CHAPTER 1
Ariana's POV
“Eat the fuck up!” he barked.
I flinched, my whole body jerking from the roar. My eyes shot left — one of the guards was standing by the bed, a plate in one hand, a glass of water in the other. His expression was cold, the kind of blank that comes from years of obeying orders without thinking.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. My eyes stayed on the water. That was the only thing in the room that looked remotely safe.
Another day had passed. Nothing had changed. Nothing ever did. I’d stopped counting the days a long time ago — it had been five years, maybe more. Five years locked in this room. His room. Our room. The walls were mine as much as they were my prison.
I wasn’t allowed to leave without permission.
And if I ever thought about running, I remembered exactly what he was capable of.
I’d imagined killing him a thousand times — sneaking up while he slept, wrapping my hands around his throat until he stopped moving — but I never did it.
I didn’t have the courage. If I failed, I’d be dead before I could blink.
Whenever he came in, the air changed. He filled the room with his presence — sharp, commanding, dangerous. I always tried to stay quiet, to fade into the background, but it never worked. He saw everything. He liked watching me squirm. He liked reminding me of what he’d done, what he could do again.
The guard moved closer, circling the bed like a dog marking territory. I froze as he leaned over, shoved the glass toward me. I took it with shaking hands. The plate hit the wooden table beside me with a loud clatter that made me flinch again.
“I want everything eaten on this plate. If it’s not, ya klyanus’ bogom, ya ub’yu tebya sam!” he muttered in a thick, foreign accent, the words heavy and ugly. I didn’t understand what he said, but I knew enough to know it wasn’t friendly. His tone said don’t test me.
He rubbed his chin, glaring down at me like I was wasting his time. I moved slow — too slow, apparently — but I didn’t care. None of them scared me the way he did. Not anymore.
I reached for the plate, hands trembling. Every small movement hurt — my arms, my ribs, my back. I bit my tongue and tried to ignore it. On the plate sat a sandwich, a yogurt, and a few slices of fruit. It looked disgusting. I had no appetite.
I was just about to pick up the sandwich when the door swung open.
And there he was.
Nicola Luciano.
The man I was forced to call my fiancé. The man I hated more than anything else on this earth.
He leaned on the doorframe like he owned the air in the room, arms folded, eyes full of that same smug, twisted satisfaction. The look alone made my stomach turn.
Nicola Luciano — my father’s handpicked replacement for the man he’d murdered.
After Alessandro’s death, my father introduced Nicola as my fiancé. “In no time,” he said, “Nicola shall be properly betrothed to my Ariana.”
Those words still lived in my head like a curse. I didn’t get to say no. I didn’t get to say anything.
At first, I thought Nicola was different.
He’d spoken softly, smiled like a gentleman.
But that was just the mask. Underneath it, he was worse than my father — cruel in ways that left no marks but never let you heal.
I’d been promised to him since I was thirteen.
I didn’t even know it until it was too late.
Now, he was standing there in front of me — white shirt splattered with fresh blood. His sleeves rolled up, gun still in his hand.
I froze. My breath caught.
Tears pricked my eyes before I could stop them. I didn’t need to ask whose blood it was. I already knew. Nicola didn’t kill for money or power anymore. He killed because he could. Because he liked it. Because it reminded me who owned me.
He’d make me watch sometimes — people begging, bleeding, dying — and he’d whisper in my ear, asking if I still thought I could leave him. I’d throw up for days after, but he didn’t care.
Today was different, though. I wasn’t in the basement. No screaming. No bodies. Not yet.
“What’s going on in here?” Nicola’s tone was calm, almost casual, but it made my stomach twist.
“I brought her food,” the guard answered quickly. “But if you’d prefer, I can take it back down. You can eat with her instead.”
Nicola’s eyes slid to him, and the guard lowered his head instantly. For a second, I thought Nicola might shoot him right there. He’d done it before — no warning, no reason. Just blood. I didn’t want to see that again.
Nicola stepped closer, resting a heavy hand on the guard’s shoulder. “Voz’mi yeye yedu vniz, ya khochu, chtoby ona yela so mnoy,” he said in that same sharp Russian-accented tone he used when he wanted obedience.
