Claimed by the Hellbound Rider

Behind Closed Doors

Elena POV

My stomach dropped so fast it hurt. No. I had to be misunderstanding this. Luca couldn’t possibly be talking about assassinating the Attorney General like he was discussing business over dinner.

I knew who he was. God, I wasn’t naïve. You didn’t grow up in New York without hearing stories about the Mancinis. Their name carried too much weight, too much fear, for anyone to pretend otherwise. Men disappeared. Rival businesses folded overnight. Politicians suddenly changed their positions after private meetings no one could prove had happened.

I knew there was blood attached to the Mancini empire.

But knowing something in theory and hearing it in Luca’s voice were two entirely different things.

This was my Luca.

The man who brought me coffee in bed on Sunday mornings because I hated getting up early. The man who remembered exactly how I liked my champagne and kissed me like I was precious. The man who’d held me on the dance floor less than twenty minutes ago like I was the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

My pulse thundered in my ears as the voices continued beyond the vent.

“Getting to the AG won’t be easy,” a deep voice said. I didn't recognize the speaker, but there was something unmistakable about the slow Southern drawl—too rough, too deliberate compared to the polished voices filling the room.

“We have people close enough to make it manageable,” Luca replied smoothly. Calmly. “And if he cooperates, none of this becomes necessary.”

Necessary. The word scraped against my nerves.

“As long as he understands what’s expected of him,” another man said, his nasal tone immediately recognizable as Marco Vitale, one of Luca’s most trusted men. “If he refuses…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. The implication was clear.

My knees weakened enough that I had to brace a hand against the wall to steady myself. The plush robe suddenly felt suffocating, too warm against my skin. I pressed my other hand over my mouth, terrified they’d somehow hear my breathing through the vent.

I should leave. I should walk away right now before I heard something I couldn’t come back from.

But I couldn't move.

“Regardless of what happens with the Attorney General, I want this handled before the wedding,” Luca said. “I’m not interested in unnecessary complications interfering with that.”

Something twisted painfully in my chest. A small, horrible part of me warmed at the thought that he cared that much about our future. About me.

God. What was wrong with me?

My fiancé was calmly discussing murder, and I was touched that he wanted our wedding protected from scandal.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, nausea rolling through me.

“I need Elena secured to me before Alessa pushes too far,” Luca continued. Irritation edged his voice now, sharper than before. “I’m done dealing with this little rivalry she’s invented in her head.”

The words hit strangely after everything else. Not softer exactly. But personal. Intimate. Like despite the horrifying conversation happening around him, part of Luca’s attention was still fixed on me.

Marco laughed quietly. “You should’ve married Elena six months ago. Alessa would've gotten the message by now.”

“She already has the message,” Luca said coldly. “She just doesn’t like it.”

A strange flutter moved through my chest before horror crushed it almost immediately afterward.

I shouldn’t be reacting like this. I shouldn’t still feel relief hearing him defend me.

But I did.

Because no matter what I was hearing through that vent…I still loved him.

"It's not just about Alessa, son. She'll learn her place as mistress soon enough." Giovanni. Luca's father. There was no mistaking the gritty voice that signaled too many cigars and long nights.

My brain snagged on a single word. Mistress?

The word echoed in my head, refusing to make sense.

Alessa had always hovered too close. Too confident. Too comfortable touching Luca whenever she thought she could get away with it.

I’d written it off because Luca always shut her down. He always came home to me. He looked at me like I was the only woman in the world that mattered.

But suddenly, every whispered comment and lingering glance felt different. Sharper.

Had everyone else seen something I hadn’t?

Heat crawled up my neck as memories surfaced one after another. Nights Luca came home late and distracted. Calls he’d stepped outside to take. The occasional tension in a room whenever Alessa appeared.

I’d trusted him so completely that I never questioned any of it. And now I didn’t know if that made me loyal…or just stupid.

"You need Elena to be your wife so she can't be forced to testify against you. And you need to have the respectability of being married before you take on the mantle of Don."

My heart was still racing over Giovanni's casual comment about Alessa being Luca's mistress. Luca never seemed less than devoted to me. He always picked up when I called, always made me his priority. How many times had he answered my calls with her in his bed?

"Elena would never testify against me, Father. She loves me. As for Alessa, that's been over. I won't risk that snake in my home."

As quickly as it had knotted up, the awful tension released. Some horrible, traitorous part of me relaxed at hearing he shut her down. Like his loyalty to me somehow erased everything else I’d heard tonight.

"Good, good. But you need a plan, Luca. If something goes wrong, and one of those agents gets to Elena before you're wed, what are you going to do? You know they're sniffing around. We found the rat, but he'd already passed too much information on. Right now, Elena's our weakest link."

The words slammed into me harder than everything else combined. Weakest link. Not Elena. He didn't call me his son's fiancée or the woman Luca claimed to love. Just labeled me a vulnerability. A risk.

My stomach twisted violently as cold crept through my limbs. I pressed myself tighter against the wall, terrified my legs were about to give out completely.

Until this moment, some desperate part of me had still believed I was separate from all of this. That Luca existed in two worlds somehow—the man who loved me and the man sitting in that room.

But Giovanni’s words shattered that illusion with brutal efficiency. To them, I wasn’t outside the Mancini empire. I was simply another piece connected to it.

There was a loud click, as if someone had slammed a glass onto a table. "They won't get to her. There's nothing to worry about," Luca said tightly.

"Not good enough." Even through the vent, the tension sharpened.

Silence settled heavily on the other side of the vent. I swore my heartbeat was loud enough to carry through it. It stretched long enough that hope began creeping back in before I could stop it.

Say something. Tell your father no. Tell them I’m not disposable.

My chest tightened painfully as I stared at the wall in front of me, every nerve in my body straining toward Luca’s answer.

This was the moment that mattered.

Because no matter what I’d heard tonight, no matter how shaken I was, part of me still believed in him. Still believed the man who held me on the dance floor wouldn’t let them hurt me. Wouldn’t hurt me himself.

I held my breath and waited for him to deny it.

"If they get to her, and she gives them anything, I'll kill her myself."