THE PRICE OF A PACT
2219 Words
THE PRICE OF A PACT
The dawn at the D’Luca mansion brought no clarity; instead, a thick, grayish light filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, illuminating dust particles that floated in the air like the ashes of a war that had spilled too much blood.
I woke with a heaviness in my chest, a phantom anchor reminding me that my world no longer belonged to me—that beneath the sheets, I had negotiated something more than just my body.
I felt the heat of his solid frame against my back. Aaron’s arm crossed my waist with an authority that brooked no protest, his hand resting possessively over my abdomen. I could feel the steady rhythm of his breath against my neck, a terrifying contrast to the man who had entered the room last night covered in the blood of his enemies.
I moved with torturous slowness, trying not to wake the beast. But in this world, men like Aaron D’Luca never truly sleep. His fingers tightened over my skin, digging subtly into my hip.
“Where are you going, Sofia?” His voice was a low, hoarse growl, steeped in a sleep that failed to soften his lethality.
“I need air,” I whispered, though I knew the air in this house was tainted by power and death. “I need to breathe, Aaron.”
He let out a dry laugh, a sound that vibrated against my back and made my skin crawl. He sat up slowly, letting the sheet fall to his waist, revealing the magnificence of a torso scarred by battle. The bandage I had applied the night before was slightly stained with dried crimson—a map of his mortality that he exhibited with almost divine arrogance.
“Does reality suffocate you, or do I?” he asked, forcing me to turn so I would look him in the eye. Those black pits were bloodshot now, but they shone with a predatory lucidity. “You crossed the line last night. Do you remember? Because I do… every detail. Now, Sofia, you can’t pretend the morning sun will erase the taste of iron and sin you accepted on your lips last night.”
I sat up in bed, covering my nakedness with the silk sheet, which felt like mere paper under his gaze. The silence of the mansion was sepulchral—not a peaceful silence, but a heavy one, like the stillness that precedes an earthquake.
“Last night was…” I began to say, but he interrupted with a swift movement, catching my chin between his fingers.
“Don’t say it was a mistake. Don’t insult my intelligence, or yours. Last night was a surrender. You gave in, Sofia. And in my world, the one who surrenders hands over the keys to her kingdom.”
“My kingdom no longer exists! My father took it from me when he sold me to you like a prize mare,” I snapped, brushing his hand away. “Don’t be confused, Aaron. Just because my body reacted to your touch doesn’t mean my soul belongs to you. You are my jailer, and I will keep looking for the way out of this cell, even if it's made of iron.”
Aaron rose from the bed with feline agility.
He pulled on his trousers and paced the room, ignoring his wound, approaching the table where his weapon and phone rested. The daylight accentuated every scar on his back, every mark that told a story of betrayal and survival.
“You look for the exit, yet your feet brought you to my arms last night when the gunfire ceased,” he said without looking at me, checking his phone. “You are a fascinating contradiction, Sofia. You hate the monster, but you need his fire to feel alive.”
Suddenly, his posture shifted. His shoulders tensed, and I saw his jaw tighten until the muscles in his neck stood out like cords. The phone in his hand seemed to become an incandescent object.
“What is it?” I asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.
He didn’t answer. He kept silent. Then he locked the screen and turned toward me. His eyes no longer held a trace of the early morning's passion; they were two blades of cold steel.
“The Morettis don’t know how to die with dignity,” he said with a calm that frightened me more than his shouting. “They think they can send messages from the shadows.
They think you have a price I cannot pay.”
“What do you mean by that?” I stood up, wrapping the sheet around my nakedness and vulnerability. “What did that message say?”
Aaron approached me with slow, deliberate steps. He stopped inches away, invading my personal space, forcing me to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. The scent of expensive soap, tobacco, and that metallic trace from the night before enveloped me again.
“They say the ‘true bride price’ is about to be collected.” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “My father-in-law is a shrewd man, Sofia. He sold me a jewel, but it seems he forgot to mention the debts that came with it.”
“My father wouldn't hide anything from you that put his own skin at risk,” I retorted, though a corrosive doubt began to burn inside me. “He is afraid of you. He wouldn't play with fire.”
“Fear makes people do stupid things, and desperation makes them sign pacts with the devil,” Aaron said, picking up his white shirt from the floor and putting it on with brusque movements. “I’m going out. Franco will stay at the door. If you try to leave this suite, he has orders to return you to the room, one way or another.”
“Are you going after my father?” I followed him to the door, feeling a sudden vacuum. “Aaron, if this is a Moretti trap… my father wouldn’t…”
He stopped at the threshold and turned. For a second, I saw a flicker of something resembling protection in his eyes, but it vanished so quickly I thought I’d imagined it.
“If it’s a trap, I’ll make sure it’s the last one they set. And Sofia…” He stepped closer and planted a violent, possessive kiss on my lips that left me breathless. “Don’t get used to the solitude. Tonight we have to finish what we started. A Don doesn't leave his business—or his woman—half-finished. We’re still on our honeymoon.”
