Married To The Mafia Devil

(Alessia PoV) The rain was merciless. It whipped at my skin until my wedding gown clung to me like a second flesh, heavy and suffocating. As I ran the veil hinged on a street lamp and tore behind me but I didn’t care. I only knew one thing—I had to keep running. My heels slipped on the pavement, as I fell to the ground, my breath ragged and desperate. Every sound became a threat—the splash of footsteps, the rumble of engines, the low hum of the city that suddenly felt hostile. I got up again. My heart slammed against my ribs but I had to keep running. My world had shrunk to the sound of rain and the pounding in my ears. I turned a corner and nearly slipped. My reflection glared back at me on a shop window. My makeup was ruined and my hair glued at my face. My white lace was torn and stained with mud. I didn’t look like a bride. I looked like a ghost running from her own grave. “Where do you think you’re going, pretty thing?” The voice sliced through the storm, deep and mocking. My heart trembled. Three men emerged from the shadows, their faces were covered with hoods, their eyes shining with mischief even in the rain. My throat closed. “P… please, I don’t want any trouble.” They laughed. The kind of laugh that told me I was already in trouble. One of them circled behind me, another inched closer. “A girl like you shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said. “Especially not dressed like that. Husband kick you out already?” “Stay back.” My voice cracked, I sounded weak even to my own ears. “Or what?” His hand shot out, fingers brushing my arm. I jerked his hands away but he didn't stop. The street was empty and I stood there, weak and scared to my bone. Suddenly, a shadow emerged from nowhere slicing through the men who had cornered me. The one that tried to touch me didn't get the chance to scream. One second, he was smirking at me and the next, his head was slammed against the wall. Blood sprayed all around me mixing with the rain. “You dare to touch her again,” a voice growled, “and I’ll break more than your face.” It was Dante. The same man I was running away from. My body went rigid, torn between terror and relief. He looked monstrous in the storm, his black suit plastered to his body, water dripped from his hair dripping and his eyes… his eyes burned with rage. He threw a jab at another man sending him sprawling into the gutter. The third barely had time to swing before Dante caught his wrist, twisted, and snapped the bone like it was nothing. Their screams filled the street while mine remained stuck in my throat. Dante turned, blood dripping from his knuckles. For a moment, he was all fury and destruction. Then his gaze landed on me, soft and tender. “Alessia.” He called, my name sounded strange in his lips. He closed the distance in three strides, grabbed my arm, and yanked me to him. The rain soaked us both, his grip hard and firm. “Are you insane?” His voice was sharp, edged with rage. “Running into the night like this do you have a death wish?” “I…” My lips trembled. “I had to…” “You had to what? Be torn apart by gutter trash?” His grip tightened then his voice got dangerously low. “You’re mine now. Mine. Do you understand that?” “I’m not yours.” The words slipped out, shaky but real. For a moment, there was only silence and the storm between us. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed and then he laughed. Dark and humorless. “Oh, Alessia. You still don’t understand the cage you’ve stepped into.” His bloody knuckles brushed against my cheek with a startling gentleness, contradicting the violence I’d just witnessed. “But you will.” I shivered. Not from the rain but from his words. Dante’s hand was still on me, strong and unyielding. His thumb traced my jaw, smearing rain and mascara, but his eyes… they weren’t just looking at me. They were looking through me. As if I was no longer a person, just a possession he was scolding for stepping out of line. “I don’t belong to you,” I forced out, though my voice was small, choked with fear. His gaze sharpened. “Say that again.” “I don’t belong to you.” Lightning split the sky. His lips curled—not quite a smile, not quite a snarl. “You do, Alessia, you don't just know it yet.” I shook my head, pulling against his grip, but he dragged me closer until my wet dress clung to his suit. He smelled of rain and blood making my stomach turn. My body trembled for reasons I hated to acknowledge. “I’m not a thing you can own,” I whispered. “You already are.” He replied, his voice deadly calm quieter than the storm but sharper than the thunder. “You've said your vows and signed the papers. Running does not undo it.” His words sank in, heavy and suffocating. I wanted to scream, to claw and fight, but another part knew that resistance wouldn’t get me far. He must have seen it in my eyes, because his eyes softened. Not much, just a flicker. His bloody knuckles brushed my cheek again, slower this time. “They could have hurt you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “They could have touched you.” His jaw locked. “And I would’ve killed them for it.” I froze. That flicker of gentleness was more terrifying than his violence. Because it wasn’t kindness. It was obsession. “Come.” He released my face only to seize my hand instead, dragging me down the street. His car was waiting at the curb, sleek and black, headlights glowing in the dark. A driver waiting by, umbrella in hand, but Dante shoved it aside, pushing me into the back seat himself. “Dante…” I tried, but the door slammed shut, cutting me off. A second later, he slid in beside me and the door locked automatically. We drove in silence which felt worse than the rain. I pressed myself against the far door, my breath still ragged. “You can’t do this. You can’t just…” “I Can’t?” His head turned slowly toward me and he chuckled. “You don’t own me,” I repeated, ignoring the c***k in my voice. He leaned forward, resting an elbow casually on the back of the seat, invading every inch of space I had left. “Then tell me wife, why did you wear my ring today? Why did you stand in front of God and vow yourself to me?” My throat burned. “Because you forced me.” His lips twitched. “You agreed.” “To save my father,” I snapped, finding a piece of strength. “Not for you. Never for you.” His jaw flexed. Then he said softly but with enough weight to crush me: “Your inentions don’t matter, only your choices. And you chose me.” I wanted to slap him, to scream. But my fingers clenched my ruined skirt instead, trembling. Every time I dared to glance at him, he was already watching me. Like a predator studying a prey. Or like a jailer studying a prisoner who hasn't realized that her cell was inescapable. “You’re a monster.” I whispered His eyes flared, and for the briefest moment something flickered there… hurt? Anger? It was gone too quickly. “Maybe,” he murmured, turning back to the rain-streaked glass. “But I’m the monster who saved you.” I had no answer for that. The rest of the ride was silent. The kind that pressed down like a weight, suffocating and endless. When we reached the Romano Hotel, the car pulled beneath the marble building, golden lights scattered across the glass mansion. To anyone else, it was luxury, but to me, it was a gilded cage. Dante stepped out first, then turned back for me, offering his hand. His knuckles were still smeared with blood but he didn't care. “Come,” he said again, softer this time. It was a command disguised as an invitation. I hesitated. My whole body screamed at me not to take it. But the driver’s eyes avoided mine, and the guards near the entrance stood waiting. Outside this marble building the storm raged on and inside houses a monster that saved me. My home was ruined and I had nowhere else to go. So I put my hand in his. His fingers closed around mine, firm and domineering. He didn’t smile, didn’t gloat. He just held me as if letting go wasn’t an option. As he led me through the towering glass doors, my heart whispered the truth I didn’t want to face. I hadn’t escaped him, and I never would. But deep down, a far darker truth stirred. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, because he'll always haunt me till he finds me.