Taming the Ruthless

The Sun and the Moon

Chapter 2: The Sun and the Moon

I tried to get up, my body still heavy, and stumbled toward the window. My fingers clung to the frame as I leaned forward to look outside. The house seemed to stand deep within the woods, but the surroundings were strangely airy, almost peaceful. For a moment, I didn’t even feel the fear I thought I should—fear that I might be trapped or damned within this place.

When I looked down at my feet, a gasp escaped me. I thought people might look down on me because of what had happened, but I realized I was wrong. Somehow, I was still lucky—someone had saved me. But the thought struck me: why would he hide his face behind a mask? What could he possibly be afraid of?

As my eyes drifted further, I noticed a figure standing near the cliffside. Based on the outline of his body, I was certain it was him. My breath caught in my throat when I saw his staff dragging away a bloody man. Even from a distance, I could see the victim’s pitiful state—struggling, shouting for help—but no one seemed to hear him.

What will he do to that man? I wondered, frozen in horror. Then, I saw him kick the man hard, forcing him to the ground. My blood ran cold when he pulled out his gun and began shooting—mercilessly, endlessly. If the weapon hadn’t run out of ammunition, he probably would have continued until the man’s body was nothing but a mangled heap.

“If I were you, I’d get away from that window before Boss’s bullet misses and ends up lodged in your forehead.”

The sharp voice startled me. I turned and found the woman who had earlier brought me food. Her piercing eyes were fixed on me, brimming with something I couldn’t quite decipher. I thought she might harm me, but my assumption was wrong.

“I don’t know why he’s so patient with you,” she continued, her tone laced with sarcasm. “He tolerates your loud mouth and your endless curiosity. Do you know what you are? A storm. If that knife had struck your head earlier, maybe it would’ve been better, because from what I see, you’ll only bring disaster. Everything he has worked so hard to build will be shattered to pieces. He’ll fall from the position he holds, and it will be your fault.”

Her laugh was short, bitter, and sharp. She clearly had a problem with me, yet her words were cloaked in mystery. She spoke in riddles, like a newspaper article blurred behind frosted glass—frustratingly vague, impossible to understand.

“I don’t understand you,” I told her, trying to steady my trembling voice. “Can’t you just be clear? Stop speaking in circles.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she walked toward me and gently helped me sit back on the bed. Confusion tightened around me. Why was she helping me when just moments ago she seemed so full of hostility? Was she truly angry with me—or was her anger directed elsewhere?

“Don’t be angry at Big Boss,” she said finally. “That man you saw… he was a spy. A spy for the Villaruiz. Do you know what his mission was? To find you here in this mansion, and to monitor Boss’s every move.”

Her explanation left me stunned. A mix of disbelief and a flicker of relief welled up inside me. Relief—because her words confirmed one thing: he had kept his promise that no one would hurt me.

“He killed the spy before he could report to your father that you were here,” she continued. “He extinguished the fire before it could spread. But no matter what he does, smoke cannot be hidden forever. One day, it will escape—at the most unexpected time.”

Her tone was chilling, poetic, and full of mystery. Why did she speak like that? Why couldn’t she just say things plainly?

“Why are you here?” I asked, my curiosity overcoming my fear. “Why do you seem so brave?”

She gave a bitter laugh, then reached for the knife that was still lodged into the headboard of my bed. She examined it slowly, carefully, and then smiled. The expression chilled me to the bone, as if the knife carried with it memories that both tormented and sustained her.

“I was once like you,” she admitted, her voice low. “The past tried to destroy me. It nearly drove me insane. But then he came. He saved me, even though I was never allowed to see his face. He helped me rise again. He taught me how to conquer fear—how to be numb. That is why I worry now when I see how patient he is with you. He’s the most dangerous man you’ll ever meet, yet in your presence he changes… and that frightens us all.”

Her gaze was cold and unwavering. “Do you remember the story I told you—the one about the moon and the sun? I don’t want that story to repeat itself. Because if it does… the next eclipse will be bloodier than the first, and it will be your fault when the moon finally crashes into the sun.”

