THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED (A dark, mafia romance)

The air in the hallway was thick with the scent of expensive floor wax and something more metallic.  I didn't have a name for it but what I did have for it was a feeling.  A terrible reminder I was now a part of this monster's world.  Bane Valak.  My feet felt heavy as I followed him, the plush carpet beneath my toes doing nothing to soften the blow of my new reality.  Two weeks ago I was getting my hair curled in a high end salon, surrounded by girls who hated me but stuck around because our fathers were rich.  I wonder what I would have done back then if I knew that in such short time I could go from being sold to stolen to being turned into........ a possession.  A toy.  A 'princess'.  Bane stopped abruptly in front of a pair of towering mahogany doors.  He didn't turn to look at me, but I could feel the weight of his presence.  It was like a physical pressure against my body. "Listen closely, Princess," he said, his voice a low, rasp that sent a shiver of pure dread down my spine. "My house is not a prison, provided you understand that it is also not a playground. There are rules."  He turned to face me then, "If you violate them, and you'll find out exactly why your husband is currently a memory."  I swallowed hard, my fingers twisting into the hem of the dress he'd had someone leave for me.  "I..I understand."  He turned then, his dark eyes tracking the movement of my hands before settling on my face.  He stepped closer into my personal space, forcing me to tilt my head back just to keep him in view.  He was so huge.  "First," he began, ticking a finger off. "You do not leave the premises. Not the gates, not the garden walls. To the world, you died with your husband, Raul. If you step outside, I cannot guarantee you will see the light of day" I nodded once, my brain unable to search for the right words to respond with. "Second," he continued, leaning in until I could smell the faint hint of bourbon and cold air on his skin. "You do as you are told. If I send a maid to dress you, you dress. If I tell you to move, you move. My word is absolute. Do you understand me, Princess?" "Yes"  "Third," he said, his hand reaching out to catch a stray lock of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. His touch was almost but not quite gentle. He looked me in the eye as he continued speaking. "You will always appear presentable. You are a reflection of this house and me now. I will not have you looking like a victim, even if you may feel like one." His fingers lingered on the shell of my ear, and I felt my breath hitch. He was toying with me. "Fourth," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second. "No phones. No internet. No tethers to the life that you used to have. However, I am not a savage. You have full access to the library. Read. Learn. Occupy your mind so it doesn't rot with useless hope." Useless hope? I realized that I was in someway I was holding on to useless hope. Hope that someone would come find me and get me out of here. He paused, his grip suddenly tightened on my arm , forcing me to look up directly into the abyss of his eyes. "And fifth, Amaya. The most important rule of all." He leaned down, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered the final command. "You belong to me. To me, and me alone. Not to your dead husband's ghost. If another man touches you, I will kill him. If you seek out another man, I will make you watch while I do it. Do you understand?"  "Yes," I whispered, the word barely a breath.  My heart was beating so fast that I wouldn't be shocked if he could hear it all the way from where he stood. "Good." He released my arm, turned and pushed the heavy mahogany doors open. What I saw next was a library that was staggering. Even that had to be an understatement. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with leather-bound books, a rolling ladder tucked into a corner, and a massive velvet chaise lounge sitting in the center of the room. Even better, it was right under a crystal chandelier.  It was a sanctuary made of gold and paper, like the most beautiful cell in the world.  He stepped back, gesturing for me to enter. I walked in, the silence of the room swallowing the sound of my footsteps. I waited for him to say something else.  Maybe a parting threat, some form of mockery, but when I turned around, he was already leaving. He quietly pulled the doors shut. The click of the lock echoing through the room was the final blow.  I stood in the center of the room, alone, surrounded by the wisdom of centuries and the stories of a thousand lives. I should have been glad. But I felt my knees finally give out.  I collapsed onto the thick Persian rug, the weight of the last twenty-four hours crashing over me like a tidal wave. I didn't look at the books, I couldn't bring myself to think of them mattered. I just buried my face in my hands and let out a jagged, broken sob. I sat there and cried. I cried for the girl who thought her wedding day would be the start of a life, even if it was going to be a miserable one.  I cried for the husband I hadn't loved but who had been slaughtered before my eyes. I cried because I had looked into Bane Valak's eyes and seen a man who wanted to break me and own the every single piece. I cried because I'm so scared.