Episode2
1823 Words
THE WARNING
The explosion ripped through the night like the sky itself had cracked open.
Aria’s ears rang. The floor trembled beneath her feet. Smoke seeped under the study door as shouts erupted through the mansion. Gunfire cracked in rapid, vicious bursts—close, too close.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Damiano didn’t flinch.
While Aria staggered backward, he turned toward the door with the calm precision of a man who had walked through hell and learned to breathe there. His grip tightened around her wrist, steady and unyielding.
“Behind me,” he repeated, voice low but edged with steel. “Now.”
Aria didn’t argue. She couldn’t. Fear had turned her bones to water. She moved behind him instinctively, her trembling fingers clutching the back of his suit jacket.
The door burst open before she could breathe.
Three guards stormed inside, their guns drawn. Rain-soaked, blood-spattered, panting.
“Boss!” the first guard said, urgency cracking his voice. “We’re under attack. They breached the north gate—two SUVs, heavily armed. Looks like—”
He didn’t finish.
Damiano’s eyes narrowed. “Morozov?”
The guard swallowed hard. “Most likely, sir.”
A cold ripple of dread shot down Aria’s spine. She didn’t know who Morozov was, but the fear etched into the guard’s face told her everything she needed.
A rival. A deadly one.
Damiano’s jaw tightened, the muscles ticking like a warning signal beneath his skin. “Secure the perimeter. Keep them away from this wing.”
“Yes, sir!”
The guards bolted out.
Damiano turned to Aria.
The flames from the fireplace reflected in his dark eyes, making them look almost inhuman—predatory, calculating, focused.
Aria’s breath came in quick, shallow bursts. “Wh-what’s happening? W-why—”
He cupped her face suddenly, firmly, forcing her to look at him. “Aria. Listen to me.”
Her lips parted, trembling.
“You do not move unless I move,” he said, each word deliberate and sharp. “You stay behind me. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to crawl, you crawl. Understand?”
She nodded, gasping. “Y-yes.”
He released her and stepped forward.
The study shook again as another explosion rocked the mansion. Bits of plaster rained from the ceiling. Aria covered her head instinctively, her body folding in on itself.
Damiano grabbed her arm, pulling her upright. “Move.”
The hallway outside was chaos—shouted commands, echoing gunfire, the distant metallic screech of something collapsing. Smoke rolled through the air, mixing with the scent of gun oil and burning wood.
Aria clung to Damiano’s arm as he guided her swiftly down the hall. His stride was powerful and confident, like he’d walked through ambushes his entire life.
“This is because of me,” she whispered, guilt slashing through her. “Someone’s after me. You said—”
“This is not about you.” His voice cut through her panic. “This is about them testing me.”
“Testing… you?”
“They heard about the contract.” He didn’t slow. “And they smell an opportunity.”
Her stomach twisted. “Because I’m your… bride?”
His jaw flexed. “Because they think tonight makes me vulnerable.”
Aria looked around—soldiers, gunfire, smoke. Vulnerable was the last word she’d use to describe him.
But she didn’t have time to say it.
A gunshot cracked from the opposite end of the corridor. The bullet shattered a lamp near Aria’s head. She screamed as glass exploded around her.
Damiano spun, shielding her with his entire body. She felt his arm wrap around her waist, iron-strong, pulling her against him as he drew a gun from his holster.
Three masked men rushed from the smoke.
Damiano fired.
One shot. Two. Three.
All three men hit the ground before they could get a shot off.
Aria stared at the bodies, shock turning her blood to ice. She wasn’t used to gunfire or death or violence. She wasn’t used to mafia wars or blood oaths or being dragged through deadly hallways by a man who killed without blinking.
Her life had changed in twenty minutes.
Damiano grabbed her chin, forcing her eyes away from the bodies. “Don’t look. Focus on me.”
She nodded shakily. “O-okay.”
He dragged her into another hall—this one darker, quieter, lit by emergency lights glowing red along the walls like veins.
“You need to leave this wing,” he said. “Now.”
Her pulse stopped. “Leave? Without you?”
His gaze locked with hers, intense and unyielding. “You’ll go with Matteo. He’ll get you somewhere safe.”
“No!” Her voice cracked. “I’m not leaving you. You just said I had to stay behind you—”
“This is different.” His tone hardened. “Morozov sent more men than expected. If they reach you, they’ll use you against me.”
The words sliced her.
Because of the contract.
Because she now belonged to him.
“A bride is leverage,” he said quietly. “The kind of leverage a man like Morozov would kill for.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes. Not because she feared leaving him—but because everything was happening too fast. Too brutal. Too unreal.
