His Banished Luna

EMMALINE I never thought my life would be over at the age of twenty-two. But here I am, just minutes away from marrying a man who is feared across continents. A mafia king. An Alpha who built his empire with blood and bone. And now… he’s taking me. I’m not being dramatic, in fact, I wish I were. But the truth is, I’m about to marry a monster. A beast. A man who kills without blinking and doesn’t know the meaning of mercy. Dante Mancini. The name alone makes my skin crawl. I sit in front of a huge mirror, staring at the woman I no longer recognize. A woman in a white couture gown, whose make-up is flawless, so expertly applied it looks like she has nothing on other than the soft pink gloss on her lips. Her hair styled to perfection is in an elaborate hair-do with wisps caressing her face. She looks elegant. Beautiful. But her eyes are empty. Dead. The dress is stunning, custom-made to fit me like a second skin. Yet, I never saw it before today. Never tried it on. Never chose it. It simply appeared, like everything else, as if I am nothing more than a doll being dressed for display. A team of strangers stormed into this suite hours ago, speaking a language I didn’t understand, giving orders in English when necessary. Sit up straight. Turn. Suck it in. Not once did they ask what I wanted. Not once did they acknowledge me as a person. Because what I want does not matter. Not anymore. I look like a fairytale princess, except that this is not a fairytale. This is a nightmare. A muscle jumps in my jaw as my brother paces behind me, his reflection flickering in and out of the mirror like a pendulum. He is dressed in black, a fitting color for what this day truly is– my funeral. “Do something, Luca,” my sister-in-law, Isabelle, hisses. “Anything but this. Find another way to pay off the debt. Work it off. Borrow the money. Do something! What will people think when she marries him?” Luca stops pacing, his face twisted with frustration and something that might be guilt. Then he roars, the sound shaking the walls. “You think I have a choice? I f*****g don’t! We’d be dead right now if I hadn’t given in to his demand. Dead, Isabelle. All of us!” Dead. And the worst part is I believe him. Isabelle flinches. “Damn you. I told you to stay away from the Mancinis! You knew they were dangerous, but you still—” she chokes on a sob. “You gave your own sister to a monster.” I swallow against the bile rising in my throat. Five days ago, Luca sat Isabelle and me down and told us the truth. He told us about how was in deep. Owed money to the worst man imaginable. And now, since he couldn’t pay, I would be the one to suffer. Dante Mancini does not forgive debts, but he does take payments in the form of people. And in this case, I was the price. I fought. I begged. And when it finally sunk in that there was no way I’d get out of this, I wept enough to shame a widow who’d buried a lifetime of love and loss. It was a done deal. They took us from our home, locked us in this luxury prison, and watched our every move. There was no escape. There was no hope. And now, today, I walk down the aisle. Not because I want to. But because if I don’t, my entire family will die. And Luca is the only family I have left. The only one I’ve had since our parents’ deaths five years ago. “Emmaline.” Luca’s voice pulls me out of my melancholic train of thoughts. His voice is softer now, desperate. He grips my arm and turns me toward him. His green eyes are filled with regret, but I don’t care. I won’t let myself care. He did this to us. “I’m going to fix this,” he promises. “Just get through today, and I’ll talk to Dante. I’ll find another way to pay him. I’ll get you back.” I laugh, but there is no humor in the sound. “Get me back?” I whisper, yanking my arm free. “You sold me, Luca. Do you think he’s just going to let me go?” His face pales. He knows the answer. I step closer, lowering my voice so the guards outside won’t hear. “I will never get out of this. I will never be free. I will never be the same. And it’s your fault.” Isabelle whimpers into her tissue, while Luca looks like he might vomit. Good. A sharp knock on the door cuts through the thick silence, and my heart slams against my ribs. It’s time. The door swings open, revealing a tall man in a tailored suit who I’ve come to know as Dante’s second in command Marco. He is broad-shouldered, intimidating, his expression unreadable. His presence fills the room with suffocating authority. He doesn’t attempt to exchange pleasantries, nor bother to offer any fake kindness. Instead, he says, “Two cars are waiting outside. Dante won’t be happy if we’re late.” My stomach drops. That is all kinds of bad. Luca clenches his fists. “Wait,” he blurts. “Will she see us after the wedding?” Marco doesn’t even hesitate. “No. She will be taken straight to Dante’s home.” Ice crawls up my spine. No goodbyes. No last moments. This is it. Suddenly I’m unable to breathe. Marco steps forward, gripping my elbow like I might run. “Let’s go.” I have no choice but to move. Isabelle wipes her tears. “There has to be something we can do. There has to be.” I don’t answer, because we both know the truth. There isn’t. As we step outside, sunlight slaps my face. The sky is clear. The ocean stretches beyond the cliffs, endless and free. But I will never be free again. Marco’s grip tightens, guiding me toward two sleek black SUVs. A funeral procession, just for me. The back door opens. I hesitate, glancing back one last time at Luca and Isabelle. They look broken, guilty, helpless. I want to scream. I want to run. But there is no escape. Marco shoves me inside, and the cold air blasting from the vents, immediately makes my skin prickle. The door slams shut, locking me in. A driver sits behind the wheel, his expression unreadable. Another guard sits beside him. Both are dressed in black. Like everyone else today. Everyone but me. I stare down at my gown. Pure white. A symbol of Innocence. But I am not innocent, at least not anymore. The engine rumbles to life and pulls away. And I am on my way to hell.