The Mafia's Bride

The city at night always felt different to Leah Cole. The streets were quieter, yes, but quieter wasn’t safer. Shadows lurked where the streetlights flickered, and every alley whispered stories she didn’t want to hear. She gripped the edge of the ambulance seat as the engine hummed beneath her, the tires rolling over potholes that had swallowed more than one unsuspecting car. “Another quiet night, I hope,” the driver muttered from the front seat, eyes scanning the darkened streets. Leah gave a short laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hope isn’t really a thing out here.” She glanced at her reflection in the window, tired, pale, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. The night shift was brutal, and after twelve hours, she felt every ache in her body like a reminder that she was still alive. The radio crackled, an ambulance dispatcher giving another routine report, but Leah barely listened. Her focus was on the streets, It was when she saw him. At first, she thought it was a man collapsed from alcohol or a mugging gone wrong. But as she got closer, her stomach twisted. He wasn’t just on the curb; he was bleeding. A lot. His shirt was torn, drenched in blood, and his eyes flickered open for a moment before rolling back. His breaths were shallow, desperate, weak. Leah’s hands went cold. She knew instinctively—he wouldn’t last long if she didn’t act fast. She drew the driver's attention to where the body was siren,the driver aggressively matched the brake pads rolling the ambulance to a stop, the tires screeching against the wet asphalt. “Help me with the stretcher” she said sharply, her voice steady despite the adrenaline racing through her veins. He obeyed instantly. The man barely moved as Leah ran to him, checking his pulse. Her gloved hands worked quickly, her training kicking in, rehearsed movements becoming life-saving choreography. They lifted him into the stretcher, then to the ambulance, ignoring the warm stickiness of his blood as she started disinfecting his wounds. “Hang on,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “Just hang on.” She began stitching a deep wound along his shoulder, the smell of iron and antiseptic sharp in her nose. She could feel his pulse, weak but alive, a flickering heartbeat that demanded she fight harder. After stitching up his injury, she used a bandage to wrap round his arm to his neck. “We're close to the hospital, you'll be fine, “ she said, reassuring him of his safety. “What have you done?” the patient asked Before she would answer his confusing question, then the sound came—footsteps. Heavy, deliberate. Men. Too many to be normal. Too precise to be random. Leah looked up, heart hammering. Shadows moved outside the ambulance windows. Her stomach dropped. “Who…who are they?” she whispered, almost to herself. Before the driver could answer, the first gunshot cracked the night. Glass shattered. Her hands froze, as the driver slumped, blood spreading across his uniform. “No!” Leah screamed, instinct kicking in again. She grabbed a knife trying to protect herself with it. The men surrounded them. Every instinct in her screamed to run, but there was no running. They would kill her if she tried. The wounded man stared weakly, coughing, but did not move. One of them stepped forward. A tall man, with a presence that made Leah’s chest tighten with fear. He didn’t speak at first, just stared. The cold in his eyes cut sharper than any knife. “Boss, we're here” he said while using his hand to choke Leah. “They came for you?,” Leah choked out, tears burning her cheeks. “Please…please don’t kill me. I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” One of the men spoke, his voice low, controlled, like a blade sliding through the air. “You’ve broken the rules,” he said. “You don’t belong here. And yet…you saved him.” Leah’s mind spun. “I—I saved him! He was dying!, I didn't know there was a rule, I'm sorry. I didn't see anything” He brought out a very sharp knife about to slit her throat. “Leave her alone” The man said She froze. Something in his tone made her stomach twist. She realized, suddenly, that this wasn’t about mercy. This was a law she didn’t understand—a law she couldn’t escape. Luca Russo, a mafia leader who she has just saved. “The only exception is if you marry me” he said These words pierced her heart Marriage? When I barely know him “You…you can’t do this,” she whispered, trembling. “I have a fiancé. He—he’s not involved in this. I’m not…” “You’re involved now,” he interrupted sharply. “And that's the only way for you to survive.” He stepped closer, and Leah flinched, heart hammering against her ribs. The words landed like a hammer. Leah felt dizzy, nausea rising in her throat. He repeated it, cold and steady. “Marry me. Or die.” Her hands shook. “I…can’t. I can’t marry you.” “Then you die,” he said simply, signaling to his men. Leah felt panic claw at her throat. Her eyes darted around, searching for something—anything—but there was nothing. She had nowhere to run. No one to save her. “Okay okay I'll marry you, just don't kill me” she begged as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Bring her,” he said finally.” We're getting married in a week” Leah’s mind raced. A week. One week until she was trapped. Her fiancé—Victor—her only thought of escape. She felt helpless, terrified, and angry all at once. They pulled her down the ambulance. Her life had changed in an instant. And as she struggled, fighting against the men. She realised that she had saved him, but had she just signed her own death warrant?.