Chapter 2: The Rules of Survival
760 Words
"You’ll sleep in my bed tonight."
The words dropped like a dagger between them.
Elena jerked her head up. "Excuse me?"
Dante didn’t blink. He loosened the top button of his dress shirt and turned his back on her like he’d just told her the weather forecast. "No one will believe a marriage where the bride sleeps down the hall."
"This is a business arrangement," she snapped, stepping forward, fists clenched. "You said so yourself."
He paused at the doorway, his back a wall of silent threat. "And business arrangements require commitment. "You’ll sleep in my bed, or I’ll personally deliver Rafael back to the people who want him dead."
Elena's heart thundered. She hated him. She hated how cold he was. But she hated the idea of her brother bleeding in some alley far more. So she nodded. One stiff, broken movement. "Fine."
Dante's expression didn’t change. He didn’t smile. Didn’t soften. I just turned and walked out of the room.
The Moretti estate wasn’t just a home—it was a kingdom.
As morning broke, Elena found herself in a silent, cavernous dining room seated across from an army of servants, pretending she wasn’t there. The omelet on her plate looked untouched. Her stomach was a knot of dread.
A woman with slick black hair and cold eyes entered the room, her heels tapping like bullets on marble.
"You’re late," she said, not bothering to introduce herself.
"Late for what?"
"Lesson one," the woman replied. "You’re the wife of a king." You don’t ask questions. You follow the rules."
Before Elena could snap back, the woman threw a thick envelope on the table.
Inside: photos, names, family trees, and more bloodlines than a royal palace.
"This is everyone you must memorize. Dante’s allies, enemies, former lovers, business partners, and those who’d slit your throat for breathing."
Elena lifted one photo. A striking woman with red lips and diamond eyes.
"Isabella De Luca," the woman said. "She thinks you stole her crown."
"I don’t want the crown."
"She doesn’t care. She’ll try to kill you anyway."
Later that day, Dante returned.
She stood when he walked into the private sitting room as her body responded to him before her brain could.
He scanned her, head to toe, in that unreadable way. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
"More like a hundred murderers," she muttered.
He poured a glass of scotch, took a slow sip, then handed it to her.
"Drink. You’ll need it. Tonight’s your first public appearance."
She froze. "Tonight? Already?"
He leaned in, placing a hand on the arm of her chair, his voice low. "You’ll walk beside me, smile like you love me, and look like you belong to me. Every person in that room will be trying to figure out what you are: pawn or queen. Don’t give them the answer."
Elena swallowed the drink in one burning gulp.
That night, the ballroom glittered with danger.
Dante’s hand rested possessively on the small of Elena’s back as they descended the marble staircase. Eyes followed them like heat-seeking missiles. Every step she took in her silk dress felt like she was walking a tightrope.
At the center of the room stood Isabella.
She raised a glass, smiled like a snake, and said, "So this is the wife. How… adorable."
Elena held her gaze. "And you must be the ex. How… persistent."
The room stilled.
Dante's lips curved ever so slightly. Pride—or amusement?
Isabella leaned in, her voice like venom. "Let’s hope your acting skills are better than your fashion sense, darling. This world chews up girls like you."
"Then I guess I’ll learn to bite back."
Three hours later, Elena collapsed in the back of Dante’s car, exhausted.
"You didn’t completely embarrass me," he said.
"Thanks for the compliment. Really."
He chuckled under his breath.
They were halfway back to the estate when the car lurched to a stop. The driver swore.
"What happened?" Elena asked.
Before anyone could answer, the front windshield shattered.
Gunfire.
Dante shoved her down onto the floor, shielding her with his body as bullets tore through the car.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.
Then Dante pulled his gun and growled, "Stay down. Don’t move until I come back."
She grabbed his wrist. "What are you doing?"
He looked down at her—eyes wild, full of war.
"Ending this."
And then he was gone.
➡ Next: chapter. Elena is left alone in the blood-soaked wreckage. But someone else is waiting in the dark… and it’s not Dante.
- Writer
