whitepheonix

**"Leave me alone! Please, just let me go!"** My voice cracked as I thrashed in his iron grip, but it was useless. He scooped me up effortlessly, his hold unyielding, carrying me off to a fate I couldn’t escape.  

This can’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.  

"I don’t want this," I whispered, my voice raw with terror. "Please… just let me go."  

My pleas barely reached his ears, or if they did, he didn’t care. His silence was louder than any threat, his indifference a dagger to my chest.  

A heartbeat later, my body hit the softness of a king-sized bed, but there was no comfort in it. My tears had nearly dried, leaving only silent sobs wracking my frame. I forced myself to speak, desperation lacing every syllable.  

"Luciano, please," I choked out. "If I’ve wronged you in any way, I’m sorry. But don’t punish me like this."  

A deafening crack split the air, and before I could react, fire exploded across my cheek. The force of the slap sent my head whipping to the side, my skin stinging from the brutal contact.  

The room pulsed with danger.  

**"No one calls me by my name,"** he growled, his voice like crushed glass—sharp, merciless. **"And no one tells me what to do."**  

His fingers curled under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. Cold, dark, and bottomless, his eyes held no mercy, no hesitation.  

"You will warm my bed," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft, laced with cruel intent. "You will satisfy my every craving, no matter how disastrous, no matter how dark."  

A wicked smirk ghosted over his lips, his grip tightening.  

"Because you are mine to break. And no one stops me."  

He leaned in, his breath fanning against my trembling lips.  

"Now… come here."  

---

Story by white pheonix

Pregnant by the Mafia boss

Erickson crouched beside her, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure that made her skin crawl. He traced a finger through the blood that stained her arm, the warm liquid glistening like rubies against her pale skin. Bringing it to his lips, he savored the metallic taste, a twisted smile curling his mouth. "So sweet," he murmured, his voice low and dripping with desire. "I can't wait to taste every part of you, doll. You'll scream my name when I claim you, and you'll beg for more." 


His words slithered into her ears, and a wave of nausea washed over her. Darkness began to close in, a suffocating shroud that pulled her under. Her heart raced, each beat echoing like a drum in the silence of the room. Blood trickled down her side, soaking into her white dress, transforming it into a canvas of her suffering. She fought against the urge to succumb to despair, her breath hitching as she thought of Ash, her innocent face flashing before her—a beacon of hope in her shattered world. She had failed her. 


Five minutes passed, but it felt like an eternity. The room was silent except for the sound of Erickson's boots as he paced, the echo of his footsteps a reminder of the power he wielded over her. She could feel the weight of his gaze, a predatory hunger that made her skin crawl. He turned to Jack, who stood nervously in the doorway, his eyes darting between Erickson and her broken form, fear etched across his features. 


"Clean up this mess," Erickson ordered coldly, his voice devoid of warmth. "And remember—she's mine." 


Jack nodded, his face pale, and disappeared into the shadows, leaving her alone with the monster who had turned her life into a living nightmare. She could see the twisted satisfaction etched across Erickson's features as he looked down at her, his smirk widening. "You'll learn, Stewarts. Disobedience has consequences." 


With every word, her heart shattered further, each piece falling away like the remnants of her hope. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the blood that stained her lips. She could taste the salt of her sorrow, the bitter reminder of her helplessness. Her body trembled, not just from pain but from the weight of despair pressing down on her. She was a fragile doll, cracked and bleeding, yet deep within her, a flicker of defiance ignited. 


As her consciousness began to fade, one thought lingered in her mind: she had to survive—for Ash. She had to find a way to escape this hell and protect her sister from the darkness that threatened to consume them both. The warmth of her blood pooled beneath her, a stark reminder of her vulnerability, but she refused to let it define her. 


In the depths of her fading awareness, that flicker of resolve grew into a small flame against the overwhelming darkness. She would not let him win. She would not let him take everything from her. She would fight, even if it meant crawling through the shadows, even if it meant enduring more pain. Her heart ached, each beat a reminder of her love for Ash, the sister she had dreamed of, the sister she had promised to protect. 


As the world around her slipped away, she clung to that thought, a lifeline in the abyss. She would survive. For Ash. She would find a way back to her, no matter the cost. And one day, she would make him pay. 


With every ounce of strength she could muster, she vowed to rise from the ashes of her suffering, to reclaim her life and her sister. She would not be a victim; she would be a warrior. 


Her determination