Twisted Vows (The Savage Enforcer #1)

Chapter One

The room was suffocating. Not from the thick cigar smoke curling in the air or the heat of the Los Angeles summer pressing against the tall windows—but from the weight of betrayal. Isla Marino stood in the middle of her father’s study, spine rigid, heart slamming against her ribs, as the man who had raised her sentenced her to a fate worse than death.

“You will marry Matteo DeLuca.”

Her father’s voice was steel, a declaration carved in stone. No room for argument. No room for escape. But Isla had never been one to submit.

“Absolutely not,” she spat, stepping forward, defiance crackling in her veins. “I am not some pawn for you to trade.”

Leonardo Marino, the infamous Los Angeles crime boss, sighed as if she were a petulant child. “This war will end in blood, Isla. If you marry him, we prevent a massacre.”

“Then let the blood flow freely,” she hissed. “I won’t be sacrificed to that monster.”

Matteo DeLuca. The name alone sent ice through her spine. The enforcer of the DeLuca family, Rome’s most feared crime syndicate. A man rumored to be as cold as he was ruthless. He wasn’t a husband. He was an executioner. And her father was handing her over like a lamb to the slaughter.

Her father’s lips flattened into a thin line. “You have no choice.”

Fury surged inside her, blistering and violent. “No choice?” She laughed bitterly. “You raised me to be strong, to fight. And now you expect me to just—what? Bow down and play the perfect mafia wife to a man who would rather slit my throat than share a bed with me?”

Leonardo’s expression hardened. “You will do as you’re told.”

“No.” Isla’s hands curled into fists. “I won’t.”

She turned on her heel, heading for the door, pulse hammering. She needed to run—to think—to get away before her father’s madness could cage her.

She never made it to the hallway.

A sharp grip closed around her arm. Strong. Merciless.

She gasped, her body recoiling in shock.

It wasn’t just any of her father’s men.

It was Nico.

The betrayal struck harder than any slap. Her pulse stuttered, disbelief washing over her like ice. Nico—her friend, her protector, the man who had always sworn he would stand by her side—was the one dragging her away.

“No,” she choked out, her struggles faltering for a moment. “Nico, please. Not you.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “Don’t fight this, Isla,” he murmured, voice tight, as if he couldn’t even look her in the eye. “It’s already done.”

She shook her head wildly, trying to pull free, her nails biting into his skin. “You swore—you swore you’d never let them do this to me!”

Nico flinched, but he didn’t let go. “I don’t have a choice.”

Her heart shattered. “There is always a choice!” She turned her desperate gaze toward her father, but his face was a mask of cold detachment. “Please! He doesn’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this!”

Her father didn’t blink. “You are my daughter. And you will do what is necessary for this family.”

Her breath came fast and uneven. She wrenched against the iron grip holding her, but it was useless. The men dragged her back, her father watching without a flicker of remorse.

She was no longer Isla Marino, daughter of a king.

She was a prisoner in a war she never chose.

And her cage was a marriage sealed in blood.

The thought clawed at her, venomous and inescapable. Isla struggled harder, her nails raking against Nico’s wrist now, tears stinging her eyes. “You can’t do this,” she snarled, voice cracking under the weight of her fury. “Nico, please—don’t let them do this to me.”

Nico’s face was stone, but his eyes—those traitorous eyes—held something she couldn’t name. Regret? Guilt? Weakness? But he didn’t stop. He tightened his grip, dragging her forward. “I’m sorry, Isla.”

Leonardo simply watched, expression unmoved, his cold indifference cutting deeper than any blade. “Enough.”

One word. Sharp, final. The guards tightened their grip.

Isla’s breath came in ragged bursts. She was losing this fight, and she knew it. Desperation curled around her heart, squeezing it until she could hardly breathe. “I will never forgive you for this,” she spat, locking eyes with Nico one last time.

His expression faltered for just a second before he looked away.

And Isla was pulled into the darkness, toward a future she would fight tooth and nail to escape.

Leonardo exhaled, his patience wearing thin. “Then fight. But it will not change your fate.”

Her stomach twisted. The realization hit her like a bullet to the chest—there was no escape. No bargaining, no mercy. Her father had made his choice, and she was nothing more than collateral damage in his war.

The men started dragging her toward the door, her heels scraping against the hardwood floor. Isla thrashed, her heart pounding in her ears, the sheer force of her rage barely contained. “I will never forgive you for this,” she spat, locking eyes with her father one last time.

For the first time, something flickered in his gaze—regret? Guilt? But it was gone as fast as it came. He turned away.

And Isla was pulled into the darkness, toward a future she would fight tooth and nail to escape.

****

The black SUV waiting outside was sleek, polished, a vehicle meant for transport but also intimidation. The back door was thrown open, and Isla was shoved inside, landing hard against the leather seats.

The doors locked with a heavy click, trapping her inside.

Breathing heavily, she twisted around, her gaze landing on the man sitting across from her.

He was darkness and control, his presence an unshakable force that sucked the air from the space between us. Matteo DeLuca. His dark eyes studied her with an unreadable expression, his posture relaxed yet radiating lethal energy.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Matteo tilted his head. "You fight too much."

Isla’s pulse slammed against her throat. "And you kill too easily."

A ghost of a smirk played at his lips, but there was nothing amusing about it. "That is why we are here."

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to sit straighter, to meet his gaze without flinching. "If you think I’m going to be your obedient wife, you’re mistaken."

Matteo reached for a glass of whiskey resting beside him, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously soft. "Obedience was never what I wanted from you, Isla."

Something cold slid down her spine. "Then what do you want?"

He leaned forward, his presence suffocating, his eyes locking onto hers like he could see every defiant thought racing through her mind. "To win."

The car rolled forward, taking her away from the only world she had ever known.

Away from her freedom.

Away from everything except him.