Chapter 4
1384 Words
Luca's Pov
(Few hours ago)
Silence was a language I’d long since mastered. People always say more when I say nothing. Their imaginations filled in the blanks, always assuming the worst. That was the power of silence. And fear.
I liked silence... Up until something comes to disrupt it.
A knock came down on my door and I immediately knew it was Gabe. It was short. One, two, three. No more. The same way he always did when it was urgent. Not the casual pace he used when he had updates about shipments or territory disputes. This was different.
I set down the glass of bourbon I hadn’t yet sipped and turned slowly. “Speak.”
He opened the door halfway, his voice low. “There’s a situation downstairs. You’ll want to see it yourself.”
Frowning, I rose without another word, my suit jacket creasing as I rolled my shoulders and stepped past him. Gabe didn’t waste my time—not if he wanted to keep his tongue.
The hallway outside my office was dim, lined with black walls and soft crimson lights. It was deliberate, atmospheric. The deeper into my domain one walked, the more oppressive it felt. A calculated effect.
I moved quickly down the hall, Gabe shadowing me. We moved down the metal stairwell that led beneath the club, past the pounding music and drunken laughter. The air changed as we descended—less perfume and sweat, more rot and dread.
We stopped in front of a gigantic, metallic door and Gabe pushed it open. As I stepped into the room, my gaze fell on two men that were tied up—one on each side of the room. Barely conscious. Blood dripped from their noses, and their clothes were damp with sweat. Their knees buckled, but the chains suspended them from the ceiling, keeping them upright like broken puppets.
The moment they saw me, something changed. Fear settled over their faces like fog. One of them began to tremble so violently that his chains rattled.
Gabe tilted his head toward them. “We caught them trying to sneak into the busted-down brothel on 48th. Claimed they had a ‘delivery’ for Viktor.”
Viktor. Again.
What's it with those sick motherfucker and underage prostitution rings?
My eyes narrowed. “That place was cleared two nights ago. The girls moved to safehouses. Who were they delivering?”
The taller one whimpered. “A girl. We… we were told to take her there.”
I moved in, silent as death, and stopped inches from the man. He couldn’t meet my eyes. No one ever could.
“What girl?”
“Sh-She was payment, sir. Payment for her father’s debts. We didn’t know anything else. We just do what we were told. I swear.”
“Name.”
He looked at Gabe. Then back at me. “Aria. Aria Callahan.”
Something in me froze.
Not because the name meant anything. It didn’t. But because Gabe handed me photo—security cam footage from the bookstore. A tiny woman being dragged into a van.
Dark brown hair. Porcelain skin. Soft curves and a fragile frame that didn’t look like it belonged in this world, let alone in ours.
Something shifted inside me.
I didn’t like things that made me feel. But there it was. A twitch in my chest. A flicker of curiosity I hadn’t felt in years.
She looked like a whisper. Something soft, delicate and breakable.
I stared at the image longer than I should’ve.
“She’s here?” I asked, voice even.
“Yes,” Gabe confirmed. "We locked her in the confinement room. She was unconscious when they brought her in. Must’ve hit her harder than they should’ve."
I said nothing. I just studied the photo again. She didn’t look like the others. She didn’t belong here. There was a strange pull in my gut I couldn’t ignore.
“How much did they want for her?”
Gabe blinked. “Sir?”
I turned to him. “Buy her. Whatever they ask. But make sure they never speak of this again.”
“They’ll keep quiet.”
“They’d better.”
I pivoted and walked out, leaving the two men behind. Gabe could handle them. I didn’t need to see more.
Back in my office, I stared out the tinted window. The city lights twinkled below like stars scattered across concrete. My jaw tightened as I rolled the name around in my head.
Aria.
I didn’t deal with girls. Not like Viktor and the others. The prostitution rings under my control were built on choice and loyalty. Every woman there was willing—eager even. It wasn’t about morality. It was about control. Sloppy operations like the one on the 48th brought attention. And in our line of work, attention was the last thing you'd want.
But why her?
“Sir?” Gabe’s voice interrupted.
I turned slightly.
“She’s secure. Still unconscious.”
I nodded. “Let me know when she wakes.”
He hesitated.
“What?” I could almost hear the questions swirling in his head.
“I’ve never seen you do that before. Buy someone like that.”
I didn’t respond.
Because I didn’t understand it either.
****
Two hours passed. I worked. Read intel. Cleaned a blade still crusted with blood. My mind shouldn’t have wandered, but it did.
I kept picturing her face. Not scared. Not broken. Just… soft. Out of place.
When the knock came, I was halfway to the door already.
“She’s awake,” Gabe said.
I moved past him without a word.
The hallways towards the confinement wing were silent, save for the soft buzz of fluorescents. My steps didn’t echo. They never did.
When I reached the room, I stopped outside the glass wall and looked in.
She was huddled in a corner, hands trembling as she touched the back of her neck. Her face scrunched in confusion. Then panic. Then fear. I watched the entire progression without blinking.
It was fascinating how much her emotions were portrayed on her face.
She noticed the mirror—smart enough to know she was being watched, and her breathing sped up, her lips quivering.
Deciding not to waste any more time, I finally stepped inside.
She heard the door unlock before she saw me. When she did, she recoiled like a rabbit spotting a wolf.
Her eyes were wide. No recognition, only raw terror.
Good. Fear was useful.
She took in my appearance—my size, the tattoos, the silence.
I stopped three feet from her.
She tried to back away further, but the chains around her wrists and ankles held her. Not tight. Just enough.
Her voice was small. “P-please… I don’t… I don’t know why I’m here.”
I said nothing.
“I work at a bookstore. That’s all. I swear, I don’t know what this is about.”
Still, I didn’t speak.
She began to cry. Not loud sobs. Just silent tears streaming down pale cheeks.
“I don’t have any family. No one’s going to come for me. If this is about money, I don’t have any. If it’s about my father, I haven’t seen him in years. I don’t—”
I stepped forward.
She flinched, curling into herself. She looked so small. So breakable.
I reached out and grabbed her chin. Gentle but firm. She squeezed her eyes shut, a tiny whimper escaping her lips.
“Open them,” I said, voice low.
She shook her head, eyes still shut tight.
My grip tightened—just slightly. “Now.”
She obeyed, slowly. When her gaze met mine, something passed between us. A flicker of something primal. Unexplained.
God... She was beautiful.
“W-what are you going to do to me?”
I tilted my head.
“Kill me?”
“And why would I do that?” I murmured.
She blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t… I don’t know,” she answered, her voice seemingly small.
A faint smirk tugged at my lips. “Why would I kill something I just bought?”
Her breath hitched. The realization dawned slowly. Her lips parted, but no words came.
She is mine now.
And she didn’t even know what that meant yet.
- Writer
