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

The room was silent now, save for the faint hum of the chandelier swaying slightly above me. My eyes darted to every corner, every shadow, as though expecting him to emerge from the darkness again. 


My mind replayed his words, each one a dagger to my resolve. *He'll break you. Piece by piece.* 


"No," I whispered to myself, my voice shaking. "He won't. I won't let him." 


But even as I said the words, doubt crept in. How could I fight someone like him? He was everywhere—in the walls, in the air, in my mind. 


I pushed myself off the bed, my legs weak but determined. My body ached with every step, 


but I ignored the pain. There had to be a way out of this nightmare. 


I crept to the door, my hand hovering over the handle. My heart pounded as I turned it, the soft click echoing like a gunshot in the silence. The hallway beyond was dark, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows that seemed to stretch and writhe. 


I stepped out, each step measured and silent. The air was heavy, thick with the oppressive weight of his presence, even though he was nowhere to be seen. 


My breath hitched as I pressed myself against the wall, my pulse racing. The steps grew louder, closer, until I could see his shadow stretching along the floor. 


I clamped a hand over my mouth, stifling a sob as I waited, my body trembling. The shadow passed, and I exhaled shakily, my relief short-lived. 


The hallway stretched before me, endless and foreboding. My only chance was to keep moving, to stay ahead of him. 


*I will not break,* I thought, the words a desperate mantra. *I will not break.* 


But deep down, a voice whispered: *What if you already have?* 


The moment I stepped into my office, Gino was already waiting, his posture rigid. 


"Sir," he said, his voice steady. "We caught someone spying around the premises. He's tied up and awaiting your orders." 


I smirked, the aura of power radiating off me. "Bring him in." 


Moments later, they dragged in a man, bound and trembling. His terror was palpable—a delicious appetizer to the main course. I circled him like a predator sizing up its prey, savoring the fear in his eyes. 


"You thought you could spy on me?" I sneered, crouching to meet his gaze. "You should've known better. There are consequences for crossing Erickson Dragons." 


Without hesitation, I plunged my knife into his shoulder. His screams echoed through the room, a symphony of agony. 


I reached the end of the hallway, only to stop dead in my tracks. My breath hitched as I stumbled upon a gruesome scene. Blood pooled on the floor, painting a horrifying picture of violence. 


Two bodies lay lifeless, their faces frozen in terror. And him—Erickson—stood above them, laughing. 


My stomach churned as I watched him lick the blood from his blade, his expression devoid of humanity. The room spun, and I felt a tear slip down my cheek. *What kind of monster am I dealing with?* 


Ah, there she was again. My little Araya, trembling outside the office. Watching her horrified expression was... exhilarating. 


"You here again," I taunted, smirking. "How was your trip, love? Did you tell the devil you belonged to a criminal?" 


Her anger was almost as beautiful as her face. I could see the fury bubbling beneath her fragile exterior. She reached for a knife, her movements quick but clumsy. I caught her wrist effortlessly, tightening my grip. 


"Not so fast, baby," I whispered, leaning in close. "You've broken another rule. Now, tell me—what should your punishment be?"


ARAYA'S struggles