The rain tapped against the cracked windowpane, its soft rhythm, the only kindness Luna had ever known in this house. She sat curled up in the farthest corner of her tiny room, knees hugged to her chest as the familiar weight of dread settled deep in her bones. Tonight was different. Tonight, she wasn't just an inconvenience-she was a commodity.
Her stepmother's words still rang in her ears.
"You should be grateful, girl. A man like him wouldn't look twice at someone like you."
Grateful.
How could she be grateful for being sold off like livestock?
Her fingers traced the bruises along her arms - shadows of punishments past. The fresh cut on her lip still stung from earlier when she had dared to question them. A slap had silenced her, but not before she had seen the gleam of satisfaction in her stepfather's eyes.
They had always hated her.
She wasn't their daughter - just an unwanted burden left behind after her mother's death. From the moment they took her, they made it clear she was nothing more than a servant in their home, a punching bag when they were angry and a ghost when they weren't.
Luna had learned early on that silence was her best defence. That if she moved carefully, spoke quietly, and never met their eyes, maybe—just maybe—she could escape their wrath for another day. But it never lasted. There was always another punishment waiting.
The scars on her ribs told stories of belt lashes for speaking out of turn. The burns on her wrist whispered of the time she spilt tea on the expensive rug. And the bruises on her thighs reminded her of the nights she couldn’t run fast enough.
Now, they had found a new way to be rid of her.
A contract. A deal with the devil himself.
Dante Valentino.
She had heard his name before—whispered in fearful hushes. An Italian mafia leader with no heart, no mercy. He was the kind of man people crossed themselves before speaking of, the kind of man who could make her stepfather tremble. And now, he owned her.
A choked sob slipped from her lips, but she covered her mouth quickly. Crying wouldn’t help. It never did.
Footsteps thundered down the hall. The lock on her door rattled, and she shrank back instinctively. The door swung open, revealing her stepfather’s hulking figure. His lips curled into a sneer.
"Get up," he spat. "Time to meet your new owner."
Owner.
Her heart pounded so violently she thought it might shatter.
This was it. There was no escape.
She was being handed over to the devil, and she didn’t know if it would be worse than the hell she was leaving behind—or if it was just another prison with a different name.
But deep inside, beneath the fear and the pain, a single, desperate thought burned.
If she had to belong to the devil… maybe she could learn how to survive him.
Dante Valentino leaned against the doorframe, his sharp gaze cutting through the dimly lit room. His eyes roamed over the girl standing before him. She was young—too young, if he were to be honest. Fragile, delicate, like porcelain that could shatter with the slightest touch.
He didn't care for weak things. Weakness was something he despised. In this world of power, fear, and blood, he had no time for softness. And yet, there was something about her that pulled at the edges of his control.
Her skin was pale, nearly translucent in the harsh light of the room, and her hair—a mess of dark curls—fell in a cascade over her shoulders. She barely lifted her head when she entered the room, eyes glued to the floor, as if she were afraid of what she might see.
His gaze narrowed. She was so obviously terrified, her body rigid, hands clasped together as if to hold herself together. It was a familiar sight—he had seen fear in the eyes of many before, but something about her was different.
Dante wasn't sure what it was. She wasn't his type. He didn't need some trembling, pretty thing to distract him. He had the world at his feet, and he didn't need a woman to complicate it. Still, his gaze lingered on her as she shifted nervously, her bare feet silent against the cold marble floor.
She was a contract, an agreement made long before her birth. Her father had fallen into debt, and her stepparents, greedy and desperate, had sold her to him for a price. Money, control, power.
She was just another pawn.
But God, how fragile she seemed.
A soft breath escaped her lips as her wide, terrified eyes flickered up to meet him for the briefest of moments. There was a raw vulnerability there, an innocence that shouldn't belong in the world Dante had built for himself. He didn't deal in innocence. He didn't deal in weakness.
Yet, his mind couldn't quite erase the image of her—small, shaking, barely holding herself together.
"I hope you're not planning on crying," Dante's voice was cold, businesslike, but even to his own ears, it sounded detached. He couldn't afford to let her see the stirrings of something else that had risen within him—a stirring he refused to acknowledge.
Luna flinched, the slight movement of her body a clear sign of the fear she tried so hard to hide. Her head dipped even lower, and she pressed her hands tighter together, as if trying to hold herself from falling apart.
"No, sir," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Dante studied her, intrigued by the fact that she wasn't on her knees, begging. She wasn't pleading for mercy. Instead, she stood there, trembling, her fear palpable but contained. The moment made him feel something that should have been buried long ago—a pang of something soft. Something he hadn't allowed himself to feel for years.
It disgusted him.
She was nothing more than a bargain. He had bought her, and that made her his property—no emotions, no attachments.
"Good," he said, keeping his tone flat, his eyes still locked on her. "You don't need to be reminded of your place."
Her eyes flinched again at his words, but she nodded, as if she had learned the hard way not to defy anyone who held power over her.
Dante straightened from the doorframe, his gaze shifting over her form. He was supposed to look at her like any other business transaction, but there was a flicker—something raw and real—in her frightened expression that caught him off guard. It was that vulnerability he couldn't quite look away from.
