Under The Mafia's Shadow.

The heavy door slammed shut behind me, the impact echoing through the room like a gunshot. A split second later came the metallic click of the lock-final, deliberate. Permanent.

My skin crawled.

I stumbled backward on instinct, my pulse roaring in my ears as I took in the enormous space around me. The room was breathtaking in the way luxury often was-designed to overwhelm, to seduce, to silence questions.

Velvet curtains in deep wine hues draped the tall windows, thick enough to block out both light and hope. Crystal chandeliers glowed warmly overhead, casting golden reflections across marble floors and polished wood. At the center of the room stood a massive four-poster bed, its dark frame carved with intricate designs, silk sheets folded back as if someone had prepared it carefully.

Too carefully.

Beautiful, yes.

But no matter how elegant it looked, no matter how much money had been poured into every detail, this wasn't a bedroom.

It was a prison.

Panic surged through me, sharp and breath-stealing. I rushed back to the door, grabbing the handle and yanking hard. It didn't move. I tried again, harder this time, the metal biting into my palms. My hands began to ache, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

"Let me out!" I shouted, my voice cracking as my fists pounded against the thick wood. "You can't keep me here!"

The sound barely seemed to travel. The walls swallowed my words whole.

Silence answered me.

My chest heaved as I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the cool surface of the door. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my breathing, trying to convince myself that this was a misunderstanding-that someone would come, that this nightmare would end as abruptly as it had begun.

Then a sound sliced through the stillness.

A scream.

At first it was muffled, distant enough that I almost convinced myself I'd imagined it. But then it came again-sharper, rawer. A man's voice, ragged and breaking under the weight of agony. Metal clanged somewhere beyond the walls. Something struck flesh. Bone cracked.

The scream tore through the space until it ended abruptly, cut off in a way that made my stomach lurch violently.

My blood went cold.

I staggered backward, my legs weak, until I hit the edge of the bed. I sank down without meaning to, my hands trembling as they gripped the silk sheets.

What kind of place is this?

What kind of man-

The lock turned.

I froze.

The door swung open slowly, as if whoever stood on the other side wanted me to feel every second of it.

And then he stepped inside.

Adrian Moretti.

I recognized him instantly, even though I'd only seen him from a distance before-at gatherings, on screens, spoken about in hushed tones. Power clung to him like a second skin. He filled the doorway effortlessly, tall and broad, his presence sucking the air from the room.

His black shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle. His collar was undone, his appearance relaxed in a way that made my skin crawl. His knuckles were raw, smeared with fresh blood that hadn't yet dried.

He looked dangerous. Ruthless.

And disturbingly handsome.

His sharp jawline caught the chandelier's light, his dark hair slicked back perfectly as if nothing in the world could disrupt his control. A face carved too beautifully for someone so merciless.

The kind of man women probably dreamed

about.

But not me.

The sight of him made bile rise in my throat. Because behind that perfect exterior was a monster who thought he could buy and own lives like toys.

"You heard."

His deep voice was calm-casual, even. As if he were commenting on something trivial. As if he hadn't just reduced another human being to screams and silence.

My throat tightened painfully. "What... what did you do to him?"

Adrian shut the door behind him, the sound final. He locked it again and slid the key into his pocket before turning back to me. Then he walked closer, slow and deliberate. Each step echoed, measured and unhurried, like a predator that knew its prey had nowhere to run.

"I gave him what he deserved."

My heart hammered violently against my ribs. "You tortured him."

He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes narrowing as if considering my choice of words. "If that's what you want to call it."

Fury flared hot in my chest, slicing through the fear. "You're disgusting," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "A monster."

His expression hardened instantly.

In two strides, he was in front of me. His fingers closed around my wrist, firm and unyielding, squeezing just enough to sting. Not enough to bruise-yet. His eyes bored into mine, cold and assessing.

"Careful with your words, Stacy."

My breath caught painfully.

My name.

Shock tore through me. "How... how do you know my name?"

His lips curved into a slow, cruel smirk. "I know everything that belongs to me."

Something inside me snapped.

Hate flared brighter than fear, hotter than the panic twisting my gut. "I'll never belong to you," I spat, wrenching my hand free from his grip.

For the first time, something flickered across his face. Amusement, perhaps. Interest.

His smirk deepened.

"You'll learn."

He released me suddenly and stepped back, as if he'd already lost interest in the struggle. I rubbed my wrist, glaring at him with every ounce of hatred I could muster.

Adrian adjusted his cuff, his voice turning cold and final. "You'll stay here until I say otherwise. Try the door again, and you'll regret it."

I wanted to scream at him. Curse him. Scratch his eyes out. But my throat locked around the words, my body trembling with the effort of holding myself together.

He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. He glanced back once, his smirk sharp enough to cut.

"Sweet dreams, Stacy."

The lock clicked behind him.

I was alone again-trapped in the silence of the golden cage.

My hands shook as I sank onto the bed, the luxury beneath me feeling like mockery.

Somewhere beyond these walls, screams echoed in my memory, and the reality of where I was finally settled in.

And in that silence, I made myself a promise.

I would never fall for him.

I would never forgive him.

I would never stop hating Adrian Moretti.

No matter how dangerous he was.

No matter how powerful.

No matter how beautifully the cage was built.