Her words struck me with terror. I averted my gaze, unwilling to meet the weight of her eyes. She slid the knife away, hiding it once more, and gave me a smile that was more terrifying than her threats. My mind felt paralyzed, unable to think straight whenever I looked at her.

“I’m not saying that you should stay away from him, or that you should be cold when dealing with him,” Kierra said, her voice low but heavy with meaning. “I just wanted you to know a page from the past.”

I frowned, confused. “I… I hope you didn’t say that. I’m not even interested in knowing. What’s my connection to any of that? He just owns me. That’s all. And when he loses interest, he’ll throw me away, too. I’m only waiting for that day. So don’t worry—I won’t do anything that could bring him down. I won’t be the cause of his downfall.”

I forced myself to speak boldly, though the truth was, confusion gnawed at me.

Her face hardened, serious and sharp. “Anyone with connections to, or blood relatives of, the Villaruiz should not be trusted. And they should not be here.” Her eyes drilled into mine, sharp enough to pierce through skin. “But you—here you are, right inside his house. The moment I find out you have evil intentions, I will kill you. Right in front of your own house.”

Her voice dripped with venom. I could feel her fury when she spoke my last name, like the word itself was poison on her tongue. She looked as if she was about to explode in rage, her hatred intense, her threat terrifying.

“Titaaaa Kierraaa?! Where’s Daddy?”

The sharp shout startled both of us. The door swung open wide, and two small figures burst into the room—the twins. Their bravery was written all over their faces: furrowed brows, sharp little eyes, their foreheads wrinkled as though they were ready for war. Yet, despite that, they were still unbearably cute. A smile tugged at my lips. I wanted to pinch their cheeks.

So her name really was Kierra. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman—but one whose words were poisonous. She was like a rose in full bloom, breathtaking to look at, but with thorns sharp enough to draw blood.

“Ezekiel! Cattleya! Why are you here?” Kierra snapped, her tone filled with alarm. “Didn’t your father forbid you from going up to this floor? Where is your nanny?”

Her voice trembled with shock—and fear. It was as if their presence here was a mistake, something forbidden, something that might bring serious consequences.

The two children’s eyes landed on me. I smiled at them gently. Their earlier bravado melted away, replaced by a heartbreaking mixture of sadness and joy—especially in Ezekiel’s gaze. Without hesitation, they ran straight to me, throwing their little arms around me in a tight embrace.

“Mommy… Mommy, you’re back!”

My chest ached at the sound of their voices. A strange joy welled up inside me, though confusion followed quickly behind. Still, I couldn’t help but smile as they clung to me.

Although I was shocked at what they had just called me, my heart ached at the sight. Their small tears pierced something deep inside me. Gently, I wiped them away with my fingers, brushing their cheeks tenderly as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

They looked up at me again with those innocent eyes before wrapping their arms tighter around me.

“You won’t leave us again, Mommy, will you? Cattleya and I promise we’ll be good, and we’ll do all our homework. We love you, Mommy. Pinky swear you’ll never leave us. We’ve been so sad… especially Daddy. Mommy, you cried a lot every night while drinking.”

Their voices cracked, small and trembling, as they poured out everything they had held inside. My heart twisted painfully.

I looked away, unable to hold their gaze any longer. My hand moved almost instinctively, gently combing through their messy hair with my fingers, just as my mother used to do for me when she was alive. The memory brought a bittersweet smile to my lips.

“Where are they?!”

The voice thundered from outside—their father. The door banged open.

Fear jolted through me. I immediately bowed my head, and Kierra did the same. I dared not look up. His rules, his laws—one glance could cost me my life. I could almost feel the weight of a knife hovering in the air, ready to strike if I disobeyed.

“Why are you here? Didn’t I forbid you from going up to the fifth floor of this house?”

His voice was calm, almost gentle, but that only made my heart race faster. I could hear the steady, deliberate sound of his shoes as he stepped closer. Just a single step from him was enough to send waves of nervousness crashing through me.

“Boss, they’re already in the basement. What are we going to do with them?” someone asked in a low voice.

