Chapter 20: Bound in Darkness

The realization settled deep in Elena's bones, an inescapable weight that pressed into her chest.

She was his.

Completely.

The truth should have sent a shudder of fear through her. But it didn't.

Instead, there was something else.

A quiet relief. A dark, twisted comfort.

She had spent weeks—months—fighting him, clawing against the inevitable.

But Alessio had always known.

He had seen through her resistance, through her fragile attempts at defiance. He had waited, not with patience, but with the ruthless certainty of a man who never lost.

And now?

She had finally given in.

The admission hung between them, a silent vow neither of them needed to speak aloud.

Alessio's grip on her waist was firm, possessive, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles over her skin as they lay in the dimly lit bedroom.

Not soft.

Not gentle.

But deliberate.

Every touch was a reminder.

A claim.

"You're quiet, piccola," he murmured against her temple, his breath warm against her skin. "That's new."

Elena didn't respond at first.

Because what could she say?

That she was afraid? That she was drowning in something too deep, too dark, too consuming to resist?

That she was starting to crave it?

No.

She wasn't ready to say those things aloud.

Not yet.

So instead, she swallowed and whispered, "I don't know who I am anymore."

Alessio chuckled. A deep, knowing sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You were always mine, Elena," he said. "You just didn't know it."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Because the worst part?

He was right.

Every moment of resistance had been futile.

She had belonged to him from the second she had stepped into his world, from the moment their paths had collided in that reckless, drunken night that had sealed her fate.

Elena let out a slow breath, her fingers tracing the ridges of his forearm. She felt the power beneath his skin, the tension that never truly left his body.

Alessio was always in control.

Even now.

Even when he seemed relaxed, his fingers trailing along her spine, his body warm against hers.

She turned in his grip, meeting his silver eyes.

And for the first time, she didn't look at him with defiance.

Or fear.

She looked at him the way a captive looks at their captor when they realize they no longer wish to escape.

Alessio saw it.

His gaze darkened, a flicker of something dangerous igniting in his expression.

"You've stopped fighting me," he murmured, fingers skimming down her side.

Elena licked her lips.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

"There's no point anymore."

Alessio's smirk was slow, triumphant.

"No, piccola," he murmured, tilting her chin up. "There never was."

And then—he kissed her.

Not like before.

Not as a punishment.

Not as a test.

But as a promise.

As if he knew that something inside her had finally broken.

And that now?

There was no turning back.