LOVE CYCLE

Chapter One

THE PRICE OF DEBT

The cold night air bit into Camille's skin as she sprinted through the darkened corridors of the grand estate. Her bare feet barely made a sound against the polished marble floors, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she rounded a corner. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything but the singular thought pounding in her head:

Her fingers tightened around the door handle she had managed to pry open moments ago. Freedom was so close she could taste it.

But before she could take another step, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her backward with brutal force.

"No!" she shrieked, twisting violently, her nails clawing at the steel grip of her captor. The guard grunted but held firm.

"Let me go, you bastard!" she hissed, kicking out wildly.

Another guard stepped forward, his face impassive. "You're only making this harder for yourself, мадам."

Camille let out a strangled growl and jerked against them, but it was useless. These men were trained killers-no amount of struggling would break their hold.

Her chest heaved with fury as they dragged her back toward the main hall. Every step felt like a nail being hammered into her coffin.

As they reached the massive open space, her wild gaze landed on him.

Luciano.

Her husband. Her captor. Her worst nightmare.

He sat in an expensive leather chair, legs crossed, an untouched glass of whiskey in his hand. His suit was pristine, the top buttons of his black dress shirt undone, revealing a hint of hard muscle beneath. The dim glow from the chandelier above cast shadows across his sharp jawline, making him look even colder, crueler.

Camille's rage boiled over.

"You bastard!" she spat, struggling harder. "I swear to God, I will kill you in your sleep!"

Luciano didn't react. Not even a flicker of annoyance. He simply took a slow sip of his whiskey, his icy blue eyes barely acknowledging her presence.

The sheer indifference made her blood burn.

"Are you deaf?!" she screamed, thrashing in the guards' grip. "You arrogant, heartless monster! You think you can keep me locked up like some caged animal?"

Luciano exhaled, setting his glass down with a soft clink. Then, without looking at her, he spoke in smooth, fluid Russian:

"Отведите её внутрь. Убедитесь, что ей комфортно."

(Take her inside. Make sure she's comfortable.)

The guards nodded and took her away.

Camille's fury erupted into pure hysteria.

"Don't you dare ignore me!" she shrieked, her voice raw. "I hate you, Luciano! Do you hear me? I hate you!"

Still, nothing.

Luciano remained as unbothered as ever, his gaze fixed on the amber liquid in his glass, as if her outburst was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

As Camille's screams echoed through the halls, fading into the distance, Luciano finally let out a slow exhale and leaned back in his chair.

Across from him, Enzo-his most trusted soldier-watched with mild amusement.

"She's a feisty one," Enzo remarked, smirking.

Luciano's fingers tapped against the armrest. Feisty wasn't the word.

"She's my wife," he said coolly, reaching for his cigar. "I expect nothing less."

Enzo chuckled but quickly straightened as Luciano's expression hardened.

"The Russians," Luciano said, rolling the cigar between his fingers. "They're testing me."

Enzo's smirk vanished.

"They've been making moves," he admitted. "Small shipments-drugs, weapons. They think we won't notice."

Luciano's jaw tightened. "They want war?"

"They want to see if we'll retaliate."

Luciano leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Handle it."

Enzo nodded, waiting for further instructions.

Luciano exhaled, tapping his cigar once against the ashtray. His voice dropped, smooth and deadly.

Enzo stood up and left

A slow grin spread across Enzo's face. "Consider it done."

With a final nod, he turned and walked out, leaving Luciano in the heavy silence of the room.

Luciano closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his temples. The weight of power, control, and responsibility pressed down on him, but he embraced it-this was his world.

And no one, not the Russians, not his enemies, not even his defiant wife, would change that.

Camille sat on the edge of the massive bed, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palm. The night she had been forced into this marriage replayed in her head like a cruel nightmare.

Her parents had always been reckless with money, but she never imagined they would sell her to pay off their debts.

She had walked into the living room that evening, expecting to see her mother preparing dinner and her father reading the newspaper like usual. Instead, Luciano and his men stood in their place.

Her father's face was drenched in sweat. Her mother's hands trembled as they clutched a teacup. The room reeked of desperation.

"Camille," her father had said, his voice shaking, "this is Mr. Luciano Volkov."

She hadn't missed the way his voice cracked when he spoke the name. Even then, she had known something was very, very wrong.

Luciano had been terrifyingly calm. He had looked at her once before turning back to her father.

"I gave you time," he had said, his Russian accent sharp, clipped. "You failed me."

"Please," her father had begged, his voice hoarse. "I-I just need more time."

Luciano had smiled then, a slow, cruel thing. "Time?" he had repeated, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "You had enough time. Now, you give me something else."

That something had been her.

They hadn't even given her a choice. Before she could process what was happening, a contract had been signed, and she was his.

Camille let out a shuddering breath, snapping back to the present.

She hated him.

She hated all of them.

Luciano had inherited the Volkov Mafia Empire at twenty-four when his father had been assassinated in a bloody ambush.

He had been young but ruthless, determined to take back control and destroy anyone who dared to challenge him.

His father's rivals had thought they could overthrow him.

They had been wrong.

Within a year, he had crushed them, showing no mercy.

Now, at thirty-one, he was untouchable.

His business spanned across weapons, drugs, money laundering, and security firms. The benefits were clear: power, wealth, control. The dangers? Betrayal, assassination attempts, endless bloodshed.

But Luciano had informants in every rival organization. No one made a move without him knowing.

And his rule was simple:

Zero tolerance for betrayal.

Those who crossed him didn't just die.

They disappeared.