"Bound to the Capo: The Valenti Secret"

THE BLOOD CONTRACT "Ten million euros for this woman. Paid in full." The cold, baritone voice, heavy with absolute dominance, cut through the noise inside the old warehouse at the Genoa docks. The atmosphere instantly froze. Alessia lay on the cold, filthy concrete floor, her hands bound by coarse rope. The skin on her wrists was raw, bruised, and bleeding. Before her, Pietro—her wretched stepfather—knelt trembling, his face beaten and bloody. Pietro had just sold Alessia to settle his gambling and drug debts. "DDon Moretti... you’re not joking, are you?" Pietro’s voice trembled violently. His eyes glittered with a mix of fear and greed as he watched the black suitcase filled with stacks of cash tossed before him. The man addressed as Don Moretti did not reply. His footsteps echoed heavily across the room. Dante Moretti. The most feared mafia boss in Northern Italy stood tall before Alessia. A charcoal suit tailored by a master craftsman draped his tall, athletic frame. His face looked as if it were carved from marble—handsome, cold, devoid of a shred of humanity behind his deadly obsidian eyes. Dante knelt on one knee in front of Alessia. The scent of expensive tobacco and a heavy, masculine cologne suddenly invaded her senses, making her chest tighten with panic. Dante’s large, cold, and rough fingers gripped Alessia’s chin mercilessly, forcing her to look straight into the Capo’s eyes. The grip was so tight that she whimpered in pain. "Don't look at me like that, piccola tigre," Dante whispered low. His voice was raspy, piercing straight to Alessia’s spine. "From this second on, your body, your breath, and your life belong to me." "Let me go, you bastard!" Alessia shouted, attempting to spit in his face despite her overwhelming weakness. "I am not an object you can buy from that piece of trash!" Dante wasn't angry. Instead, the corners of his lips lifted into a chilling, thin smirk. "You have courage," Dante murmured, running his thumb over Alessia's trembling lips. "But courage won't save your mother, who is dying in the hospital, Alessia." Alessia’s blood suddenly ran cold. Her eyes widened. How could this man know about her mother?! "One phone call from me, and your mother’s oxygen supply will be cut off tonight," Dante continued coldly, without the slightest hesitation. "Sign this contract, or watch your mother die before dawn." The threat hit Alessia’s chest like the blow of a sledgehammer. Tears of defeat finally spilled down her cheeks. The man before her wasn't bluffing; he was a literal demon who ruled the streets of Milan and Genoa. Dante signaled with his hand. An associate drew a blackbladed folding dagger from inside his jacket. Alessia held her breath as the flash of cold steel neared her neck. Instead, Dante slid the blade between the ropes at her wrists and severed them in one swift motion. SNAP! The ropes fell away. Her bruised wrists were free, but her body was too weak to fight. One of Dante’s bodyguards shoved a thick piece of paper sealed with black wax and a gold pen into Alessia’s lap. "Sign it," Dante ordered coldly. With fingers trembling violently—raw and bruised from the ropes—Alessia gripped the gold pen. With a heart crushed by humiliation, she affixed her signature to the damned document. A contract of selfsale. "Good," Dante said, satisfied. He stood up, then turned toward Pietro, who was busy scooping up the cash from the suitcase. "Don Moretti, thank you! That woman is entirely yours now!" Pietro exclaimed with a sickening smile. Dante’s footsteps halted. He turned slowly, looking at Pietro with profound disgust. "I despise a man who sells his own daughter," Dante stated flatly. Before Pietro could process the words, Dante drew a silenced pistol from his jacket and shot both of Pietro’s knees without blinking. BANG! BANG! Pietro’s scream of agony shattered the silence of the warehouse. Fresh blood sprayed onto the concrete, causing Alessia to shriek hysterically and cover her ears. Dante holstered his weapon as if he had just brushed dust off his clothes. He stepped toward Alessia, and without warning, his sturdy hands slipped under her knees and back, lifting her into his arms as if she weighed nothing. "Leave him to rot here," Dante ordered his guards coldly, without a glance at Pietro, who was howling behind them. Alessia tried to struggle against his chest, which was hard as stone. "Let me go! You monster! You’re a demon!" Dante lowered his head, staring at Alessia from such a close distance that his warm breath brushed her neck. His hand gripped her waist possessively, pressing her body tightly against him. "You’re right, I am a demon," Dante whispered near her ear, making her skin crawl instantly. "And welcome to my hell, Alessia." He carried her out toward the black Maybach waiting outside. As the door shut tight, separating them from the outside world, Dante automatically locked it. Inside the dark, cramped cabin of the car, Dante boxed her in, cornering her against the leather seat. His hand reached up to circle her neck, his fingers tracing the pulse point that throbbed frantically with fear. "Now," Dante whispered raspily, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dark. "Let’s start paying off your debt."