★★Leon's POV★★



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I was fuming.

I had never wanted to kill someone as badly as I wanted to kill her right now. Every muscle in my body was tight with the urge to pull the trigger, to end her pathetic existence in one clean shot. She had messed with the wrong person, and I could feel the rage coursing through me, every heartbeat a reminder of how much I wanted to put her down like an animal.

But something stopped me.

A part of me—something darker, more twisted—whispered that a quick death wouldn't be enough for her. No, she needed to feel it. She needed to understand the consequences of crossing me. The slow unraveling of her life would be so much sweeter.

I took a breath, steadying myself. I could do this.

Without hesitation, I fired.

BANG.

The deafening sound ripped through the air, the bullet tearing into the floor, the smoke and gunpowder filling the space between us. I watched her flinch, her whole body jerking at the sound, but she didn't break. Not yet. She was still trying to hold it together, and I could see the fear flashing in her eyes. It wasn't the same defiance from before—no, it was raw, real fear. She was trembling, though she did her best to hide it.

I took a step forward, watching her closely. Her body was shaking from the cold, but there was something else there. Something deeper. Her fear. The realization that this could be it. The end of her life. She had to know by now that I was willing to kill her, to put an end to everything she had.

I moved closer, my eyes never leaving her. She didn't say anything. Of course not. She was trying to stay strong. But I could see the cracks in her façade. The moment she thought she was going to die, the moment the fear set in—it was beautiful, in a twisted way.

"You think you're invincible, don't you?" I said, my voice low, dripping with venom.

Her lip curled in that familiar, defiant way. "Don't flatter yourself," she shot back, her voice shaky but still full of that damn pride. "You think you're the first person to try to intimidate me?"

I shook my head, a grim smile tugging at my lips. "You're not untouchable, Mariella. Not anymore. You're playing a game, but you don't realize how much you've already lost. You should've stayed out of my way."

I leaned in, my voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "I could end you right here, right now. One bullet and it's over. But that's too easy. That's not how this ends. Not for you."

I watched her closely. She was still trembling, though she kept trying to cover it with that bravado. But I could see it now—the realization. She knew she was out of her depth. She was too far gone.

I stepped back, keeping my gaze locked on her. "You're going to understand the consequences of your actions, Mariella. Slowly. I'm not going to give you a quick death. I'm going to make sure you remember every second of it."

Her eyes widened just a fraction, but she didn't speak. The silence stretched between us, heavy with the weight of everything I'd just said.

"You think this is a joke?" I leaned in again, closer this time, my breath hot against her ear. "You think you're some untouchable princess? You think I won't kill you just because you think you're special? No, you're not special. You're just a pawn in a game you never understood."

Her breathing quickened, her body stiffening as I leaned down, keeping my face just inches from hers.

"You had the chance to walk away, but you didn't. And now," I said, "you're going to feel what happens when you fuck with the wrong person."

I pulled back, studying her face. She was scared, no matter how much she tried to hide it. And that—that—was the moment I'd been waiting for.

The game was just beginning.

I stared into her piercing blue eyes, and for a moment, I felt something in my chest tighten—a memory creeping up like smoke, slithering through my mind. The night at the club. The lady in red.

That damn woman.

I remembered the way she had moved, the confidence that radiated from her like a force of nature. How she'd gotten close to me, her scent clinging to my skin, the soft curve of her waist as I had my hands on her. The way she'd slipped her arm around me, pulling me into her like we were both meant to burn in that moment.

And the way her eyes—those same piercing, unforgiving eyes—had looked into mine. No fear. No hesitation. Only that challenge. That fire that made me want to rip her apart and devour her all at once.

I could still taste her on my lips, feel the tension of her body when I held her too close. I remembered how she had gotten me in a chokehold a week ago, the fight between us—how it had felt like she was a part of me, just as much as I wanted to break her. How, for just a second, I couldn't deny the magnetic pull between us.

But the thought didn't last long.

The weight of the memory quickly disappeared, and the hate, the fury, the rage—those dark, insatiable feelings—came crashing back.

I hated her.

I hated that she was living rent-free in my head, that she could make me feel things I wasn't supposed to feel. That she had the audacity to even challenge me, to stand in front of me and not break.

I clenched my fists, feeling the knuckles strain under the pressure.

She wasn't going to control me. She wasn't going to make me weak.

"You're nothing more than a damn headache," I muttered under my breath, pushing the memory out of my mind with force. I looked at her again, that fire still flickering in her eyes, but now it felt like a flame I was going to snuff out.

