THE SILENT PAWN

The first time Sienna Reyes saw death up close, she was ten years old. She remembered the cold bite of the marble floor beneath her bare feet, the scent of expensive whiskey mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Her father’s voice—usually smooth, calculated—had cracked that night, desperate and pleading as he begged for mercy. But mercy had never been a currency in their world. The man in the tailored suit had smiled, a cold, detached thing, before pulling the trigger. That was the first lesson she learned: Power doesn’t beg. Power takes. And now, years later, she was being taken. The black car sliced through the rain-drenched streets of New York, its tinted windows shielding her from the outside world. Sienna sat still, hands folded in her lap, the rhythmic thump of her heartbeat drowning out the murmured conversation between the two men sitting at the front. She wasn’t bound—there was no need. A pawn didn’t run. A pawn didn’t fight. Not yet, anyway. The deal had been made three nights ago in a dimly lit room filled with cigar smoke and whispered threats. Her father, once a powerful man in the underworld, had fallen from grace. His debts had piled up, his enemies had grown bolder, and now, in a final desperate attempt to keep their family’s blood from staining the streets, he had offered her as collateral. A gesture of good faith to Luciano DeLuca, the heir to the empire that had once been their rival but was now their executioner. Sienna had never met Luca, but she knew his name well. Everyone did. A man whispered about in hushed, reverent tones. A man who had built his reputation on cruelty and precision, the kind who wielded power like a blade and didn’t hesitate to cut down those who crossed him. The king of a world that had no place for women like her—ornamental, disposable, forgotten. Except Sienna was not forgettable. And she had no intention of playing the role they had written for her. The car slowed, pulling through the wrought-iron gates of a sprawling estate. The driveway was lined with lanterns, their golden glow casting eerie shadows against the stone façade of the mansion ahead. It wasn’t just a home—it was a fortress. A place built not for comfort, but for control. Her fingers curled into her dress as the door swung open. A man she didn’t recognize—a soldier, judging by the way he carried himself—motioned for her to step out. Sienna lifted her chin and obeyed, her heels clicking against the slick pavement. She wouldn’t tremble. She wouldn’t cower. She would play their game until she found a way to win. Inside, the air smelled of leather and expensive cologne, the kind of wealth that came from blood and power. The room she was led to was vast, dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city beyond. And there, standing in the center like a god surveying his kingdom, was Luciano DeLuca. He was taller than she expected, broad-shouldered, dressed in black, his suit tailored to perfection. But it wasn’t the wealth that made him imposing—it was the stillness. The cold, calculating energy that crackled around him like a storm waiting to break. His gaze was unreadable, but when it landed on her, something in the air shifted. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, in a voice as smooth as silk and sharp as a blade, he said, “You’re smaller than I expected.” Sienna’s lips parted slightly before she found her voice. “And you’re colder than I expected.” A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t need warmth to break you, Sienna.” Her pulse kicked up, but she didn’t look away. “You can’t break something that isn’t yours.” Luca stepped closer, his presence suffocating, his scent a mixture of dark spice and danger. “You were given to me, little pawn.” His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, his touch deceptively gentle. “And in my world, what’s given… is owned.” Sienna refused to flinch, even as ice crawled down her spine. She had been raised in this world. She knew what men like him were capable of. But she also knew one thing Luca didn’t. A pawn could still take down a king. And she would.