Chapter 2 The Man Who Owns The Dark

• Leona’s POV
• The knock came just after dawn; it was soft. Just three quick knocks like muffled shots.
• I sat on my bed, already dressed. I hadn’t slept.
• My body was still, but my mind was racing, replaying every word my father said.
• Every silent scream I never spoke.
• He asked for you. You will marry him.
• Lucien Moretti. I stood and walked to the door.
• Not confidently, with surrender.
• It felt like someone else had made the decision for me, leaving only the choice of how to face my fate.
• I opened the door while Camila stood there. Always perfect, wearing a flawless black dress, her expression unreadable.
• "They’re waiting in the garden," my sister said with no warmth, no pity. Just duty.
• I nodded and followed, barefoot on the cool marble.
• Each step felt like a quiet act of rebellion.
• I hadn’t worn heels; I hadn’t put on lipstick. I didn’t need armour to meet a man who already claimed me.
• We walked through the east corridor, past the oil paintings and past the ancestral portraits of men with lifeless eyes.
• Past the guards, who straightened when they saw me approaching him.
• The garden bloomed around me like a beautiful but dangerous dream. Roses climbed up the trellis.
• The fountain whispered a melody only I could hear, and then I saw him.
• Lucien Moretti stood under dark ivy, dressed in black from head to toe, with no tie. Just a silk shirt, open at the collar, showing skin so pale it looked like ice.
• He stood easily, hands in pockets, looking at home—in this house, in this moment, in my future.
• He turned slowly as I approached, and our eyes met again.
• No introductions, no small talk. Just that stare. That cold, magnetic, merciless gaze.
• "Leona Valencia", he said.
• His voice was smooth, but not soft. Each word sharp as glass.
• "So you’re the one they offered."
• My back stiffened, and for the first time, I spoke defiantly.
• "Did they offer… or did you take?"
• A flash of something crossed his face. Amusement? Approval? It was gone before I could tell.
• "I take nothing," he said. "Unless it’s mine to begin with."
• I felt then an invisible thread tightening between us.
• Not desire, not yet. But possession.
• He didn’t see me as a girl.
• He saw me as a move.
• A tool.
• A carefully placed piece on a larger game board, and yet he looked at me.
• Not through me, not past her, but into me; no one had ever done that.
• "I don’t belong to anyone," I said quietly, a lie I wished were true.
• Lucien stepped forward. Not a threat. Just presence. Controlled and deliberate.
• "Not yet."
• My heart raced. Still, I didn’t back away.
• The sun broke through the clouds, casting light through the vines and highlighting his profile like something from myths.
• Beautiful like a storm. Terrifying. Unstoppable.
• "You’ll marry me in seven days," he said.
• I blinked.
• "That soon?" He tilted his head slightly. "Time is something your family no longer has."
• A flash of anger crossed me. "So this is a ransom."
• "This," he said, voice quiet, "is justice."
• My breath caught.
• The word hung between us like a knife.
• "What did they do to you?" I whispered.
• Lucien’s jaw clenched, a flicker of emotion flashing behind his mask.
• "Ask your father." Then he turned.
• I expected him to walk away, but he paused and looked back.
• "Next time, wear shoes. You’re walking into a kingdom of knives."
• Then he was gone, and I stood there, alone in a garden full of secrets, barefoot and trembling—not from fear but from something far more dangerous: recognition.
• —
• Lucien’s POV
• I stood at the edge of the Valencia garden. I had learnt everything about the house—its layout, security measures, and where the guards were.
• This wasn’t just a marriage; it was a plan ten years in the making.
• But when Leona Valencia walked into the sunlight barefoot and calm, my plan faltered for the first time.
• She was small, not in height, but in presence. It felt like others had erased her over time. Yet when I spoke, she didn’t look away; she met my gaze.
• That quiet defiance, so subtle most wouldn’t notice it, caught my attention.
• I always noticed when she asked, "Did they offer… or did you take?" It hit me harder than I expected.
• There was no fear or desperation in her voice but just a question. It was as if she knew she had never had a choice.
• Neither did I.
• I got into the armoured car waiting for him on the private road.
• Nico, my second-in-command, was inside, cigarette lit, tension clear on his face.
• "Well?" Nico asked. "She’s quiet",
• I said, settling into the leather seat. "Good. That’ll make it easier." I didn’t reply.
• I kept watching the rearview mirror until the gates closed behind them.
• "Are you sure about this?" Nico asked. "There are other ways to hurt Emilio." I exhaled slowly.
• "I don’t want to hurt him."
• "Then what?"
• "I want him to choke on what he values most." Nico narrowed his eyes.
• "The girl?"
• "No." My voice was cold.
• "Control."
• I carried deep pain inside. My father, a trusted ally of Don Emilio, had been murdered and left in a shipping crate off the Amalfi Coast.
• I was seventeen when I found him—hands tied, throat cut, my father's signet ring missing.
• Emilio Valencia had smiled at the funeral.
• For years, I built my empire bit by bit.
• I didn’t shout or threaten. I just rose quietly and ruthlessly until Emilio had to notice me.
• Now, he was inside the lion’s den.
• Through a wedding band.
• "You’ll marry me in seven days," I told her. Not because I wanted her, but because it would earn the Valencias' trust.
• It would open their doors and lower their guns.
• Then, I would destroy them all but Leona. Something about her bothered me.
• She didn’t act like a mafia daughter; she didn’t flatter, beg, or plot, but she just stood there, barefoot and marked by years of invisibility, looking at me as if she saw something I wasn’t ready to show.
• And for a moment—just one—I forgot the blood, forgot the plan, forgot my father. I just saw her. A girl made of silence and shadows.
• A pawn moved by men who never valued her, not yet. But I would find out how much it cost her to survive this family.
• When I broke them and stood over the ashes of the Valencias, only one question would remain.
• Would she still look at me like that? Like maybe, I was more than just the devil sent to destroy her.