Them? Basement? My pulse quickened. Who was he referring to? And what exactly did they mean by *do with them*? My instincts screamed at me that I wasn’t supposed to know.

“Just do the f*****g right thing, Lucas,” his voice hardened, cold and sharp. “What if something bad happened to my kids because of their negligence?”

Before I could make sense of it, I felt a small, warm hand on my bandaged foot. Startled, I looked down. Cattleya was there, her tiny fingers gently holding my foot as if afraid she might hurt me.

“Who did that to you, Mommy? Do you want Baby Cattleya to kiss it so the pain goes away?” she asked innocently. Her voice was filled with such sincerity it tore at my chest. “Didn’t you say before, Mommy, that only your kids can make your pain and wounds disappear?”

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes. My throat tightened painfully.

She leaned forward and pressed kisses—on my cheeks, my forehead, the bridge of my nose—before hugging me tightly. Ezekiel followed, wrapping his arms around me as well.

Their warmth was overwhelming. Their little arms squeezed me with such love and innocence that it was almost unbearable. I didn’t dare look up, but I could *feel* the heavy gaze fixed on us—their father’s eyes. His presence dominated the entire room, even without words.

“Come now,” his deep voice broke the silence. “Let her rest first. Let… your mommy rest.”

Something in the way he said it sent unease crawling up my spine. His tone was too controlled, as if hiding something else beneath.

Carefully, he lifted the children away from me. My lips trembled, but I kept my head bowed.

“Let’s have dinner together later, Mommy!” Ezekiel’s cheerful voice rang out. “Rest well, Mommy. Cattleya and I love you so much!”

Kierra ushered the twins out with them. My chest tightened when I saw him take Cattleya into his arms—the way his sharp nose brushed against her hair, the intoxicating scent of him as he passed by. It was enough to make me gasp softly, as though a block had been dislodged from my throat.

He was messing with my mind. Twisting it. I pressed my palm against my face, trying to regain composure, frustration boiling inside me.

“Something’s bothering you.”

My heart skipped violently at the sound of his voice. His shoes clicked softly against the floor as he approached, then sank the mattress as he sat on the edge of the bed—too close. His nearness burned into my skin, suffocating me with heat.

“Your sigh is steady. You can talk to me, and I’ll give you my time.”

“N-nothing,” I stammered. My thoughts were chaos. Why was he being like this? Why was he suddenly soft with me? Was it genuine—or another trap? A way to draw me in, to bend me until I broke? I couldn’t allow it. No matter what he said, my answer could only be *no.*

His voice cut through my thoughts. “If I were to order you to stare into my eyes, would you do it, Aisha?”

My eyes widened. My breath caught. Why that question? Why now?

Curiosity clawed at me. I wanted to know—what did his eyes look like? What color, what shape, what secrets did they hold? Why did he always hide behind that mask? What was he afraid of? Or perhaps… who was he?

But I couldn’t. Not when he had forbidden it. Not when he had bound me to his law.

“No. I will not look into your eyes, Sir,” I answered firmly, though my voice shook with restrained fear. “Even if you sentence me to death because I refused to follow that order, I don’t care. I will never break your law. I take it seriously. I respect it, Sir.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. My words seemed to echo into the stillness. Had I crossed the line?

Then—laughter.

He laughed, loud and unexpected, right in front of me.

I froze. This… this was the man they all called Mafia Boss? Recognized as ruthless, merciless, feared by everyone? Yet here he was, laughing like a man stripped of every mask and every blade.

Shouldn’t he be cold, cruel, a monster without a heart? So why did he feel different? Why did he show me only kindness and something close to… gentleness?

How could I force myself to hate him when all I could see, right now, was not a ruthless mafia lord—but a man?

A kind… vulnerable man.

“Don’t you feel even a little curious about what I look like… about my eyes?”

His voice was low, carrying curiosity mingled with astonishment. “You’re the only one who dares to rebuke my orders. That’s why you caught my attention. I can’t read what’s running through your mind, Aisha. I can’t predict what you want, or whatever it is you’re thinking.”

I bit my lip. Who wouldn’t be curious? Especially when he guarded that part of himself so fiercely, as though his very soul was hidden behind it.

