Mine by blood and bullet

Chapter 3: The first rule

Morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting long golden beams across the black marble floors. Rori had barely slept. She’d spent most of the night curled up on the massive bed in one of Enzo’s oversized black shirts, staring at the city skyline and wondering how her life had shattered so completely in a single evening.

Now, dressed in soft grey lounge pants and a simple black sweater from the fully stocked closet, she stood in the kitchen area, watching Enzo move with predatory grace. He was already dressed for business — charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, no tie — looking every inch the dangerous underboss he was. Fresh coffee brewed on the counter, filling the space with a rich aroma that felt far too normal for her new reality.

“Sit,” Enzo commanded quietly, sliding a plate with eggs, toast, and fresh fruit toward her across the marble island.

Rori remained standing, arms crossed. “I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon,” he replied, unfazed. His dark eyes pinned her in place. “You will eat, Aurora. I won’t have you wasting away under my roof.”

She reluctantly slid onto the high stool, mostly because her stomach betrayed her with a quiet growl. Enzo watched her take the first bite with visible satisfaction before he spoke again.

“Today we establish the rules.”

Rori’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. “Rules,” she repeated bitterly. “Like I’m a pet you’ve brought home.”

Enzo leaned against the counter opposite her, sipping his espresso. The morning light sharpened the angles of his face, making the scar at his temple more prominent. “Rules keep you alive in my world. Disobey them and people die. Starting with your father.”

The threat landed heavily between them. Rori set her fork down, appetite gone.

“Rule One,” Enzo continued, voice calm and absolute. “You do not leave this penthouse without my explicit permission or an armed escort. The windows are reinforced. The elevator requires my fingerprint or Luca’s. Trying to run will only make things… unpleasant.”

Rori’s chest tightened. “So I’m your prisoner.”

“You’re my responsibility,” he corrected, eyes darkening. “And mine to protect. There are people who would use you against me the second they learned you exist. Victor Kane and his crew would love to get their hands on you.”

She remembered the name from whispered rumors at the diner. Another powerful player in the city’s underworld. Ruthless. Cruel.

“Rule Two,” Enzo went on. “No contact with your old life for now. No calls. No messages. Not even to Isabella. I will monitor everything until I’m sure it’s safe. Once I trust you, we can revisit this.”

Rori’s eyes stung with angry tears she refused to shed. “She’s my best friend. She’ll think something horrible happened to me.”

“Better she worries than she ends up with a bullet in her head because she asked too many questions.” His tone was ice-cold, but there was something protective beneath it. “I don’t make idle threats, little storm.”

Enzo’s POV:

She looked beautiful even when furious. Fire in those hazel eyes, cheeks flushed, small hands clenched into fists on the counter. Every defiant look from her only fed the growing obsession twisting inside his chest. He had claimed her as payment, but the truth was far more dangerous — he wanted her. Craved her presence like a drug. The thought of anyone else even speaking to her made his trigger finger itch.

She will learn to love this life. To love me. Or at least need me the way I already need her.

Rori’s POV:

His possessiveness should have terrified her. Instead, it created a confusing warmth low in her belly. No one had ever fought this hard to keep her safe — even if his version of safety looked like a golden cage. Still, she wasn’t some fragile doll he could lock away.

“Rule Three,” Enzo said, walking around the island until he stood directly in front of her. He tilted her chin up with two fingers, forcing eye contact. “No other man touches you. Ever. Not a handshake. Not a hug. Not even a lingering glance if I’m in the room. You are mine, Aurora Vale. Completely. Body, future, and loyalty.”

His thumb brushed her lower lip, sending unwanted sparks across her skin.

“And if someone does?” she challenged, voice barely above a whisper.

Enzo’s expression turned lethal. “Then they die. Slowly. I will make an example of them so the entire city understands that you are untouchable.”

The raw intensity in his voice made her shiver. This wasn’t a threat — it was a vow.

He leaned down until their faces were inches apart. “Say it.”

Rori swallowed hard. “Say what?”

“That you understand. That you belong to me.”

She stared into his dark eyes, heart hammering. Part of her wanted to spit defiance. Another part — the exhausted, overwhelmed, strangely drawn part — whispered that fighting him would only make everything worse.

“I… understand,” she said finally. “I belong to you.”

The words tasted like both defeat and surrender.

Enzo’s eyes flashed with dark satisfaction. Before she could react, he closed the distance and kissed her — not the bruising claim from last night’s tension, but a slower, deeper kiss that spoke of ownership and barely restrained hunger. One hand cupped the back of her neck, the other gripping her waist, pulling her closer until she was pressed against his hard body.

When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing harder.

“Good girl,” he murmured against her lips. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Rori touched her tingling lips, dazed. “You’re insane.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted with a ghost of a smile. “But I’m the insanity that will keep you alive.”

He stepped back, adjusting his suit jacket as if the kiss hadn’t just shaken her world. “Luca will be here soon. He’ll be your primary guard when I’m handling business. You’ll meet him today. Be nice — he’s one of the few people I actually trust.”

Rori nodded numbly, still processing everything.

Enzo paused at the edge of the kitchen, looking back at her with that intense, obsessive gaze. “One more thing, Aurora.”

She met his eyes.

“I don’t just want your obedience,” he said softly. “I want you. All of you. And I’m a very patient man when something matters to me. But make no mistake — I always get what I want.”

With that final possessive declaration, he headed toward his home office, leaving Rori alone with her racing thoughts and half-eaten breakfast.

She walked over to the windows and pressed her forehead against the cool glass, staring down at the city far below. Somewhere out there was her old life — her father, Isabella, the diner, her half-finished college classes.

All of it gone in one rainy night.

And in its place stood Enzo Rossi — the Reaper — who had bought her with blood money and now intended to keep her with bullets.

Worst of all?

A tiny, treacherous part of her was no longer entirely sure she wanted to escape.