She grabbed his sleeve. “Damiano—”
He stopped.
It was the first time she’d said his name.
His eyes flickered, just for a second.
Then gunfire erupted behind them again.
A group of guards sprinted toward them. “Boss! They breached the east wing! We need you!”
Damiano let out a cold breath. “Matteo!” he barked.
A tall, scar-jawed soldier appeared from the shadows. His expression darkened when he saw Aria.
“You protect her,” Damiano said. “Take her to the safe room. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Matteo nodded sharply. “Yes, boss.”
Aria’s heart hammered. “Wait—no—Damiano—”
He stepped closer, gripping the back of her head with one hand, forcing her to look only at him. His touch was hard, commanding, but strangely grounding.
“I will find you,” he said, voice low and intense. “No matter what happens tonight, I will come for you.”
Her lips trembled. “Please don’t—don’t get hurt.”
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I don’t get hurt.”
His thumb brushed her cheek—not gently, but like a claim.
“You’re mine now.”
Before she could speak, Matteo grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
“Move,” he ordered.
Aria stumbled as Matteo dragged her down the hallway, away from the gunfire, away from the man who had just walked into danger without fear.
She looked over her shoulder.
Damiano was already turning away, gun raised, heading straight into the storm.
Matteo forced her around a corner. “No looking back. Boss wouldn’t want it.”
Aria swallowed the lump in her throat. “Is he going to be okay?”
Matteo snorted. “He’s Damiano Valente.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Matteo didn’t respond.
They reached a steel door hidden behind a decorative panel. Matteo punched a code into the keypad, and the heavy lock clicked open.
Inside was a small but fortified room—concrete walls, emergency lighting, a narrow cot, and a metal desk. It wasn’t luxurious like the rest of the mansion. It was built for survival.
Matteo pushed her inside. “Stay. Don’t touch anything. Don’t open the door for anyone except me or the boss.”
He stepped out to close it—
But something slammed into him.
Hard.
Matteo grunted as a masked attacker tackled him. Aria screamed, stumbling backward as the two men crashed into the doorway.
Matteo fought brutally, throwing punches, blocking blows. But another man appeared behind the attacker—then another.
Three against one.
Matteo was strong, skilled, ruthless—but he was outnumbered.
“No!” Aria cried. “Matteo—!”
“Run!” he roared, blood on his lip. “Close the—ah!”
A knife slashed across his arm.
Aria froze, heart stopping, breath gone.
The masked man closest to her turned.
He saw her.
And smiled beneath his mask.
Aria backed away, her legs shaking uncontrollably.
She grabbed the edge of a metal shelf.
The man lunged.
She screamed—
A gunshot ripped through the air.
The attacker’s body jerked backward.
Matteo had managed to shoot him while pinned beneath the other two.
“Run! Close the door!” Matteo shouted again.
Aria made a split-second decision—
She slammed the heavy steel door shut.
The locks engaged automatically.
Gunshots and shouts echoed from the other side as she pressed her back to the wall, sliding down to the floor, shaking violently.
She hugged her knees to her chest.
The room felt too small. Too cold. Too silent compared to the chaos outside.
Her breath came in shallow gasps.
This wasn’t her world. This wasn’t her life. This shouldn’t be happening.
Tears blurred her vision.
She buried her face in her hands.
What have I done?
What have I married into?
---
Ten agonizing minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Then thirty.
The gunfire faded.
The shouting quieted.
Silence swallowed the mansion.
Aria didn’t know whether silence meant safety—
or death.
Then—
Footsteps.
Heavy. Controlled. Slow.
Approaching the door.
Her breath caught.
A key turned in the lock.
The heavy steel door swung open.
And there he was.
Damiano Valente.
Alive.
Unharmed.
And covered in blood—none of it his.
He stared at her, chest rising and falling with battle-trained breath. Dark hair damp with sweat and rain. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar, bulletproof vest beneath.
His eyes met hers, sharp and burning.
Without a word, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
Aria rose shakily to her feet.
“Damiano…” Her voice broke.
He closed the distance in two strides, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her against him, his hand sliding up to the back of her head.
“You’re safe,” he murmured against her hair. “I t
old you I’d come for you.”
Her breath hitched as she clung to his shirt, her fear collapsing into relief.
He held her tighter.
“Aria,” he said, his voice darkening, “this is your warning.”
She lifted her face slowly, eyes wet.
“As long as you are my bride… the world will come for you.”
He lowered his forehead to hers.
“But I will always come first.”
Her heartbeat stumbled.
Because he didn’t say it like a promise.
He said it like a threat— and a vow.
Both etched in blood.
- Writer
