SOLD TO SIN

Episode 9: She’s Not Yours

ARIA’S POV

Obsidian Tower, Penthouse — 9:17 AM

I owned three things.

A tank top.

A pair of ripped jeans.

And a debt with Enzo’s name on it.

“Enzo, I don’t have underwear.”

I said it loud. In the kitchen. In front of Chiara, who was sharpening a knife like it was breakfast. In front of Dante, who choked on his coffee. In front of Silas, who didn’t choke because Silas doesn’t do human things like breathing.

Chiara whistled. “She’s not wrong, fratello. The girl smells like a hostage and your bad decisions.”

Enzo didn’t look up from his laptop. Black shirt. Bandage under it. Blood from last night. His blood. From stepping in front of me. From still loving a ghost.

“Buy her something,” he said.

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” I held up the black AmEx he’d never actually given me. “But your attack dog won’t let me go alone.”

“I’m not a dog,” Chiara said, flipping the knife. “I’m worse. I’m the one who tells him when you get kidnapped.”

When. Not if.

Enzo’s jaw ticked.

He finally looked at me.

Green eyes. Tired. Bloodshot. And for one second — one stupid, breakable second — I saw it.

Guilt.

“One hour,” he said. “Dante tracks the car. You check in every fifteen minutes.”

“No Silas,” Chiara cut in. “Silas scares the salesgirls. I’ll go.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t say be careful.

He didn’t say mine.

He didn’t say anything.

And that silence? It cut deeper than Lucia’s name. CHIARA’S POV

5th Avenue — 10:42 AM

I liked her.

The debt.

Aria.

She had a mouth on her and no fear in her eyes. Not even when she told my brother she had no underwear in front of six armed men.

Respect.

I shoved an emerald dress at her. Silk. Backless. His color. “This. It’ll piss him off.”

“Why would I want to do that?” She held it up, eyebrow raised. Not scared. Curious.

“Because he’s miserable. And miserable men are honest.” I leaned on the rack. “He hasn’t slept since you sweated his fever out.”

Her cheeks went pink. Good. She cared.

“He told you?” she asked.

“He didn’t have to. Dante saw you. On him. Tank top. Skin-to-skin.” I smirked. “Very medical.”

Before she could murder me with that look, the lights died.

Then glass shattered.

Then a bag went over her head.

I had my knife out before the first guy hit the floor.

“Aria!” I screamed.

Gunshot.

Pain.

My arm.

I went down.

And they took her.

Fuck. ENZO’S POV

Obsidian Tower, War Room — 12:17 PM

The video came through in 4K.

I watched it once.

Aria. Tied to a chair. Lip split. Blood on her teeth. Saying nothing.

I watched it again.

Then I put my fist through the monitor.

Glass in my knuckles. I didn’t feel it.

Chiara stood in the corner. Arm in a sling. Face cut. She’d fought. She’d lost.

“Three men,” she said. Voice steady. De Santis steady. “Military. They were waiting. She didn’t—”

“Where.”

One word.

That’s all I had left.

The door opened.

Lucia.

Black dress. Hair perfect. Eyes wide. Playing the angel she buried five years ago.

“Enzo, I just heard—”

I was in front of her before she finished.

Not touching.

But if looks could kill, she’d be dead twice.

“You set her up.”

“What? No—”

“You told them she was going shopping. You told them she had no guards. You told them she was the key.”

Her face crumpled. “I was trying to protect you—”

“By getting her killed?”

“By getting you back! You took a bullet for her! You let her—”

“She saved my life.”

“So did I!”

“No.” I pulled a phone from my pocket. Hit play.

Vito’s voice filled the war room.

“She’s good. Lucia. Better than the debt. And she’s pregnant. Says it’s his. But it’s mine. Don’t tell the boss. Yet.”

Silence.

Lucia’s mouth opened. Closed.

No sound came out.

Chiara was the first to move.

She crossed the room and punched Lucia in the face.

Lucia hit the floor.

Didn’t get up.

“Get her out,” I said. “Before I change my mind.”

Dante and Marco dragged her.

She screamed my name.

I didn’t listen.

I looked at the screen. Frozen on Aria’s face.

Blood. Defiant. Mine.

And I knew two things:

1. I was going to kill everyone in that warehouse. 2. If she died, I’d burn the city down after. ROMAN’S POV

Red Hook — Outside the Warehouse — 1:03 PM

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

I was new. Security. Background check. Ex-military. Hired three days ago.

I was supposed to watch the perimeter.

Not go in.

But I heard her scream.

Not words. Just sound. Raw. Breaking.

And I moved.

Because Chiara said, “She’s not glass. She’s not a bomb.”

But she was something.

And she was his.

And if she died, he’d die too.

Not body. Soul.

I kicked the side door.

Two men down before they saw me.

Third one got a shot off.

Missed.

I didn’t.

I found her in the back.