“About what Ezekiel said earlier,” he continued. “Do you want to have dinner with us? If you don’t, I won’t force you. I’ll simply have Lucas or Kierra bring food here. But Ezekiel and Cattleya are hoping to see you… to eat together with you.”

The words struck something deep in me. I had thought about it too—whether I could sit at their table. But in the end, if it was an order, I had no choice but to obey.

“Of course, Sir,” I replied quietly. “You own me, don’t you? You don’t even have to ask for my approval. I really have no right to refuse. But…” I hesitated. “My foot still hurts. I can’t walk properly, and it might take me a long time to get downstairs.”

He laughed then—rich, melodic, and far too disarming.

“I’ll carry you, then.”

My breath caught. W-what? Did I hear him right?

But… Kierra said he despised touching anyone’s skin. She swore he wouldn’t allow such closeness. Then why was he offering to carry me himself? Why was what I saw so far from what I had been told? Was this just another one of his games?

“Just don’t forget my law, Aisha,” he said smoothly, though there was an edge beneath his words. “If you do, I’ll let you slip from my arms and roll all the way down the stairs.”

My chest tightened. His threat hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

“No,” I protested quickly. “I can go down alone. You don’t have to lift me. This is… this is a mistake.”

The change in him was immediate. His fist clenched. Patience was slipping from him like water through cracked glass. My breath hitched when, with swift precision, he drew a gun and c****d it in front of me.

Where had it come from?

“I try to be calm when I speak to you,” he said coldly, his voice laced with steel, “but you keep denying me. Do you want this bullet to decide your fate instead? Should it kill you now—or should it make me carry you? Do you think I *want* to see you at the dinner table? No. But my children asked for it. And I promised them I would grant all of their requests, whether cleanly… or illegally.”

The firmness of his tone made my entire body tremble. My mind spun wildly, unable to think properly. Every word was dangerous. Every word pressed harder against my sanity.

“Tell me your decision, Aisha.” His finger twitched against the weapon. “My hand is itching to squeeze this trigger. I’m not joking. Time is running out. If the cord of my patience breaks, I don’t know what I might do to you. So burn this into your head—never, ever test my patience again.”

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper laced with venom. “I am waiting for your answer, Aisha.”

My throat burned. “Yes… You’re going to lift me.”

It came out barely above a whisper. His threats were cruel, his actions terrifying. Yet he always got what he wanted. My defiance was meaningless against his will.

I didn’t look at him, but I could feel it—the twisted grin spreading across his face. It was demonic, dark, and it sent ice through my veins.

“Why does it sound like you’re saying yes against your will?” he asked, almost mockingly.

Was he trying to toy with me further? Did anyone ever feel happy after being threatened into submission? Did anyone ever give in willingly after a gun was pointed at them?

His voice softened, but it chilled me more than his threats.

“Seeing you scared of me… it’s like everything inside me, all my anger, vanishes. I won’t shoot you if that’s what you’re worried about. I just enjoy watching you crumble in fear—doubting yourself, doubting me—every time I stand before you. Especially when I threaten your life.”

I froze as his words sank in.

“But remember this, Aisha.” His tone grew solemn, heavy with something I couldn’t name. “I will never hurt you. If that day ever comes… I will give you my gun. I’ll let you shoot me until the last bullet is gone. That will be the price for breaking the law I swore upon. Do you understand? If I ever harm you, my life ends with it.”

The weight of his vow pressed down on me like chains. His law, his rules—they bound me as much as they bound him.

“Just don’t forget my law, Aisha,” he repeated, almost gently this time. “Because if you do… I’ll let you fall. And I won’t stop you from rolling down the stairs.”

I secretly rolled my eyes. His temperament was so fickle that I couldn’t begin to understand him. Yet what made my heart tremble the most wasn’t his threats or his anger—it was the thought of being carried in his arms. Of having no choice but to loop my arms around his neck, pressed far too close to him.

He was like the sun—too dangerous, too blinding, and yet… why was I allowing myself to be burned, just for the chance to stay near him?