Blood & Vows

The Cage And The Crown

The car ride felt endless.

Ivy kept her back pressed against the far door, every muscle wound tight like a coiled spring. She tracked Luca De Rossi’s every movement, memorizing details—his calm posture, the faint scar across his knuckles, the way he tapped a rhythm on his thigh as if already calculating the next move.

The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, and Ivy’s mind raced just as fast. How had they gotten her past security? Past her father’s guards? No ransom call had come yet. Was this political leverage, or something far worse?

Finally, the car slowed. Gravel crunched under the tires as they pulled through a tall wrought-iron gate crowned with intricate designs—an ornate “D” entwined with thorns. De Rossi.

The mansion they approached was the opposite of her family’s gilded estate. It loomed like a fortress—stone walls, high towers, windows like watchful eyes. Beautiful in the way a viper might be beautiful: dangerous, precise, and coiled to strike.

The door jerked open. Luca stepped out first, turning to offer a hand as if they were attending a gala together rather than dragging her deeper into captivity. Ivy glared at him and climbed out on her own, chin lifted in defiance.

Inside, the house swallowed her whole. Dark marble floors, crimson rugs, and a chilling silence that felt like it had soaked into the walls over decades of violence.

"This way," Luca said, motioning toward a hallway.

Ivy hesitated for a beat. She thought about running—but one look at the silent guards stationed like statues in every shadow killed that idea.

They led her to a room on the second floor: large, elegant, but unmistakably a prison. The windows were barred with intricate black ironwork, beautiful but unbreakable. The only door clicked ominously behind her.

"This is where you'll stay," Luca said. His voice was unreadable. "For now."

"For how long?" Ivy demanded, crossing her arms.

He smiled then—a cold, wolfish thing that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Until my father decides what to do with you."

The truth hit harder than any slap: she was a pawn, not even worthy of Luca's personal interest. Just a tool in a larger, bloodier game.

"You won’t get away with this," Ivy said, forcing steel into her voice. "My family will come for me."

Luca stepped closer, so close she could smell the faint traces of expensive cologne and danger clinging to his skin.

"Of course they will," he murmured. "That’s the point."

For a heartbeat, their gazes locked. Ivy saw something flicker behind his cool mask—regret, perhaps, or a flicker of humanity—but it vanished so fast she wondered if she imagined it.

He turned away, striding toward the door.

"I’ll have someone bring you clothes and food," he said without looking back. "You should get some rest."

The door clicked shut, locking her inside the gilded cage.

Ivy stood alone in the center of the room, her heart hammering against her ribs. Outside the barred window, the night stretched endless and merciless.

She was no fool.

This wasn’t just about money. It wasn’t even about power.

This was about crowns—the invisible ones worn by kings and queens of blood-soaked empires. And tonight, Ivy Marcelli had been stolen from her ivory tower and dropped into the pit.

The game had begun.

And if she wanted to survive, she would have to play it better than anyone else.