His Dark Vow

Gunfire shattered the night. Adaora’s heels slapped the pavement as she ran, her lungs burning and her heart pounding so hard she could barely hear the chaos behind her. Lagos traffic blared, horns screamed, but nothing drowned out the sound of boots chasing her. She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t supposed to be near the abandoned docks on this side of Victoria Island. Her internship at the firm had run late, and she thought she could take a shortcut. One wrong turn, and she stumbled into hell. She’d seen it clearly—men exchanging packages under the glow of a flickering streetlamp. Cash. Weapons. And that tattoo, burned into her memory: a snarling wolf on the back of a man’s hand. The symbol whispered about in hushed tones at the courthouse. She froze when one of them noticed her. “Who’s there?” Adaora ran. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she dodged through alleys, heart hammering. She was nobody. A struggling law graduate who hadn’t even passed her bar exams yet. Why her? “Grab her!” a voice thundered behind her. A black SUV screeched across her path, headlights flooding her vision. She stumbled, shielding her eyes. The door swung open, and a man stepped out. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a suit that looked carved onto his frame. His face was all hard lines—high cheekbones, sharp jaw, lips pressed into a cruel line. But it was his eyes that froze her. Cold. Gray. Deadly. “Get in,” he ordered, voice deep, smooth, and absolute. Adaora’s chest rose and fell in sharp bursts. “Who—who are you?” He stepped closer, and for the first time, she noticed the men flanking him—armed, silent, shadows with guns. Her stomach lurched. She knew that face. She’d seen it in newspapers, whispered in corridors, and rumored in cases the courts never dared touch. Leonardo Moretti. Heir to the Moretti empire. Billionaire. Criminal. A man as feared as the devil himself. Adaora shook her head, trembling. “No—I don’t know anything. I didn’t see anything—” He moved faster than she expected. One second she was stumbling back, the next his hand was at her chin, tilting her face up until her eyes locked with his. “You saw enough,” he murmured, voice brushing against her skin like smoke. “Enough to ruin me. Enough to ruin you.” She tried to jerk away, but his grip tightened. “You want to live?” His gaze cut into hers like a blade. “Then congratulations, sweetheart. You just became my wife.” Adaora’s world tilted. For a heartbeat, she thought she’d misheard him. But the cold glint in his eyes told her he meant every word.