bound by the mafia king

Chapter Three – Firestorm

The sharp crack of bullets shattered the marble silence.

Elena screamed, clutching her ears as glass rained down from the chandelier above. Men in black masks stormed the hall, guns raised, voices shouting in harsh accents.

“Down! Get down!” one of them roared.

Her father dropped to the floor instantly, but Adrian Moretti didn’t flinch. He moved like a predator unleashed, pulling a sleek pistol from the holster under his jacket. His grip on Elena’s hand tightened until her bones ached.

“Stay behind me,” he growled.

“I— I can’t—” she stammered, her knees shaking so violently she thought they might give way.

A masked man lunged toward them. Adrian fired once. The intruder crumpled at her feet, blood staining the white marble. Elena gasped, stumbling back, bile rising in her throat.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

But Adrian didn’t pause. His cold gray eyes turned merciless, each shot precise, each movement terrifyingly calm. He was death itself, moving through the chaos like he owned it.

Marco appeared at his side, firing at the men spilling in from the doors. “Boss! They’re Viktor’s men!”

Elena’s heart hammered. Viktor. The name alone made Adrian’s jaw harden.

“Of course it’s him,” Adrian muttered darkly, shoving Elena behind a pillar. “Don’t move.”

“But—Papa—!” she cried, her eyes darting to where her father cowered helplessly.

Adrian’s gaze flicked toward the older man, then back to her. His lips curved in a cruel smirk. “Relax, princess. Your father’s too pathetic to be worth killing right now. You, however…” He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “…are mine. And I protect what’s mine.”

Before she could respond, a masked man grabbed her arm from behind, yanking her backward. Elena shrieked, kicking wildly, her nails digging into his mask.

“Adrian!”

His head snapped toward her voice. In the next second, the man holding her dropped dead, a bullet straight through his skull.

Elena froze, staring at Adrian in horror as blood splattered across her dress. He was across the room, gun still raised, his face carved in stone. He hadn’t hesitated. Not for a second.

The last intruders fled, leaving bodies scattered across the marble floor. Silence returned, broken only by Elena’s ragged breathing.

Adrian lowered his gun and strode toward her, his shoes clicking against the blood-stained floor.

Her chest rose and fell violently as he stopped in front of her. She tried to back away, but the cold pillar pressed against her spine.

He tilted her chin up with his blood-stained hand, forcing her to meet his steel gaze.

“Do you understand now?” His voice was low, dangerous. “This is my world. Bullets. Blood. Power. And from tonight on, you’re part of it.”

Her lips trembled. “I don’t belong here…”

“Oh, you do.” His thumb brushed her trembling bottom lip. “You belong to me.”

Her stomach twisted with rage and fear. “I’ll never be yours.”

Adrian’s smirk returned, dark and sinful. “We’ll see about that.”

Before she could speak again, he turned to Marco. “Get the car. We’re taking her home.”

“Home?” Elena echoed in disbelief.

Adrian’s gaze locked on hers, final and inescapable.

“My home, princess. From tonight on… you live with me.”