Chair. Rope. Blood.

And Vito Marino with a knife to her throat.

“Drop it or she dies!” he screamed.

I raised my hands. “Easy. I’m not—”

The main door exploded.

And he walked through hell.

Lorenzo De Santis.

No suit. No shirt. Just black pants, a gun, and rage.

He didn’t look at me.

Didn’t have to.

He saw her.

And the world stopped. ARIA’S POV

Warehouse — 1:05 PM

Vito’s knife was at my throat.

Then Roman was there.

Then the door exploded.

Then he was there.

Enzo didn’t talk.

He shot.

Vito’s hand exploded. Knife clattered.

Enzo was across the room in two steps.

He didn’t shoot again.

He used his hands.

It took three seconds.

Vito stopped breathing.

Then Enzo was at the chair. Cutting ropes.

I fell.

He caught me.

“You’re okay,” he said. Not a question. A demand. “Tell me you’re okay.”

I couldn’t talk.

I nodded.

He picked me up.

Like I weighed nothing.

Like I was everything.

His eyes found Roman.

Roman was bleeding. Graze on his arm. From the shot that missed.

“You good?” Enzo asked him.

Roman nodded. “She’s breathing. That’s all that matters.”

Enzo stared at him. One second. Two.

Then: “You’re with me now.”

Not a request.

An order.

Roman nodded. “Yes, boss.” CHIARA’S POV

Obsidian Tower, Medical Wing — 4:22 PM

I was stitching Roman’s arm.

Not because I had to.

Because I wanted to.

He didn’t flinch. Ex-military. Used to worse.

“You took a hit for her,” I said. Needle in. Needle out.

“She’s a civilian.”

“She’s his.”

Roman looked at me. Gray eyes. Calm. “She’s not a thing.”

No. She wasn’t.

And that was the problem.

Lucia walked in.

I had my knife at her throat before she took two steps.

“Get out,” I said. “Before I finish what I started.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucia whispered. Looking at Aria, not me. “For everything. For Vito. For the warehouse. For...” Her eyes dropped to Aria’s wrists. Rope burns. Still red. “For him.”

“Don’t.” Aria’s voice was ice.

“Enzo loves you,” Lucia said. “I see it. And I hate it. But I see it.”

“You don’t get to say his name,” I said.

“I’m pregnant.”

The room went dead.

Roman stood. Slow. Deliberate. Putting himself between Aria and her. Again.

I looked at Lucia. Then at Aria. Then back at Lucia.

“You’re lying,” I said.

“I’m not.” Lucia’s hand shook on her stomach. “It’s his. From the night I came back. He was drugged. He doesn’t remember. But we—”

“He was with me,” Aria said.

It came out before she could stop it.

Loud. Raw. True.

Lucia flinched. “He was with Nyx first. Then—”

“He was with me,” Aria said again. She stepped forward. “All night. Bleeding. Burning. Mine.”

The word tasted like blood.

Because it wasn’t true.

Not yet.

“You’re wrong,” Enzo said from the doorway.

We all turned.

He stood there. Black shirt. No bandage. The bullet wound from Salvatore? Gone. Skin smooth. Like it never happened.

But his eyes—

Too green. Too bright.

“It’s not mine,” Enzo said. Looking at Lucia. “The baby. It’s not mine.”

Lucia shook her head. “Enzo, please—”

“I didn’t touch you.”

“You were drugged—”

“I remember everything.”

His voice dropped. And the room got cold.

Not metaphorically.

Literally cold.

My breath fogged.

Roman stepped closer to Aria. “Boss?”

Enzo blinked.

The cold stopped.

The light in his eyes dimmed.

“I remember everything,” he said again. Quieter. “And I wasn’t with you.”

Lucia ran.

I let her go.

But I looked at Enzo.

And I saw it.

Fear.

Not of Lucia.

Of himself. ARIA’S POV

Hallway — 12:02 AM

Chiara was waiting.

Leaning on the wall. Arms crossed. No knife. For once.

“He told you?” she asked.

“About what?”

“About the blood. About why he heals. About why the room gets cold.”

I stopped. “You know?”

“I’m his sister, cara. I was there when it started.” She pushed off the wall. “He’s scared he’ll hurt you. That’s why he’s mean. That’s why he pushes.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” She stepped closer. “Because he took a bullet for you. He killed for you. He burned for you. And you’re still looking at Roman like he’s safe.”

I flinched. “Roman’s my friend.”

“I know.” Chiara sighed. “And he’s a good man. That’s why it’ll kill him when Enzo finally snaps and reminds everyone who you belong to.”

“He doesn’t own me.”

“No,” Chiara said. Soft. “But you own him. And that’s worse.”

She walked away.

And I stood there.

Thinking of green eyes.

Thinking of I’m not going to ask you to say you’re mine.

Thinking of il sangue del diavolo.

And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of the monster.

I was afraid of being the reason he became one.