The man nodded quickly, grabbed the plate from me, and left the room without looking back.
Now it was just us.
Nicola turned to me, wiping the blood from his shirt with the back of his hand, pretending to care because he knew I hated seeing it. He smiled, slow and deliberate.
“Don’t look so nervous, sweetheart,” he said, voice low, condescending. “You know I hate it when you shake like that.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. My body trembled anyway. I knew the rules — stay quiet, stay calm, don’t make him angry. Anything else meant pain.
And I’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
“How are you feeling, detka?” he asked, shutting the door behind him.
I looked up as he turned and came toward me. I forced a weak smile.
“I’m fine,” I whispered. “It was just a cold.”
I curled up against the headboard, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. The bed dipped when he sat down, and I flinched when his hand touched my head.
I was cold—bone cold. The fever from yesterday hadn’t left. I needed someone to take care of me, but Nicola wouldn’t let anyone near. I “didn’t deserve it,” he said. Whatever the hell that meant.
I pulled my legs in tighter, covering the bit of skin my trousers didn’t hide. My clothes were plain—white long-sleeve top, cotton pants—but even that felt like too much for him to stare at.
When I looked up, I caught him watching me like he owned me. I shivered and looked away, shutting my eyes.
“Come downstairs,” he said. “Dinner’s ready. Just you and me.”
“I don’t want to eat,” I muttered. “I feel sick already. Eating’ll make it worse.”
“What?”
That tone made my ears burn. I stared down at the space between my feet, stomach dropping. I knew that voice too well. It was the one that came right before he lost control.
I lifted my head. His face had changed—jaw locked, teeth clenched, eyes cold. He looked at me like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. His hand tightened around the gun he’d been holding since earlier; his knuckles went white.
“What did you say?” he barked, louder this time.
My breath hitched. My whole body went still. He was the kind of angry that ended with someone bleeding. I could see it in the way his jaw twitched, the way he started breathing heavier, the way that weapon became an extension of his hand.
He began to clench his teeth and tighten his grip around the gun he was holding from earlier. I was clearly able to tell because his knuckles turned white.
"What did you say?" He bellowed and it intimidated me, my stomach hurt from the bundle of nerves that gathered.
I was genuinely fearing for my life because when Nicola was angry, I knew that I would be dead at the end of the day.
When I didn't answer him, Nicola began to load his gun.
Once he did, he cocked the gun and then unexpectedly shoved it down my crotch.
I gasped and snapped my leg closed at the spontaneous contact however, his hand was placed on my knees to keep my legs wide open.
I squirmed when my gaze traveled between my legs, I was frightened for my life when I felt my heart just hammering violently against my chest that it began to hurt.
"I said, what did you say Ariana?" He repeated himself but this time, the tone of his voice lowered more as his gaze turned into a glare.
"I-I don't wa-want to eat, A-Nicola." I stuttered when as I began to move against the gun.
The tip of his gun rubbed my opening very harshly through the fabric of my clothes and it hurt so much that I cried out in pain.
My lips broke out a cry as I watch him with a desperate look of plead to just let me go.
My eyes welled up from the excruciating pain between my legs but all he did was pressed harder and glare at me.
Nicola kept his firm grip on that gun as he scooted closer to me, his face was inches away from mine as his eyes bounced between mine with a glare stirring with passion of hate.
His other hand travelled to my face to caresses it but all I did was whimper as beads of sweat rolled down my head.
I inhaled as I focus on the pain, but it hurt so much I couldn't take it anymore so I pushed him away, it was a natural instinct to do which I deeply regret.
Nicola was shoved away from me harshly when finally, his gun was away.
I closed my legs and whimpered in pain as I curl away from him again, however he did not stop there.
I heard him chuckle when he scooted himself closer to me again.
His hands traveled to my face again before the other one grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head down so I was facing him.
"What was that Ariana?" He growled as he caresses my face with this tip of his gun, "What did I tell you about refusal? Did I not teach you well or did you not listen at all?"
My lips quivered as I look at him with a terrified expression, my stomach swivels as I gulp down the growing fear. Even if I wanted to, I could never stand up to him.