Thorns And Silk

Chapter 2 — The Devil of Chicago

Dante's POV

The warehouse smelled like blood, rust, and fear.

Three scents that had followed me for most of my life.

Rain hammered against the metal walls outside while one of my men dragged the traitor across the concrete floor by his collar, leaving a streak of blood behind him. The man coughed violently, choking on broken breaths as he tried to beg through swollen lips.

“Please—please, Don Castellano—”

“Shut him up,” Luca said coldly.

A punch landed instantly.

Silence returned.

I stood near the hanging meat hooks with my hands tucked calmly into the pockets of my black coat while Marco lit a cigarette beside me. The dim industrial lights overhead flickered occasionally, throwing shadows across the warehouse like ghosts.

The traitor trembled on the floor.

Good.

Fear made people honest.

“He talked to the Romano family twice,” Luca informed me while glancing down at his phone. “And he sold information about the south dock shipment.”

The man shook his head frantically despite the blood pouring from his nose. “I swear I didn’t—I didn’t tell them everything—”

“That wasn’t the question,” I replied calmly.

My voice echoed quietly through the warehouse.

The man froze.

I stepped closer slowly until my polished shoes stopped inches from his face. He looked up at me with terror so intense it almost bored me.

People always expected rage from monsters.

Screaming.

Violence.

Uncontrolled brutality.

But fear became far more effective when delivered calmly.

“You stole from me,” I said softly.

“N-no—”

“You lied to me.”

He started crying.

Pathetic.

“I have children,” he whispered desperately. “Please—please, I only needed money—”

Marco exhaled smoke beside me. “And now your children get to grow up without a father. Tragic.”

The man sobbed harder.

I crouched slowly in front of him, resting my forearms against my knees.

“When a man joins my family,” I said quietly, “he understands one thing very clearly.”

The warehouse remained silent except for rain and broken breathing.

“Betrayal is paid in blood.”

The man screamed when Luca grabbed his injured hand and slammed it against the concrete.

Bones cracked loudly.

I watched without reacting.

Once, years ago, violence used to disturb me.

Now it simply existed.

Necessary.

Routine.

The man cried so hard he nearly choked on his own blood.

“Please—”

“Who else was involved?” I interrupted.

“No one.”

Luca sighed. “Wrong answer.”

Another scream echoed through the warehouse.

Marco glanced at me sideways. “You know, most men would be spending the night celebrating their engagement.”

“I’m not most men.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

I ignored him.

My thoughts drifted unwillingly toward the girl from earlier.

Aria Voss.

Even unconscious, she had looked frightened.

That bothered me more than it should have.

Luca must have noticed the shift in my expression because he smirked faintly. “You’re thinking about the bride already.”

“I’m thinking about business.”

“Sure,” Marco muttered. “And I’m thinking about becoming a priest.”

I stood again slowly.

“Finish this,” I ordered.

The traitor’s eyes widened in horror. “No—please—DON’T LEAVE—”

Gunshots echoed seconds later as I walked toward the warehouse exit.

I didn’t look back.

I never did.

Outside, the cold Chicago rain soaked instantly into my coat while black SUVs waited near the docks. The city skyline glowed in the distance beneath clouds thick enough to swallow moonlight whole.

Marco followed me out first.

“So,” he drawled while opening the passenger door for himself, “when exactly were you planning on telling us you were getting married?”

“I wasn’t.”

Luca exited behind us with blood still staining his gloves. “This alliance is risky.”

“Everything worthwhile is risky.”

“She’s Viktor Voss’s daughter,” Luca reminded sharply. “That family is collapsing.”

“I know.”

“And Sebastian Voss is unstable.”

“I know that too.”

Marco leaned against the SUV with amusement dancing in his eyes. “Still doesn’t explain why you accepted so quickly.”

I stared out toward the dark water silently.

Because she looked terrified.

Because bruises hidden beneath makeup reminded me too much of another woman who had once begged silently for help.

Because when Viktor touched her, she stopped breathing.

None of those reasons made sense strategically.

So I kept them to myself.