She was a pawn. That's all she was.
Still, he couldn't help but wonder—just for a moment—how long it would take before the light in those wide eyes dimmed completely. How long it would take before he broke her completely, until she was just like the others—empty, numb, ready to obey.
It didn't matter. He didn't care.
But why, then, did his chest feel like it was tightening every time she shifted her gaze, every time she flinched?
Luna was his now.
He would own her, and she would become another part of his empire—her beauty, her fear, and whatever was left of her innocence would all belong to him.
He turned on his heel, signaling for her to follow.
"Come with me," he said coldly, his voice a command, not a request.
She hesitated, just for a moment, before she did as told. Step by step, she followed him into the next room, her fragile presence hanging in the air like a delicate whisper.
Dante didn't look back.
Not yet.
Luna's stomach churned as the car drove farther away from the only home she had ever known. The house—if it could even be called that—faded from view, and with it, the last remnants of any false sense of comfort she had clung to. Her fingers gripped the seat beneath her, knuckles white, as the engine hummed like a mocking lullaby.
She wasn't going home. She wasn't even sure she could call this a life anymore.
Her stepfather's words still echoed in her ears. "Don't make this harder than it is. You're not special. You're just a tool."
Her stepmother had barely spared her a glance as she was shoved into the backseat, the woman's eyes already calculating how much money they would pocket from the deal. Luna was nothing more than a transaction to them.
They had always treated her like a burden, but this was different. This wasn't just the usual cruelty or cold neglect. This was something darker—something that made her heart race and her breath catch in her throat. She had been sold to a man whose reputation made even the most hardened criminals shiver.
Dante Valentino.
The name haunted her as the black car sped toward an unknown destination. She couldn't even look at the letter in her lap—the contract, the paperwork that sealed her fate. The ink on it was still fresh, but it might as well have been written in blood.
She had never felt so small.
The world outside the car window blurred with the speed, the trees and buildings shifting into a panorama of unfamiliar streets. The city became unfamiliar, as if she was being pulled into some otherworldly realm, one where people like her didn't belong.
What was Dante like?
Luna had heard whispers—terrible rumors, stories that made her skin crawl. But nothing had prepared her for the cold indifference in his eyes when she first laid eyes on him. His gaze had been sharp, calculating, as though she were nothing but a brief distraction in the grand scheme of his world.
Even now, she could feel his gaze burn into her memory—dark, stormy eyes with a sharp edge that cut through her like a blade. It wasn't the look of a man who cared. No, this man was power incarnate. He would break her.
Her heart beat faster.
The car turned into a long driveway, and Luna stiffened as the view ahead came into focus. The mansion loomed before her like a castle out of a fairy tale—a place of grandeur, but in her mind, it might as well have been a prison. Tall, wrought-iron gates stood on either side, as though daring anyone to approach. As the gates opened with a groan, Luna's breath caught.
She had never seen a place so... so perfect. The mansion was vast, looming, built of stone and marble, its grandeur overwhelming. Every inch of it screamed wealth, luxury, power. It was more than she could comprehend.
"Get out," came the sharp command from the driver, pulling her from her thoughts.
Luna didn't move at first. Her body was frozen in place, as if her mind was desperately trying to reject what was about to happen. But with a soft exhale, she forced her legs to obey. She stepped out of the car and felt the cool air hit her skin—so different from the stale, suffocating atmosphere of her old home.
Her feet barely touched the grand marble steps before the heavy front door swung open. She was ushered inside by a tall, silent servant. The scent of polished wood, expensive leather, and something faintly floral filled her senses.
Everything here was immaculate, everything in place. Everything had a price.
Luna felt out of place.
Her eyes wandered over the hall—luxurious chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow on the gleaming floors. The walls were lined with framed portraits, each one staring down at her like silent witnesses to her fate. Her hand twitched at her side, wanting to clutch something, anything, to ground herself.
She didn't belong here.
"This is your new home, Luna." The voice was cold, detached—Dante's voice, but it was distant, like a shadow following her around. His presence was everywhere, and yet he wasn't there.
She could feel his eyes on her as she walked deeper into the house, a presence that seemed to watch her every step, even though she couldn't see him. Her heart raced. She wanted to look, to catch a glimpse of the man who now owned her, but fear held her back.
The walls here seemed to whisper, as if this mansion itself was alive with secrets. Luna pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the thrum of her heartbeat beneath her fingertips. She was terrified. Terrified of Dante, terrified of this place, and most of all, terrified of herself.
What was she becoming?
Her gaze flickered to the grand staircase in front of her, leading up to an unseen world, one she had no place in. She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready for a life like this.
But as she turned back to face the room, she saw the door to a lavish room opening—Dante stood there, his silhouette framed by the threshold, watching her as if she were a strange, fragile bird trapped in a gilded cage.
Her stomach twisted. She wasn't sure if it was the luxury or the sheer coldness of this place that made her want to run. But there was no escape.
This was it. This was her life now.
And no matter how much she feared it, she couldn't stop herself from walking toward him.
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