Chapter 2: The Wolf’s Den
1042 Words
(Arianna’s POV)
The guest room was too quiet.
Soft sheets. Thick walls. Dim lights.
Too clean. Too safe.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door like it might open at any second.
Like Leo might step through again and end this silence with another offer I didn’t understand.
My knife lay beside me on the blanket.
He gave it back.
Why?
No one ever gives the blade back to the person who tried to kill them.
No one… except him.
I touched the scar beneath my ear.
It was burning again.
Not from pain — from memory.
He had seen it. Touched it.
That moment had felt like someone peeling open a wound I’d locked shut for years.
I hated that he looked at me like I was a person.
I hated that it made something inside me shake.
I looked around the room. It was beautiful in a cold way — like everything else in this mansion.
A place made for people who wore masks and smiled with knives in their hands.
I wasn’t one of them.
I was the blade they hired — not the hand that used it.
But now, I didn’t know what I was.
Not a killer.
Not yet a prisoner.
Something… else.
The bed creaked slightly as I stood.
Pacing calmed me. Mapped the walls. Marked every inch. Every window. Every lock.
Escape wasn’t impossible. Not yet.
But something about Leo’s offer held me still.
He didn’t ask for loyalty. He demanded it.
He didn’t threaten. He warned.
And that scared me more.
Because people like him didn’t lie with words.
They lied with silence.
Same as me.
Tap-tap.
A soft knock at the door.
I turned, instantly alert. My hand brushed my blade.
The door opened without waiting for my answer.
Of course.
The woman who entered was tall, slim, and moved like she owned the floor.
Blonde hair tied tight in a bun, red lipstick sharp like a wound.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
"The Don asked me to bring you to him," she said in a clipped voice.
"You’ll follow. Now."
I didn’t answer.
Just nodded once and followed her out.
The hallways were quieter now.
Guards stood still as statues. Eyes forward. But I knew they were watching me.
Always watching.
I walked like I wasn’t afraid.
Even if my thoughts raced.
We passed rooms filled with heavy paintings and quiet whispers.
This mansion was a maze. A kingdom.
Leo’s kingdom.
And I had stepped into it — not as a soldier. Not as a queen.
As a threat.
The woman led me into a large room with a long table, thick chairs, and walls made of glass and wood.
Leo was already inside.
He was sitting at the far end of the table, sleeves rolled up, scarred hand resting beside a folder.
His eyes found me the second I stepped in.
I didn’t flinch.
"Sit," he said simply, nodding to the chair across from him.
I moved slowly, sat without sound.
The woman left, closing the door behind her with a sharp click.
Now we were alone again.
Same eyes. Same silence.
Leo leaned forward, sliding the folder toward me.
Inside were photos. Names. Files.
Targets.
"These men tried to kill me two weeks ago," he said, voice calm.
"They failed. But not for long."
I looked at the first photo. A man in his 40s, wide face, expensive watch.
Leo continued, his voice steady like a knife being sharpened.
"I want to know which one of them hired you."
I didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
He wasn’t stupid.
He knew I wouldn’t talk.
But he also knew I was listening.
Watching.
And weighing.
"I’ve already narrowed it down to two," he added, sipping from a glass of something dark and expensive.
"But I want your instinct."
I looked up at him.
He wasn’t asking for information.
He was testing me.
Testing if I’d choose a side.
If I’d help him.
If I’d break.
I picked up the first photo.
Looked into the printed eyes of a man who probably gave the order to end Leo Bianchi’s life from behind a gold desk.
Then I looked at the second one.
I closed the folder without pointing to either.
Leo watched me. Quiet. Calm. A fire just behind his eyes.
"So… you’re not ready to choose yet," he said softly.
He stood.
"Fine."
He walked around the table slowly.
I turned in my chair to face him, every muscle alert.
But again, he didn’t attack.
Didn’t touch.
Just stood behind me, close enough that I felt the heat of him.
"You’re used to being used," he said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Used to obeying orders. Living in cages. Following threats."
His breath touched the back of my neck.
I sat still.
"But this is different," he said.
"This time, you choose."
I swallowed.
Once.
Slowly.
"I don’t care who trained you," Leo continued.
"I don’t care what they broke inside you."
He leaned down, his voice like a promise:
"If you want to survive here, you’ll be mine. My blade. My shadow. No one else."
My heart beat once. Loud.
I turned my head slightly to look at him.
He was serious.
And worse — he was right.
I had no one.
No master. No handler. No safety net.
The second I walked away, I was dead.
But if I stayed…
Would I still be me?
---
Later, I stood in front of a mirror in a small room they gave me — different from the guest room.
More secure. Less welcoming.
I stared at my reflection.
Same face.
Same cold eyes.
Same silent mouth.
But something was changing behind my eyes.
The girl who once took orders… she was cracking.
The woman in the mirror? She was learning something new.
Control.
Leo hadn’t forced me to choose.
He was letting me.
And that was more dangerous than any threat.
Because part of me — the part that had been buried deep under blood and silence —
wanted to choose this.
Wanted to stay.
Wanted to find out why the most feared man I’d ever met hadn’t killed me…
…but offered me power instead.
- Writer
