Bound By Invisible Chains

Chapter 1

The bucket water was ice-cold against her raw hands.

Luciana - Lucy to the few people who had ever bothered to be kind to her - knelt on the cracked kitchen tiles, scrubbing at stains that had been there longer than she had. It was barely five in the morning, and the house was already heavy with the smell of stale cigarettes and last night's whiskey. Her knees ached. Her back burned. But she kept scrubbing.

"Faster, you worthless girl!"

Her aunt's voice sliced through the quiet like a whip. Victoria stormed into the kitchen, robe half-open, hair wild, reeking of alcohol even this early. At forty-six, she still wore the bitter beauty of a woman who had once been admired and had never recovered from losing it.

Lucy didn't look up. She never did anymore.

"You think sleeping until five makes you special?" Victoria snarled, kicking the bucket so dirty water splashed across Lucy's thin nightdress.

"Your mother dumped you on us and you still act like a princess. Clean this s**t properly!"

A sharp crack echoed as the back of Victoria's hand connected with Lucy's cheek.

The force sent her sprawling sideways, wet hair sticking to her face.

Pain bloomed hot and familiar. She tasted blood where her lip had split against her teeth.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Victoria," Lucy whispered, already crawling back to the bucket.

"You're damn right you're sorry." Victoria lit a cigarette with shaking fingers. "Your stepfather works hard to keep a roof over your ungrateful head. The least you can do is not be a burden."

As if on cue, Marcus shuffled in - Lucy's stepfather. Balding, pot-bellied, eyes bloodshot. He barely glanced at the girl on the floor before grabbing a beer from the fridge.

"Keep her in line," he muttered to his wife. "We've got company coming tonight. Big company."

Victoria's eyes gleamed with something cruel and desperate. "Good. Maybe they'll finally take her off our hands."

Lucy kept her head down, biting the inside of her cheek until it bled. She was twenty years old. Old enough to leave. But where would she go with no money, no friends, and a body already mapped with bruises no one ever asked about?

The day dragged on in its usual nightmare rhythm.

She cooked breakfast. She cleaned the bathrooms until her arms shook. She washed their clothes by hand because Victoria said the washing machine was "too good" for her. Every time she slowed down, a new slap or shove reminded her of her place.

By evening, fresh welts burned across her back from her aunt's belt after she had dared to drop a single fork.

She was on her knees again, picking up shattered pieces of a plate, when the knocking started.

Heavy. Authoritative. Dangerous.

Victoria's face went pale. Marcus straightened his dirty shirt like it would make a difference.

They whispered frantically in the hallway before opening the door.

Two large men in dark suits stepped inside first, scanning the shabby house with open disgust. Then he entered.

He was tall - easily 6'4 - with broad shoulders that filled the doorway like he owned it. Black hair, sharp jawline, and eyes so dark they seemed to swallow light. His tailored black suit screamed money and violence. A faint tattoo peeked from the collar of his crisp white shirt. Power rolled off him in waves.

His gaze swept the room once before landing on Lucy, still kneeling on the floor with broken porcelain in her hands and bruises blooming on her face.

Her breath caught.

He didn't look away.

"What the hell is this?" Victoria tried to sound sweet but failed miserably. "Mr. Moretti, we-we have the money coming, I swear-"

"Save it," the man said, voice low and smooth like aged whiskey. His eyes never left Lucy. "Your debt is two hundred and fifty thousand. You said you had an alternative form of payment."

Marcus stepped forward, practically shoving Lucy to her feet. She stumbled, catching herself on the wall.

"This is her," Marcus said quickly. "Luciana. Twenty years old. Healthy. She can... work. Clean. Whatever you need. She's yours if it clears the debt."

Victoria nodded eagerly, grabbing Lucy's arm hard enough to bruise. "She's strong. Quiet. Good for whatever your men want."

Lucy's stomach dropped. She tried to pull away, but her aunt's grip was iron.

The tall man - Moretti - stepped closer. He towered over her. Up close he was even more devastating: sharp cheekbones, full lips, and a presence that made the air feel thinner. He studied her like a predator deciding whether the wounded prey was worth claiming.

He reached out and caught her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up to the light. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but the power behind it was unmistakable. His thumb brushed just below the fresh split on her lip.

Lucy shivered. Fear and something darker twisted low in her belly.

Moretti's eyes darkened.

"She's coming with me," he said flatly. No negotiation. No question.

A cruel smile spread across Victoria's face. "She's all yours."

Lucy's voice finally broke through the terror.

"Wait- please-"

Moretti's grip on her chin tightened just slightly. He leaned in, lips brushing her ear so only she could hear.

"Quiet, little lamb. You belong to me now."

Outside, the rain started falling harder as the devil she'd just been sold to led her into the night.