The Mafia’s Only Collateral

CHAPTER 3 Puzzle, Prey, or Promise

The ride is silent, heavy, thick with tension you could chew apart. I sit wedged between Declan and Mateo in the back of the black SUV, legs crossed tight, arms folded firm over my stomach — guarding, steady, unshaken. Outside, streetlights blur into streaks of gold and grey; inside, every breath feels measured, every glance loaded.

Declan’s thigh presses hard against mine — deliberate, claiming — his arm resting along the back of the seat right behind my shoulders, boxing me in without even touching me fully. Every so often his gaze drops sharp to my waist, jaw clenching hard, knuckles white where he grips the leather. He’s still burning with that same dark fury — not pity, never pity — pure rage that I exist, that I’m carrying something I didn’t ask for, that my deadbeat dad dumped this whole mess right into his lap… and now I’ve got another life tangled up in it.

“You think you’re clever, hiding it?” His voice rumbles low, rough, vibrating through the space between us. “Walking around acting tough, keeping secrets… thinking you could slip through the cracks, vanish before anyone noticed. You thought wrong. Nothing gets past me. Especially not something this big.”

I turn my head, meet his storm-dark eyes straight on, chin lifted high, tone cool and biting. “I wasn’t hiding it from you. I was hiding it from everyone. It’s mine. Mine alone. Just like the rest of me. And you don’t get to act like you’ve got some right to every single thing I’ve ever kept close.”

He leans in closer, heat rolling off him thick and heavy, breath brushing my cheek. “You’re collateral, Lila. Everything you are, everything you have, everything you carry — it’s all tied to the debt your family owes. That baby? It’s part of the package now. You think being pregnant makes you untouchable? Makes you safe? It makes you more mine. Tighter bound. You’re not going anywhere. Not ever.”

Across the car, Elias sits forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on me — bright, sharp, curious, like he’s tracing every line of my face, every flicker of expression, every set of my shoulders. He watches me like I’m a riddle he’s desperate to crack, every sharp word I throw only making him lean in further.

“Three months,” he murmurs, soft and precise, like he’s fitting pieces together out loud. “Right around the time your dad vanished. Right around when you stopped showing up anywhere regular. You went quiet. You went into hiding. Someone hurt you, didn’t they? Someone left you with this… and you’ve been carrying it alone ever since.”

My fingers curl tight into my sleeve, knuckles white, but my face stays smooth, hard, unreadable. “I’ve been hurt by plenty of people. That’s what happens when you grow up in care — you learn early nobody’s coming to save you. And nobody gets to dig through my history like it’s yours to pick apart. Not you. Not any of you.”

Silas — up front beside the driver — twists round in his seat, that rough, hungry smirk still plastered across his face, eyes raking over me like he’s already calculating exactly how much it’ll take to wear me down. He looks at me like I’m something solid he wants to smash just to see what’s underneath.

“All that fire… all that attitude,” he drawls, voice thick and rough, mocking and interested all at once. “Bet it won’t last long. Bet once the doors lock and you realise you really are stuck here — no escape, no help, no one coming — that tough little act starts to crack. You’re already carrying extra weight, sweetheart. That baby’s gonna drain you. Wear you out. Make you soft. Make you break.”

I laugh — short, sharp, loud and bright in the quiet car — and lean forward just enough to lock eyes with him, grin sharp and dangerous. “Keep dreaming, Silas. I’ve carried worse than a baby. I’ve carried years of people like you telling me I’d fold, I’d break, I’d beg. I’m still here. Still standing. And I’ll be damned if you or anyone else gets to decide when I finally fall.”

Silas’s smirk widens — sharper now, darker — like I’ve just handed him exactly the challenge he’s been craving.

And then there’s Mateo.

He hasn’t moved. Hasn’t made a sound. Sits perfectly still right beside me, broad frame steady, dark eyes never leaving my face — not once. He doesn’t glare, doesn’t smirk, doesn’t argue. He just watches. Every shift, every breath, every tiny movement I make to shield my stomach. He sees how I hold myself up, how I don’t lean back, how I don’t shrink away. He studies me like I’m something rare, something complicated — not something to break, not something to solve… just something to know. For a second our eyes lock, and something passes between us — quiet, heavy, unspoken — and I realise: out of all of them, he’s the one who sees me clearest. He knows I’m not broken. He knows I’m fighting. And he says nothing at all.

When we pull up outside the house — huge, stone, high walls, iron gates, secure as a fortress — Declan’s hand wraps firm around my upper arm, guiding me out, fingers tight but never cruel, always claiming. He walks me through grand halls, past heavy doors, up wide stairs, every step a reminder: you’re inside now. You’re ours.

He leads me into a spacious room — warm, private, soft furnishings, a lock on the door — and turns me round to face him, blocking the exit, looming tall and impossible to move past.

“This is your room now,” he states, absolute and final. “You stay here. You don’t leave without one of us with you. You don’t wander. You don’t try to run. Every door, every window — watched. Every move you make — known. You belong here now, Lila. And you belong to me.”

I step right up to him, chest nearly touching his, and stare straight up into his furious, possessive face — unafraid, unbowed, fierce as ever.

“I’m staying here because I have no choice,” I tell him, voice clear and steady as steel. “Not because I belong to you. Not because I’m yours. And don’t you ever forget it, Declan Vance. You can lock me in rooms, you can watch every step I take… but you can’t own me. You can’t break me. And you sure as hell won’t ever control who I am.”

He leans down, face inches from mine, dark eyes blazing — half fury, half something far deeper, far more dangerous — and his voice drops to a low, dangerous growl.

“We’ll see, Lila. We’ll see how long you keep that fire burning… when you realise you’ve got nowhere left to go but here.”

I tilt my head, smile sharp and unyielding, and whisper right back:

“Watch me.”