Claimed by the Devil’s Hands

Sophie met the man she should never have married on a night that was supposed to be peaceful, a classical concert that turned into chaos. Gunshots echoed through the hall, sending the audience into panic. She had no idea what was happening, only that one group seemed to be hunting another in the middle of the terrified crowd. Some people managed to escape while others were trapped inside, hiding behind chairs and pillars as stray bullets tore through the air. In the middle of the panic, Sophie saw him. A tall, broad-shouldered man whose presence stood out even amid the fear. There was something magnetic about him, dangerous yet compelling. But this was not the time to think about that. She needed to survive. Sophie crouched behind a row of seats, right beside him. She could hear his heavy breathing. “What do we do?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The man turned toward her, as if just realizing she was there. He said nothing. Suddenly, more gunfire erupted, closer this time. Sophie gasped and, without thinking, grabbed his hand. “Argh…” he hissed under his breath. She looked down and saw blood. “You’re hurt? Did you get shot?” “Be quiet. Stay behind me,” he said sharply. A few minutes later, the gunfire stopped. One of the groups got a phone call and rushed out, probably because the police had arrived. Sophie peeked from behind the seats. Bodies were scattered across the floor. “They’re gone. You should go,” he said, trying to stand. “You’re injured,” Sophie protested, holding onto him. He groaned in pain. “Damn it.” “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “You need help. Let me take you to a hospital.” “I can’t. I’m not supposed to go there. I need to leave now,” he said firmly. Sophie hesitated. “I’m just a psychiatrist, but I can help. The police are already here. You’re safe. Let me treat you first.” She helped him out of the hall and brought him to her apartment. She had lived alone for years since moving out of her parents’ house. “You’re fine now,” Sophie said after bandaging the wound. “Luckily it’s just a graze. I thought you were shot.” “Thank God.” He gave a faint smile. Sophie had no idea who she was helping that night. She didn’t know that the man in her living room was the reason behind the chaos at the concert. His name was Damien DeLuca, a powerful businessman and the head of the most feared crime organization in Italy. He was a monster hiding behind expensive suits and a cold smile. From that night on, Damien became obsessed with her. He set a trap to make her his. He destroyed Sophie’s family business, drove them into crippling debt, and pushed her father to the edge of ruin. In the end, there was only one way to save her family: surrender to him. * * * Sophie looked into Damien DeLuca’s eyes, trembling as the words left her lips like a death sentence. “I’ll marry you.” That was the moment her worst nightmare became real, becoming the wife of the man who had destroyed her life just to protect her family. When their eyes met again, the darkness behind Damien’s beautiful gaze was even more menacing than before. His hair was dark brown, his jaw sharp, his presence intimidating in its perfection. The tailored suit fit him too well, designed to flaunt power and control. His face, with aristocratic lines and pale brown eyes that held no warmth, could have been mistaken for angelic if not for the cruelty hiding beneath. Damien DeLuca was a devil trapped in an angel’s body. He still wore a small earring, but now a thick skull ring gleamed on his finger. The jewelry didn’t scare her, but the cruel smile on his lips did. Her heart almost stopped. Once, she might have been drawn to that smile if he hadn’t been a cold-blooded monster. She could still hear his voice echoing in her head, a mix of threat and obsession. “Sophie! I’ll find you! You hear me? I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth if I have to!” He didn’t have to go that far. Damien only needed to strike where it hurt most, by threatening her family. That devilish smile now made her entire body tremble. Her father’s eyes filled with tears as he whispered, “Sophie, you don’t have to do this, please.” Damien stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her like the barrel of a gun. Sophie lifted her chin, swallowing her fear as she faced the truth. He looked taller than she remembered and far more terrifying. He was ruthless, depraved, merciless, and undeniably strong. “What’s the meaning of this?” a deep voice shouted. Damien’s father, Mr. DeLuca, grabbed Sophie’s arm roughly. “Are you trying to disgrace us?” His grip was painful. Behind him, Mrs. DeLuca stood with a cold, piercing glare. “This girl needs to be taught a lesson for her insolence,” she said cruelly. Sophie’s eyes widened. “Please, don’t!” someone shouted. Sophie knew that voice before she even turned. Her mother stood there, her face pale with fear. “Sophie has nothing to do with this! Damien can punish us, not her. That was the deal!” Damien smiled faintly, but it was a blade more than a smile. “And I asked for your daughter in return,” he said in a low, cold tone. “She’ll pay with herself.” Mr. DeLuca’s face turned red with rage. He reached for the gun on his belt. “You dare defy your own family?” he roared, pulling Sophie toward him, but froze when a sharp click cut through the air. Sophie held her breath, terror flooding her chest. “Don’t touch her.” Damien’s voice was calm but sharp enough to make everyone turn. Mr. DeLuca’s face twisted when he saw that his own son was pointing a gun at him. This family was terrifying, even to those who were used to blood. “Please,” Sophie whispered. “Don’t do this.” “Damien,” his father growled through clenched teeth. “This is not the time for feelings.” “It’s the perfect time,” Damien said quietly. “And I’ve made my choice.” The room fell silent. The air grew heavy. “You’re choosing to betray your father for a girl like her?” Mrs. DeLuca spat. “You could have anyone, and you choose this?” Sophie stayed still, though the words stung. She knew if she said anything, she might not survive. The way Damien held the gun, steady and cold, was enough to keep everyone frozen. “Let her go,” Damien growled. His voice was low but filled with fury. His eyes burned with something wild and dangerous. Mrs. DeLuca’s fingers dug into Sophie’s arm before she shoved her toward Damien. “Fine. Do as you wish. But don’t expect me to fix your mess.” She stormed out of the room in anger. Sophie almost lost her balance, but her father grabbed her shoulder roughly. His voice was sharp and cold. “Sophie,” he said bitterly. “You were foolish enough to accept their proposal and then tried to run. What now?” She swallowed hard, looking at Damien, who had lowered his gun and extended his hand. Behind him, her mother was shaking her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. But Sophie knew she had no choice left. “I have to take responsibility for my decision,” she said softly. She stepped forward and placed her hand in Damien’s. The moment their skin touched, a jolt ran through her arm, stealing her breath. “Think about this, Sophie!” her mother cried, her voice breaking. But Damien was already leading her away, his grip firm and unyielding. They walked down the hallway toward the grand ballroom where the wedding guests were waiting. That cruel smile returned to his face. “You made the right choice,” he said coldly. His words hit like a slap, but Sophie said nothing. For her family, she swallowed her fear. “The guests expect a proper ceremony,” Damien said. He led her through a side door, followed by his guards moving silently behind them. His wicked game had finally become real. Sophie had no choice but to surrender. She glanced at the glass wall of the hall and caught her reflection, a woman in a shimmering white gown walking with her head held high and tears in her eyes. “Smile,” Damien murmured, his tone commanding. “You look beautiful.” Sophie forced a faint smile, even as her heart broke. This should have been the happiest day of her life, but all she felt was cold emptiness. Damien’s dark gaze wrapped around her like a chain. Still, she kept walking, passing her parents who could only bow their heads as their daughter was handed to the devil. The crown waiting for her was not a symbol of joy. It was a crown of thorns waiting to tear her apart piece by piece. And with every step she took, Damien’s smile grew wider. He knew he would savor every second of breaking her freedom, the freedom she once fought so hard to protect, now the price she had to pay.