THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED (A dark, mafia romance)
I was sold and married off to a monster.
And on my wedding night... he tried to rape me.
But before he could, gunfire tore through the walls, blood spilled and screams filled the air.
And just like that... my husband was dead.
I thought it was over.
I was wrong. Because the men who killed him didn't save me.
They took and dragged me into a world darker than anything I had ever known and straight into the hands of a man far more dangerous.
Now I belong to him.....Bane Valak.
And in his world, there are only two choices, Obey... or Die.
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Chapter 9
Regina Valak didn't move like any other person that I had come across in all my time here.
She moved the same way that her brother did; like she owned the air she breathed, and for a second, I felt a sharp pang of envy so strong it made my stomach ache.
She was free.
She was the definition of what I wanted to be, of what I should have been.
Instead I was traded from dangerous man to the next.
Regina stood in the center of my new, gilded cage, her red hair looking like a splash of blood against the cream-colored walls.
Her smile stayed fixed on her face.
It was wide, bright, and entirely too much for a room that had rested within the walls of a mansion so utterly depressing.
"You're quieter than I expected," Regina said.
She didn't take her eyes off me as she walked over to the velvet armchair near the balcony and dropped into it, crossing one long, silk-clad leg over the other.
"Bane said you were a beautiful young lady but I must say he was greatly under exaggerating"
I stayed standing.
My hands were still knotted together at my waist, my knuckles white.
"I appreciate the compliment. Thank you"
Regina tilted her head.
Her eyes were sharp, scanning me with an unnerving level of perception.
"You're hate it here don't you, Amaya? You despise my brother too on some level. I'd be shocked if you didn't"
I didn't answer.
I didn't know how to tell her that being alive now felt like a chore.
That every breath I took felt like I was stealing it from this evil man who had already decided I was his property.
I didn't know how to tell her that if I had the chance I would kill her brother and then I would kill her for being what I could not.
"Look," Regina said, her voice softening. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
"I know how you ended up here, Amaya. I know about your father. I know about the wedding night. And I know about the cell."
I winced.
Hearing her say it out loud made it feel realer, dirtier.
"I'm sorry," she said, and for the first time, the smile vanished.
Her expression turned solemn, almost grieving.
"I'm truly sorry you had to get caught in the crossfire of a stupid cartel war. Men like my brother and Raul... they play for keeps, and they don't care who gets stepped on while they're moving their pieces. You were just a casualty of a territory dispute that had nothing to do with you."
The room was still silent.
I still had nothing to say to this woman.
I could only look down at the Persian rug, tracing the intricate patterns with my eyes.
What was I supposed to say to that?
"Oh, thank you for acknowledging I'm a victim? Thank you for the apology on behalf of the man who currently holds the keys to my life?!!"
The words felt stuck in my throat, dry and useless.
I wanted to believe her.
I wanted to reach out to that warmth because it was the only thing in this house that didn't feel like ice.
But then I remembered the guards. I remembered the rules.
I remembered the way Bane had turned me into his little property.
I remembered he was HER BROTHER and I said nothing.
I don't think I even wanted to look at her in that moment.
"You don't have to say anything," Regina said, sensing the wall I was building.
She stood up, the movement fluid and effortless.
"I wouldn't trust me either if I were you. In this house, trust is a luxury we usually can't afford."
She walked toward the door, then stopped, looking back over her shoulder.
"Bane's rules are... specific," she said, a small, mischievous smirk returning to her lips.
"He's not a jailer in the way you think. You're free to roam the estate grounds, Amaya. As long as you stay inside the walls, the guards won't touch you. Go outside. Get some sun on that pale skin of yours before you start looking like one of the ghosts in the hallway."
I blinked.
"I can go outside?" "Within the walls," she clarified.
"Think of it as a very large, very beautiful yard. I spend most of my time in the conservatory or the gym. I hope to run into you soon. Maybe we can find something to talk about that isn't my brother's brooding."
She winked at me. "See you around, Amaya," she said.
Then, she was gone.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the spot where she had been.
I walked over to the balcony doors and pushed them open.
The Roman air was warm, smelling of ancient stone and blooming jasmine.
Below me, the gardens stretched out in a sea of green and floral colors. I saw the guards, their black suits stark against the flowers.
Regina was warm. She was welcoming.
She was the first person who had looked at me like a human being instead of a contract or a conquest.
That was something nice that I could try to get used to.
But as I watched her red hair disappear around the corner of the stone path below, I felt a familiar shiver.
She was a Valak.
She had the same blood as the man who had stolen me.
I wanted to believe she was a friend. I wanted it so badly it hurt.
But as I gripped the cold marble of the balcony railing, I knew I couldn't afford to be naive.
I was in the lion's den, and even if one of the lions was offering me a smile, I was still the prey.
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7.8
Isabella Hart thought her Valentine's Day plan was perfect: propose to her boyfriend, celebrate in the Maldives, and finally start the life she'd dreamed of.