I didn't need her living in my head.

I was going to end this.

The loud knock cut through the tension like a knife, snapping me out of my thoughts. I clenched my jaw, anger flaring inside me like wildfire. "Quoi. (What.)" I hissed, my voice low and seething. Whoever had the audacity to interrupt me was about to wish they'd never been born.

The door creaked open, and Damien and Antonio stepped inside. They paused for a moment, taking in the scene—Mariella, drenched in ice-cold water, her hair plastered to her face, shivering but still burning with defiance. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Damien smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement as he surveyed the situation. "Well, well, looks like someone's pissed her off real good," he said, his tone full of mocking admiration.

Antonio chuckled, his loud, boisterous laugh filling the room. He leaned forward, clearly enjoying the sight of her, yet making no effort to hide his amusement. "Did you fall in? Or did he just throw you in for fun?" he teased, his grin wide, showing no respect for the situation.

But Mariella didn't bite—she just scoffed, turning her face away with a flick of her hair, her body taut with silent defiance. She sat there like a cornered animal, eyes narrowed, unwilling to show any weakness.

I glared at Damien, my patience already at its breaking point. "Did you come here to gawk, or do you actually have something useful to say?" I growled, each word heavy with a warning.

Damien straightened, the smirk fading into something more serious. "There's a problem, Leon," he said quietly, stepping closer, his voice dropping in urgency. "We've got intel from the Italians. They want her released... or they said if we don't, it's our blood they'll spill."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My fingers clenched into fists at my sides. Anger simmered just below the surface, a fire that threatened to explode. I clenched my jaw, fighting the rage that coursed through my veins.

"And?" I snapped, my voice dripping with impatience.

Damien's voice dropped even further. "They're saying it's not just a demand. It's a warning." He looked at me carefully, as if trying to gauge my reaction. "You don't want to ignore this, Leon. The Italians don't just throw threats around. They mean business."

The weight of his words settled on my chest like a boulder. But before I could respond, I heard it—a soft chuckle, mocking and full of disdain. I looked toward Mariella. Her head was lowered, but her lips curled into a smile that could freeze a man's blood.

She slowly lifted her gaze, meeting my eyes with a look of pure contempt. "You really are that dumb, huh?" she said, her voice cold and cutting. "It's kind of funny, actually. You guys have no idea who you're dealing with."

I froze, her words hitting me like a slap to the face. I could see the challenge in her eyes, the fire that burned behind her gaze. The look she was giving me made it clear—she wasn't afraid. If anything, she was daring me to do my worst.

"Go on," I said, my tone low and controlled, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Tell me. Who am I dealing with?"

Her eyes locked onto mine, no hesitation, no fear—just icy defiance. "I'm Mariella De Angelis," she said, her voice sharp with venom. "Princess of the Italian mafia. And you've just fucked with the wrong bitch, stronzo."

Her words echoed in my head, rattling through my skull. The Italian mafia. Her bloodline. That alone made me pause. The weight of it sank in—this was bigger than I'd realized. But it didn't matter. She was mine now.

I couldn't help but chuckle darkly, the sound escaping from my lips like a rasp. I leaned forward, my face only inches from hers, and lightly patted her cheek with the back of my hand. The delicate touch sent a shiver through her body, and she jerked her head away from me, but I didn't stop. I pressed on, the struggle in her movements only fueling my amusement.

"Wow. Quite the presentation," I said, standing back up and looking down at her. "But now let's see what Daddy has to say about all this." I grinned at the thought. The Italian mafia's powerful connections were one thing, but facing them head-on? That was another challenge entirely.

But just before I turned to leave, I paused and glanced over my shoulder, savoring her defiance. "But for now, get some rest," I said, my voice hard. "You've earned it."

Her eyes flashed with anger, and she yanked at the chains, her desperate movements only proving how much she hated being trapped. She was a wild animal, but she wasn't getting away. Not yet.

I turned to Damien with a nod, signaling for him to take control. He stepped forward, and as he moved to carry out my orders, I felt the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

I walked toward the door, not looking back, but I could still feel her burning gaze on my back. Her hatred was palpable, and it only made the game more interesting.

The Italians wanted her. They wanted her released. They were about to find out just how deep this game went. And I would make sure they knew—no one walked away from me unscathed.

Let the games begin.

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Their chemistry is just so...ughhh

*Favorite music?*

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