He closed the door behind him, and I heard the click of the lock. The sound of my chains returning to their place.
I sank into an armchair, hugging my legs. The mansion seemed to whisper of danger. The sounds of servants below, the echo of security car engines departing down the main drive… it all felt like a countdown.
Hours passed. Passivity was driving me mad. I went to the bathroom to wash, trying to scrub Aaron’s traces from my skin, but when I looked in the mirror, it only reflected a woman I no longer recognized. My lips were slightly swollen, my gaze feverish. It was someone else looking back at me.
Suddenly, a sound caught my attention.
Beneath the main door of the suite, a small white envelope slid through the crack.
My heart leaped. I approached with caution, thinking it might be another threat. I took it with trembling hands and opened it. There was no name, only a note written in elegant, hurried calligraphy:
"Sofia: Not everything that shines in the Don is steel. There is a passageway behind the library; the way to open it is in the Roman history section. If you want to know what your father really bargained for, and why the Morettis attacked last night, go there now. Aaron has gone to the Moretti country house; you have one hour before he returns and the security cameras reset. Do not trust the silence of this house."
I froze. Who sent this? Bianca, perhaps? Or someone who wanted to use me as a pawn on this bloody chessboard? What was their aim?
Curiosity—that trait my father always said would get me into trouble—triumphed over fear. I put on a simple, dark dress and hid the silver dagger Aaron had given me last night in the fold of my thigh, secured by a lace garter that felt like a macabre joke.
I opened the door carefully. There were traces of cigarette ash on the floor. The hallway was deserted. Something wasn't right. The silence was too perfect, too artificial.
I walked slowly, praying not to be seen. The D’Luca mansion was a labyrinth of secrets, and I was about to enter its bowels.
Reaching a narrow passage, the air felt colder. A mahogany door stood before me. As I opened it, the smell of dampness and old paper wafted out. I entered, my heart pounding in my temples. Using my phone’s flashlight, I illuminated the room. It was a small office, a sort of hidden study.
On a solid wood desk lay a series of documents bearing both my family’s seal and the D’Luca’s. My eyes scanned the pages.
This didn't look like a marriage contract. It was a transfer of properties and smuggling routes that my father had no right to sell. But the worst part was at the end. A clause in fine print, signed by Aaron and my father a month before the wedding:
"In the event that the alliance with the Morettis is sabotaged, the wife (Sofia Valentín) shall serve as a peace guarantee, remaining at the disposal of the Morettis if the blood debt is not canceled within thirty days."
A choked sob escaped me. Aaron hadn't saved me last night out of love, or even possession. He had "protected" me because I was the bargaining chip in a deal he had helped draft himself. I was my father’s life insurance and Aaron’s war guarantee.
“Do you like what you’re reading, little bride?”
The voice came from the shadows behind me. I spun around, drawing the silver dagger.
In the corner of the room, sitting in an old leather armchair, was a man who shouldn't have been there. A man with light eyes and a cynical smile that I knew all too well.
“You?” my voice was barely a whisper of horror.
“Aaron is a collector of beautiful things, Sofia. But he forgets that some jewels carry a curse.”
The man stood up, and my phone light illuminated his face. It was Enzo Moretti. The younger brother of the man who had supposedly tried to kill us last night.
“Your husband is currently burning down one of my properties,” Enzo said, approaching with a dangerous elegance. “But while he plays the destructive Don, I have come to claim my guarantee.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said, raising the dagger.
“Are you sure about that? Didn’t Aaron tell you the best part of the deal? If you don't come with me voluntarily, your father will be dead before nightfall. And believe me, Sofia, Aaron D’Luca won’t lift a finger to save him. He already got what he wanted: your signature on that paper and your body in his bed."
I felt myself falling into an abyss. I looked at the documents on the table and then at Enzo. I was trapped between two monsters. One who burned me with his passion and another who froze me with his pragmatism.
At that moment, the sound of a gunshot echoed from the upper floor of the mansion. Screams began to filter through the passage.
“It seems my brother grew tired of waiting,” Enzo smiled. “You have ten seconds to decide, Sofia. Do you stay with the man who uses you as a human shield, or come with the one who offers your father’s freedom?”
The fire of my passion for Aaron turned into cutting ice. I realized that in this world, mafia brides don’t choose between good and evil. They choose between different types of hell.
“I’ll go,” I said, lowering the dagger. “But if you touch me, Enzo, I swear Aaron D’Luca will be the least of your problems.”
As we exited through the secret passage into the uncertain night, I realized a terrifying truth: I had loved and hated my chains. Now, I had decided to use them to strangle everyone who thought they could put a price on me.
The real danger would begin when Aaron found out they had taken his wife—and that the Morettis had breached his mansion using a trick to deceive him.
- Writer
