Chapter 2 Bound without consent

Emily 🌹

The door slammed behind me, the sound echoing through the hollow shell of what used to be home.

I stormed inside, breath sharp, heart hammering in my chest. The chandelier flickered above me, casting crawling shadows across peeling wallpaper and cracked leather chairs.

The stench of stale whiskey hit first. Then him.

Raymond Carter my uncle, slouched in his armchair, swirling amber liquid like it was something sacred. Wrinkled. Unkempt. Ruined. He didn't even bother to look at me.

My fists clenched. Nails bit into my palms. Heat surged under my skin, bubbling into something I couldn't contain.

"You sold me."

The words tore from my throat, shaking with rage.

He exhaled slowly, placing his glass down with an infuriating calm.

"I settled a debt," he said, like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.

My laugh was sharp, broken. Bitter. It scraped my throat on the way out.

"A debt?" I spat. "You didn't settle anything. You sold me to Marco Bianchi. A mafia boss, for God's sake."

He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. No guilt. Just that same dead-eyed stare I'd grown up loathing.

"And?" he said, flicking his wrist like this was beneath him.

He gestured to the crumbling walls, the sagging furniture, the decay soaked into every inch of this house. Dust clung to everything. The stink of failure settled thick in the air.

"You thought you had a future here?" His smirk sliced clean through me. "I'm drowning, Emily."

He shook his head. "This house? This life? It's a grave."

Then his gaze locked on mine, cold and final. "And you? You're nothing here. At least with him, you'll have security."

Fury exploded in my chest.

"You had no right."

My voice dropped low, venom laced into every word. Tears stung behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

"I'm not-" My voice cracked. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I am not something you trade away."

He sighed, already bored with me. "There was no other way."

His gaze sharpened, something cruel flickering there. "The men I owe don't take 'no' for an answer. Marco's offer was generous."

"Generous?" I choked on the word. "He bought me."

"Don't be dramatic," he snapped.

He shifted in his chair, taking another lazy sip. "You'll be better off with him."

Then came the look. That smug, condescending smirk.

"Rich. Powerful. More than I ever gave you. Maybe you should be thanking me."

The words shattered something inside me.

My hand moved before I thought. I grabbed the crystal ashtray from the table and hurled it. It exploded against the wall. Glass rained down like shards of rage.

He didn't even flinch.

My breath came in broken bursts. My chest ached.

"You ruined my life."

He raised his glass again, completely unfazed.

"No, Emily. I saved it."

The room tilted, air thick with whiskey and lies.

I have to find a way out.

I spun toward the door.

But then I saw it. A shadow behind the frosted glass.

I froze.

Figures moved outside. Tall. Still. Waiting.

My stomach twisted into knots.

Behind me, Raymond smirked over his glass. "You thought-" He took a sip, savoring it. "-You could run?"

"I thought he left" I said

"Too bad he is still here" Raymond replied

He chuckled as a knock echoed through the silence. Slow. Intentional.

Everything in me stilled.

Raymond leaned back like this was a show. Like he was proud.

"Showtime."

The door opened.

And he stepped inside.

Marco Bianchi.

Black suit. Clean lines. Sharp edges. He didn't just wear power-he was power. It dripped from him like smoke and steel.

The air shifted.

He didn't glance around, didn't assess. He owned the space.

Then his eyes met mine.

Cold. Endless. Consuming.

They didn't just look. They took.

A shiver raced down my spine. My breath caught in my throat.

I wanted to run. But my legs didn't move.

"Is she ready?" His voice was smooth. Detached. Like this was a meeting, a transaction, not my life.

"I'm not-" The words stumbled out. "-going with you."

My voice sounded small. False.

Marco didn't even blink. He looked at me like he already knew how this would end.

"You don't have a choice."

The finality in his tone hit like a slap.

Behind me, Raymond drained his glass. Done. Finished.

I stared at Marco. "You think I'll just go? Like some obedient doll?"

"You must be joking" I said

His smirk curled, slow and knowing. A predator with all the time in the world.

"I don't think, Emily," he said. "I know, and we are leaving now!"

The words coiled around me like rope.

He stepped closer.

Measured. Patient. Hunting.

I locked my knees. Held my breath. My fingers curled into fists.

Don't shake. Don't show weakness. Don't let him see.

"You don't own me."

It came out barely a whisper. Shaking.

His eyes narrowed, amused.

"Not yet, soon."

The words slid across my skin like ice.

Fury burned in me, tangled with something worse.

Fear.

I hated it.

I fought it.

But it sat heavy in my chest, thick and suffocating.

I tried to move.

Tried to speak.

Tried to breathe.

But he raised his hand.

Not a threat.

A command.

Outstretched fingers. Calm. Absolute.

Behind me, the sound of whiskey pouring again. Raymond, already moved on.

Like I was nothing. A debt erased. A burden gone.

The men outside didn't move. Didn't need to.

They were walls.

Steel. Silent. Blocking any escape.

My lungs burned.

The air felt thick.

My choices had vanished.

Marco's gaze never left mine.

He didn't need to say a word.

He already had me.

I took a breath. Shaky. Cold.

Then I stepped forward.

One inch. Then another.

Through the door.

Past him.

Each step felt like surrender. Like something inside me cracking open.

Outside, the night swallowed everything.

Behind me, I heard him follow.

Slow. Certain.

The door shut behind us with a loud slam, sending shivers down my spine.

Final.