The Don's Unwanted Prize

Ch 4: Lucas

The car ride was a slow descent into a reality I wasn’t ready for. The glass of Silas Vane’s SUV was so thick it felt like it was soundproofing the world, leaving me alone with the man who had just pointed a gun at my family. I slumped against the door, my head resting against the cool window, wishing the Xanax would kick in faster.

I kept my Ray-Bans on. They were my only shield. Behind the dark lenses, I could watch him without him seeing the terror in my eyes. He sat there like a king on a throne of black leather, perfectly still, while I felt like I was vibrating out of my skin.

"You can take the glasses off, Luca," he said. His voice wasn't loud, but it had the weight of a command.

I didn't move. I couldn't. "I like the view better this way," I slurred, my tongue feeling heavy. "It filters out the parts of this wedding I didn’t sign up for."

He didn't argue. He just reached out. For a second, I thought he was going to hit me. I flinched, pulling back into the seat, but he didn't raise a hand. Instead, he gripped my jacket. I could feel his knuckles against my chest, warm and terrifyingly steady.

With one sharp tug, he ripped the wire my father had forced me to wear right out of the lining. He looked at the little plastic device with such disgust that I felt it in my own soul. He flicked it out the window like it was nothing.

"Your father is a man of low imagination," he muttered.

When we finally pulled up to his estate, I didn't want to get out. Silas offered me his hand, but I ignored it. I tried to walk with my usual swagger, the "party boy" mask I always wore, but my legs were shaking so hard I nearly tripped.

I looked at the massive iron doors of the house. This wasn't a home. It was a prison. And as the door slammed shut behind us, I knew I was never coming out the same person I was when I went in.

I stood in the lobby, my boots clicking against the marble floor, waiting for the sounds of a normal household. I expected a butler to take my coat, a maid to offer a drink, or at least the distant hum of the kitchen staff.

Nothing.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. I tried to sound bored, but my heart was doing a frantic tap-dance against my ribs. The Xanax from earlier was wearing off, leaving me raw and exposed. “Did you kill the help, too, or do you just enjoy the ‘haunted house’ aesthetic?”

Silas didn’t even look at me as he strode across the marble. “I don’t like strangers in my space, Luca. Staff are witnesses. Witnesses are liabilities. I handle my own affairs.”

Great, I thought. No witnesses. No one to hear the screams. My hand moved instinctively toward my pocket, feeling for the small plastic container of pills. I needed another hit. The reality of this house, the cold steel, the sharp edges, the looming shadow of the man who now owned me was too much to face sober.

“Upstairs,” Silas commanded. “The master suite is at the end of the hall. Go. Now.”

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. My legs felt like they were made of lead as I climbed the grand staircase. I ducked into the bathroom, my hands shaking so hard I almost dropped the container. I fumbled with the cap, popped another pill, and swallowed it dry.

Just get through tonight, Luca, I told myself. Give him what he wants. Make it quick. Become the doll he expects, and maybe he’ll leave you alone.

I walked into the master bedroom, and the sheer scale of it made me feel even smaller. It was a cavern of greys and deep blacks. The massive windows looked out over the dark waters of Lake Michigan.

Silas was there, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that looked like they were carved from granite. He was standing by a small bar in the corner, pouring a glass of dark liquid. Bourbon, probably.

He didn’t look at me. He just stood there, a silhouette of power against the glass.

I realized then that silence was my enemy. In the South, there was always noise. Shouting, music, or the sound of things breaking. Here, I could hear my own blood rushing in my ears. The tension was a living thing, stretching between us until it was ready to snap.

I had to break it. I had to. I had to take control before he did. If my body were my only currency, I’d spend it all at once.

“Is this the part where you tell me to get on my knees?” I said, my voice dripping with forced finesse.

Silas turned, his grey eyes tracking me with a look of clinical boredom. He didn’t move as I approached him. He just watched, his glass held loosely in one hand.