“She’s useful,” I answered simply.

Marco snorted. “Right. Useful.”

Luca removed his gloves slowly. “I don’t trust this.”

“You don’t trust anyone.”

“For good reason.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Trust got men killed.

I entered the SUV without another word.

But during the entire drive back to the estate, I kept remembering the way Aria looked at me after I accepted the deal.

Not hopeful.

Not relieved.

Just afraid.

Like she already believed I would destroy her too.

Aria's POV

My head hurt.

That was the first thing I realized when consciousness slowly returned.

The second thing I noticed was silence.

No yelling.

No breaking glass.

No Sebastian.

My eyes fluttered open carefully.

A soft lamp glowed nearby, illuminating an unfamiliar room decorated in dark wood and expensive furniture. The bed beneath me felt impossibly soft compared to the mattress back home.

Panic hit instantly.

I sat up too fast.

A sharp dizzy spell followed immediately.

“Easy.”

I flinched violently at the deep voice.

Dante Castellano stood near the window with one hand tucked into his pocket while rain slid down the glass behind him. He had removed his suit jacket, leaving only the black dress shirt stretched across his broad shoulders.

Fear curled tightly inside my chest.

“I…” My throat felt dry. “I’m sorry.”

The words slipped out automatically.

Always apologize first.

That lesson had been beaten into me years ago.

Dante’s expression darkened slightly.

“For what?”

I blinked.

“For fainting.”

“You fainted because your father sold you to a stranger.”

My fingers tightened around the blanket.

When he said it aloud, the reality became harder to escape.

Sold.

Married.

Trapped.

I looked down quickly before he could see panic building in my eyes.

“I brought you here because you were barely conscious,” he continued calmly. “You’ll return to the Voss house tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

A small breath escaped me before I could stop it.

Relief.

Temporary relief.

Dante noticed.

Of course he did.

His gaze sharpened slightly.

“You’re afraid of going back there,” he observed quietly.

“No.”

Lie.

The answer came too quickly.

I hated myself for it instantly.

Dante walked closer slowly, and every muscle in my body tensed automatically.

He noticed that too.

“You don’t need to lie to me, Aria.”

The gentleness in his voice frightened me more than cruelty would have.

Cruel men made sense.

Kind ones were unpredictable.

“I should go home,” I whispered.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

Another lie.

His jaw tightened faintly.

“You apologize constantly,” he said suddenly.

I looked up in confusion.

“What?”

“You apologize even when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

My chest tightened painfully.

He shouldn’t notice things like that.

Nobody noticed things like that.

Dante studied me silently for several seconds before speaking again.

“Did Sebastian give you those bruises?”

The question sliced through me instantly.

I froze.

My heartbeat became uneven.

“No.”

This lie sounded weaker.

His eyes remained fixed on me calmly, almost patiently.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Humiliation burned across my face.

I quickly pulled the blanket higher over my arms.

The room felt too warm suddenly.

Too small.

Too quiet.

“I don’t want problems,” I whispered carefully.

Something cold flashed across his expression then.

“Meaning?”

“If Sebastian finds out I spoke badly about him…”

I stopped abruptly.

I had already said too much.

Fear rose sharply inside me.

Dante remained silent for a long moment before finally asking, “Does your family hurt you often?”

The question nearly broke something inside me.

Often.

As though pain had become measurable.

Routine.

Normal.

I stared at my hands silently.

That was answer enough.

The room fell quiet except for rain tapping softly against the windows.

Finally, Dante exhaled slowly and stepped back.

“You should sleep.”

Relief mixed strangely with disappointment.

Why disappointment?

I didn’t understand.

Dante moved toward the door before pausing.

“No one will touch you here tonight.”

My throat tightened unexpectedly.

No one will touch you.

Such simple words.

Yet nobody had ever said them to me before.

After he left, I remained frozen in the bed for several minutes.

Then suddenly my body started trembling violently.

I pressed my hand against my mouth to stop the sound that tried to escape.

Marriage.

Mafia.

Dante Castellano.

