Married At Gunpoint: The Mafia Boss Chose Me

Riley Collins's POV:

Sleep found me somehow, though I couldn't say how or why.

The sheets were cool and the mattress inviting, but what truly dragged me under was pure emotional exhaustion.

Luca spent the night lying next to me. He never reached for me or said a word. His breath came steady and close, and every so often, he'd shoot me a look, like he had something to get off his chest but never let it out. I kept my distance, staying right on the mattress's edge, barely daring to breathe.

By the time morning arrived, he was gone. He left no message, not even the scent of fresh coffee lingering in the air. The only sign he'd ever been there was the lingering warmth on his side of the bed, proof he'd left not long ago.

After a long breath, I got dressed in the outfit he'd picked out. There was a neat label: Monday, closet. I made my way out to the living room, where the driver stood waiting, face unreadable behind dark glasses.

"The boss wants you at St. James Hospital."

Without a word, I slid into the back seat. At last, I thought. Maybe today I'd finally see my little sister.

---

The car eased up to the curb at the hospital, nerves winding tight in my stomach. A security guard held the door as I stepped inside, the atmosphere heavier than usual.

Down the hall, a nurse darted past, guiding a stretcher shrouded in a bloodied sheet.

Pushing away my unease, I went straight to the front desk.

"Excuse me... Emma Collins. Can you tell me which room she's in?"

The receptionist tapped at the keyboard for a moment, then paused and shook his head.

"We don't have anyone registered under that name. Not in the patient list and not in the emergency room."

"Check again. Emma Collins. My sister was brought here over a year ago. She was in an accident..." My voice wavered toward the end.

"Miss, there's nothing in the system. Are you sure this is the right hospital?"

"Yes. I filled out the paperwork myself. This can't be happening. I called here yesterday."

"I only started a few days ago. My shift just began, so I don't recognize every name."

"My sister is eighteen. Fair skin. Brown hair." Each word pushed up against my rising panic.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. If you'd like, I can get the supervisor—"

"Get them. Now!" I yelled, shaking uncontrollably.

The driver stepped forward and tried to steady me, his voice low and even. "Mrs. Riley, please don't raise your voice. Let's sort this out calmly—"

"You knew!" I shouted, tearing away from his grip. "Tell me what you did to her!"

My hands shook so badly I could barely keep them at my sides. Every breath seemed thinner than the last. I turned in frantic circles, searching the hallways for any sign of Emma. Each glance turned up nothing— just strangers and empty corridors.

A cold dread settled in my stomach.

I staggered away from the desk, lightheaded and adrift, every step making the hospital feel less familiar.

None of this made sense. Jackson had promised to handle everything. He said she'd be here. They all did.

What if this had been a setup from the very start?

Shallow breaths came faster. The room began to tilt, the floor shifting under my feet.

"Get a grip," I whispered to myself. "Breathe. You can do this. Just focus."

A sudden uproar snapped me out of my daze.

Doctors raced down the corridor. A nurse rushed past, guiding a stretcher draped in a blood-soaked sheet.

I spun toward the source of the chaos, trying to make sense of it all.

"Major accident just outside the entrance!" someone shouted. The staff scrambled, tension crackling in the air.

Near the reception desk, a figure caught my eye. He sat off to the side, gaze fixed on me with unsettling intensity.

His hair stuck up in uneven strands, his eyes narrowed like the lights were too bright, and his shirt clung neatly to his frame.

"Luca?" I murmured, inching toward him.

But then the scent hit me—harsh cigarettes, garlic clinging to his clothes. No tattoo on his neck. And that stare... it wasn't Luca's familiar mix of hunger and fury. It was flat, sharp, dripping pure disdain.

My steps froze as if the floor had turned to glue.

"Hello...?" I whispered.

He lifted his chin, offering a twisted, exhausted smile. Yet something flickered in his gaze— something dark, something wrong.

This wasn't my husband.

A cold shiver crawled down my spine.

And not the kind that came from desire.

"Jackson," I whispered, already easing back, pulse hammering in my ears.

He arched a brow, clearly pleased I'd recognized him.

"You're... bleeding," I said quietly, attempting to steady my voice. I couldn't provoke him. Not here.

"Nothing serious enough to stop me from keeping my promises," he replied with a mocking curl of his lip. "I don't vanish that easily, Riley."

Fear pounded through me. Anger, too.

Because here he was.

The man who shoved a pen into my hand and forced me to sign away my life, only to abandon me at the altar for another woman.

The man who dragged me into a world I never chose.

"Where is my sister?"

A sly, mocking grin stretched across Jackson's face. He looked around like this was some casual chat in a cafe.

"There's no file on her here. You were supposed to keep track of that, not me. I did everything you asked. You know that."

"Did you really think I'd just hand you the one thing you cared about most?"

"Jackson..." My throat tightened on his name.

"Emma isn't here anymore," he said, stepping closer. "Maybe she got transferred. Maybe she's under watch somewhere else. Or maybe... she's just another chip in the game. You ever think of that?"

My knees buckled. The driver reached out, trying to hold me up, but I shook him off.

"You're sick! You put me through hell. Locked away for a year because of you. Forced into a marriage with a stranger—humiliated in front of everyone. Isn't that enough?"

"Look at you. The moment things got tough, you went running to my brother. You think I didn't see that? If you want your precious sister back, you'll do exactly what I say."

"He was going to kill me! You almost ended up dead yourself. And now you're threatening me?"

"Whether I step in or not makes no difference to me. You know what's on the line. If you want your sister to live, you'll do exactly as I say. If not, I'll deal with it my own way—and you'll be planning her funeral."

Emma was the only thing that mattered now.

If I wanted any hope of bringing her back, I had to rely on myself. I needed to find a way out, to play along just long enough to turn the tables on Jackson.

No matter the cost, I would see this through. Even if it was the last fight I ever won.

"Tell me what you want, Jackson." He jerked his chin toward the door, a silent order for Luca's driver to give us privacy.