I stopped inches from him, the scent of his cologne fruity-woody, and something dangerously cold filled my senses. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I touched the buttons of my own shirt. I began to undo them, one by one, exposing the pale skin of my chest.

“Let’s just get this over with, Silas,” I whispered, leaning into his space. I tilted my head back, offering my neck, my eyes half-opened. “You bought the South Side Prince. You won the war. Take your trophy. I’m sure you’ve been waiting for this since the church.”

I reached for the belt of my trousers, my breath hitching. I was terrified, but I masked it with a smirk I didn’t feel. “Don’t tell me the King of the North is shy?”

Silas didn’t move. He didn’t reach for me. He didn’t even breathe faster. He just stood there, looking at me like I was a particularly annoying insect.

Then, he moved.

He set his glass on the bar and gripped my wrists; his hands felt like iron shackles. He jerked my hands away from my waist and slammed them against the wall behind me, pinning me in place.

“Is that what you think this is?” he hissed, his face inches from mine. His eyes weren’t full of lust; they were full of a cold, terrifying fury. “You think you can just offer your body like a common w***e and I’ll be satisfied? You think you can seduce your way out of the fact that you’re a mess?”

“I’m giving you what you want!” I shouted back, the bravado cracking. “This is what everyone wants from me! Just take it and be done with it!”

“I don’t take leftovers from the South,” Silas growled. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing mine. “And I don’t touch men who can’t even look at me without being high out of their minds.”

He let go of one of my wrists and reached into my pocket, then the other one. My heart stopped.

“No…” I gasped, but it was too late.

He pulled out the plastic. He held it up to the light, the small white pills rattling inside like a death knell. His face went stone-cold. He looked at the bottle, then back at me, his eyes narrowing into slits.

“I told you,” he said, his voice a low, vibrating growl. “No drugs in my house. I told you that in the car, Luca. Do you think I make threats for the fun of it?”

“I need them!” I screamed, the panic finally breaking through the chemical fog. “Give them back! You don’t know what it’s like in my head! You don’t know!”

“I know exactly what you are,” Silas said. He walked over to the bathroom, dragging me by the arm. I stumbled, my boots slipping on the rug, as he pulled me toward the toilet.

“No! Silas, please!”

He didn’t listen. With a flick of his wrist, he popped the cap and dumped the entire stash into the bowl. I watched, horrified, as the white pills swirled in the water and disappeared with a single, brutal flush.

I felt like my soul had been flushed with them.

“There,” Silas said, turning back to me. He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Now you’re mine. All of you. No filters. No fog. You’re going to feel every second of being in this house, Luca. You’re going to feel the cold, you’re going to feel the silence, and you’re going to feel me.”

I stared at him, my vision beginning to blur. The second pill I’d taken was hitting me hard now, but instead of the usual numbness, it felt like a wave of nausea. The silence of the house suddenly felt too loud. The smell of his fruity-woody cologne was suffocating.

“I… I hate you,” I whispered, but my voice felt far away.

“Good,” Silas replied, his grip on my chin tightening. “Hate is real. Hate is honest. It’s the first real thing you’ve shown me all day.”

I tried to swallow, but my throat felt like it was closing up. A cold sweat broke across my forehead. The panic, the drugs, the rejection, and the sheer terror of being alone with this monster finally caught up to my body.

My stomach gave a violent, painful heave.

“Silas…” I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.

I didn’t even have time to turn away. The world went dark at the edges as I doubled over, my body betraying me in the most humiliating way possible.

I fell on my knees on the cold marble floor and vomited.

The sound echoed in the silent room, a wet, pathetic noise that stripped away the last of my dignity. I waited for the blow. I waited for him to kick me, to scream, to throw me out into the rain.

Instead, I felt a large, warm hand settle heavily on the back of my neck.

“Look at me, Luca,” Silas said. His voice was no longer angry. It was something worse. It was calm.

I looked up, tears streaming down my face, and saw him standing over me like a god of judgment.

“Welcome to the North,” he whispered.