My future looked like a dark tunnel with no ending anymore.

And somehow the most terrifying part was not Dante himself.

It was the small, dangerous feeling buried beneath all my fear.

He had looked at me tonight like he actually saw me.

Dante's POV

“She’s been isolated most of her life.”

I leaned back in my office chair while the private investigator placed a thick file onto the desk.

Rain still poured outside.

Nearly three in the morning now.

Yet sleep remained impossible.

I opened the folder slowly.

Photographs.

School records.

Medical reports.

Missing social appearances.

Witness statements.

The investigator adjusted his glasses carefully. “Most public events showed no visible signs of abuse, but staff members from the Voss estate mentioned frequent injuries.”

My jaw tightened.

“What kind of injuries?”

“Bruises. Cuts. Once a dislocated wrist.”

Silence filled the office.

The investigator hesitated before continuing carefully. “There were also rumors involving Sebastian Voss.”

Something dangerous stirred inside my chest instantly.

“What rumors?”

“He drinks heavily. Violent temper. Several servants claimed he became… possessive of Miss Voss over the years.”

My fingers stilled against the file.

Possessive.

I remembered the way Sebastian gripped her wrist beneath the table.

The fear in her face.

The automatic apologies.

A slow rage settled beneath my skin.

Cold.

Controlled.

The investigator cleared his throat nervously. “There’s more.”

I looked up.

“She rarely leaves the estate. No close relationships except one childhood friend named Cleo Moreno. Records suggest Miss Voss stopped attending university after a year.”

“Why?”

“No explanation.”

I already knew the answer.

Control.

Isolation.

Abuse always followed patterns.

I closed the file quietly.

“How long has this been happening?”

The investigator hesitated. “Likely since adolescence.”

Jesus Christ.

I dismissed him shortly afterward and remained alone in the office while the fireplace crackled softly nearby.

The photographs inside the folder stared back at me.

Aria at charity events.

Aria beside her family.

Aria smiling small, practiced smiles that never reached her eyes.

Then one image caught my attention.

A zoomed photograph taken outside a bookstore six months earlier.

She was sitting near the window with a novel in her lap, sunlight falling across her face while she smiled faintly at something on the page.

A real smile.

Tiny.

Soft.

Alive.

Not frightened.

Not empty.

Just… peaceful.

Something tightened unexpectedly in my chest.

I stared at the picture longer than necessary.

Then Marco entered without knocking.

“You’re still awake?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

He dropped into the chair across from me lazily before noticing the file. “Ah. The future Mrs. Castellano.”

I closed the folder.

Marco smirked immediately. “That interested, huh?”

“She’s being abused.”

The amusement disappeared from his face instantly.

“Oh.”

“Viktor allowed it.”

Marco’s expression darkened slowly. “And Sebastian?”

“I’m going to kill him if he touches her again.”

The words came out calmly.

Matter-of-fact.

Marco stared at me for a second before sighing heavily. “You’re already attached.”

“I’m protecting an asset.”

“Sure.”

I ignored him.

Marco leaned back in his chair. “You know what Luca said earlier?”

“I don’t particularly care.”

“He said you looked at her like a starving man.”

Silence.

I disliked how accurate that sounded.

Not for her body.

For something else.

Something far more dangerous.

Softness.

Innocence.

The fragile part of her that still survived despite everything.

Marco watched me carefully. “Just be careful, Dante.”

“When am I not?”

He laughed outright at that.

“Brother, you literally solve most problems with murder.”

“Effective strategy.”

Marco shook his head with amusement before standing again. “Get some sleep.”

After he left, my gaze drifted back toward the photograph inside the folder.

Aria smiling softly at a book.

A strange possessiveness returned instantly.

Someone had spent years teaching her fear.

Breaking her slowly.

Piece by piece.

And now she belonged to me.

The realization should have felt strategic.

Practical.

Instead, it felt personal.

Dangerously personal.

I stared out at the rain-covered city beyond the office windows.

Then I made a decision quietly.

Nobody would hurt Aria Voss again.

Not while I was alive.