room like I was a piece of furniture.

They dropped me onto a plush velvet chair in the center of the room.

The door clicked shut behind me.

I was alone. Or I thought I was.

The room was a library. Thousands of books lined the walls, stretching up to a second-floor balcony. At the far end, a massive fireplace was crackling with a low flame.

A man was standing by the window, his back to me. He was staring out at the dark ocean. He was taller than Enzo, his shoulders broad under a white dress shirt. No tie. No jacket. Just him and the darkness outside.

"My mother," I said, my voice cracking. "Where is she?"

The man didn't turn around. "She is in a hotel. She is being fed. She is being watched." He said calmly.

He seemed different than the others, he carried himself with so much pride. I guess this was the king they were talking about.

"Let her go," I said. "She didn't do anything."

"Neither did you," the man said. He finally turned around.

I stopped breathing.

He was younger than I expected. He couldn't have been more than thirty.

"But that doesn't matter, does it?" he asked.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice was low, I doubt he’d hear me.

He walked toward me, his steps silent on the rug. He stopped right in front of my chair. He was so close to me I felt uncomfortable.

“Sorry for not introducing myself earlier,”

He cleared his throat.

“I’m Luca, Luca Moretti.”

I scoffed.

“So you’re the ‘king’?”

He leaned down, placing a hand on each armrest of my chair, trapping me. "You have something that I want.”

"I don't have your ‘lion’s heart,’” I air quoted, trying to look him in the eye.

"We’ll see," Luca said. He reached out and touched a stray lock of my hair. I flinched, but he didn't move his hand. "Because until I have it back, you aren't leaving this house."

"You can't keep me here! That’s kidnapping!"

Luca let out a short, cold breath that might have been a laugh. "Isabella. In this city, I am the law. I am the judge. And right now... I am your husband."

I stared at him, my mouth falling open; I didn’t know if I should laugh. "What?"

"The paperwork is already being filed," he said, pulling back and standing tall. "As of tomorrow morning, you are Isabella Moretti. My wife. My property."

"Your property? I will never marry you," I spat.

Luca looked at the door, then back at me. "You will. Because if you don't, I’ll send your mother back to that apartment. And I can't guarantee who will be waiting for her there."

He turned and walked back toward his desk. "Welcome home, Isabella."