"The House That Eats Silence"

The walls were too quiet.

Elián stood alone in a corridor that stretched like a spine through the heart of the De Luca estate. Everything smelled like polished wood, cigar smoke, and money. Oil paintings loomed over him—portraits of men with the same ruthless eyes as Luca. Each one looked like they killed for breakfast.

He hated it already.

Behind him, the grand hall echoed with footsteps—Luca’s, measured and slow.

“Follow me,” came the voice.

It wasn’t a suggestion.

Elián obeyed, his shoes making the faintest sound on the marble. He didn’t speak, didn’t flinch, even as they passed armed guards dressed like groomsmen. The entire house felt like a war disguised as a wedding.

They stopped at a heavy black door. Luca opened it with one hand, stepping aside.

Elián entered the room cautiously.

A bedroom. Lavish but cold. Black sheets. Minimal decor. One window facing the city. No photos. No softness. Just sharp lines and control.

“This yours?” Elián asked.

Luca nodded. “Now it’s ours.”

Elián turned. “You’re kidding.”

“We’re married in name,” Luca said, stepping closer. “But image is everything. We share a room.”

“So I sleep where your bullets go?” Elián scoffed.

Luca didn’t answer. He walked to a tall cabinet, opened a drawer, and pulled out a folded tuxedo.

“Wear this. The ceremony is in one hour.”

“There’s a ceremony?” Elián laughed bitterly. “Do I get cake too?”

Luca looked over his shoulder. “No. But you’ll get watched. Photographed. Understood.”

“Understood?”

“Claimed,” Luca said, voice like gravel. “The world needs to see it. Touching you becomes a threat. Looking at you becomes a warning. You become untouchable because you’re mine.”

Elián’s stomach twisted, but he didn’t show it.

Instead, he dropped the tuxedo on the bed and stared at the older man. “You want a show? Fine. But don’t think you’ve tamed me.”

Luca moved in one slow step, stopping only inches away. “I don’t need to tame you, Elián. I just need you to stand where I place you.”

He reached out and hooked a finger under Elián’s chin. The touch was firm. Not gentle.

Elián didn’t back down. His eyes locked on Luca’s, defiant. “You think you own me?”

Luca’s gaze lingered on his lips. “I know I do.”

The moment cracked like thunder between them.

Then Luca turned away. “Get dressed.”

......................

The ceremony wasn’t romantic. It was business.

Elián stood beneath a vaulted archway, golden lights painting his skin while a crowd of dangerous men and elegant strangers looked on. None smiled. They observed like wolves watching another pack leader stake a claim.

Luca stood beside him, unreadable.

There were no vows. No music.

Just one sentence.

“I, Luciano De Luca, take this man as mine under oath and power.”

A ring was placed on Elián’s finger. Heavy. Custom. The De Luca crest carved into the metal like a warning.

Elián didn’t respond with words. He met Luca’s eyes, jaw clenched, and slipped the second ring onto Luca’s hand.

No kiss.

Only silence.

Only dominance.

When the officiant nodded, the room erupted into cold applause.

And that was it.

He was no longer Elián Cruz.