Instead, she walked into his office and found him kissing his assistant who was also her friend.
Heartbreak turned to fury and before she could stop herself, she shoved the engagement ring meant for him onto the finger of a stranger with cold gray eyes.
The stranger looked at her, amused, and said, "I do."
Moments later, her ex called that stranger Boss.
Luciano Moretti, the stranger, was no ordinary man. He was the quiet, ruthless king of New York's underworld, the man people whispered about but never dared to name aloud.
What began as a viral mistake became a dangerous entanglement of power, lies, and a love too forbidden to survive the truth.
7.5
On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket.
It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago.
When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional.
The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts.
"If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement.
They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt.
I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file?
Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim.
When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights.
"If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield.
I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.
7.1
"Don't tease me again or else you really want it. There are no safe words in my bed."
He is rumored to know a thousand ways to disarm and pleasure a woman, and I am Olivia, the nymphomaniac.
In a quest for revenge against my childhood bullies, I got locked into an unhappy marriage, with an untamed brother-in-law. Colt Fletcher, the morally-grey, rebel biker is ever excited by danger and prefers life on the edge. And from the moment he laid eyes on me, I became his forbidden want.
I should know better, to steer clear of deadly desires like these but when fate forces us to live under the same roof, share the same boardroom, and every accidental touch burns, my resolve begins to collapse.
But scandals don't stay buried, and my husband is the devil. The price of this betrayal is death. I must choose between my husband who owns my name, and his brother who owns my body.
7.1
For ten years, I disguised myself as my dead twin brother, fighting bloody mob wars to build the Falcone family's bootlegging empire.
When the war ended, I thought I could finally take off the men's suits and be Anya again.
Instead, my parents stole my victories to secure my father's power, demanding I disappear forever.
When I tried to expose the truth, my family dragged me into a soundproof basement.
My younger brother forced a metal funnel past my teeth and poured corrosive chemicals down my throat, dissolving my vocal cords into a blistered ruin.
They chained me to a freezing pier, whipped me bloody, and let the men I used to lead spit on me as a jealous traitor.
Then, under the guise of a family reconciliation dinner, my mother drugged my wine.
While I lay paralyzed but fully conscious on my bed, my brother took heavy iron pliers and crushed all ten of my fingers, bone by bone.
They wanted to ensure I could never hold a gun or write the truth again.
I had slaughtered for them, bled for them, and craved only their love.
In return, they pulverized my body and painted me as a hysterical madwoman just to keep the crown I had won for them.
The foolish girl who wanted a family died in that agonizing pain, leaving behind only a ghost.
Dragging my mangled, bandaged body into the rival Romano family's charity gala, I collapsed at the feet of their ruthless matriarch.
"I invoke the sacred code," I rasped through my chemically burned throat. "I demand a Vendetta."
7.9
"You are wet, Red. I can smell your juices already." He said. I wanted to deny it but I knew he was right. The sides of my thigh were already clammy. How could he tell from afar?
"No, I need to sleep. I told you I have a presentation tomorrow, right? I'm tired, I want to rest a bit." I replied.
"You'll do that when I get a release. I'll make sure to be fast about it," he replied. I stood rooted on the same spot without moving. I knew he was just being civil with me. It was only a matter of time before he dragged me to his side.
"Unless maybe you want me to call the others?" He asked but I could tell he was threatening me. Calling the others would end in me not getting any rest at all.
"No, please," I replied walking obediently to his side.
*****
Three men, one naive woman.
Ziyana never knew her life would turn in the most dramatic way. She enjoyed the life of a princess until life happened.
From being hated by her blood to suddenly being sold to a spoilt Mafia Lord. She thought she could navigate through it but there were two more brothers!
Ruthless. Domineering. Voracious.
The Niccolo Brothers' lives were full of danger and envy but these men never wanted her out of their sight.
Would Ziyana be able to cope in the midst or run for her life before she get used to them?
8.1
Trigger Warning: This book is extremely dark, containing themes of obsession, strong sexual content, abuse, and psychological manipulation. Read at your own risk.
"I'll delete the pictures depending on how obedient you are. You have to do everything I say. If I want you to become a dog, you get on your knees and bark. Do we have a deal?"
Pierce leans down to Malakai's height, his lips brushing the shell of his ear, close enough to taste his fear.
"You don't want her to know what a dirty little creep you are, do you?"
Malakai Kreston is the preacher's perfect son. Quiet. Obedient. The kind of boy no one looks at twice.
But Malakai has a filthy secret. And he'll do anything-anything-to keep it buried.
Enter Pierce Masterson.
Wealthy. Attractive. Pierce doesn't just want Malakai's secret. He wants Malakai. All of him. His fear. His obedience. His body. His mind.
Pierce wants to own it, and lock it away where no one else can ever touch it.
Kai has always been the hunter-watching from the shadows, obsessing in silence, taking what doesn't belong to him.
Now someone is hunting him.
And Pierce doesn't play fair. He plays dirty.
How far can you run when the devil already knows every dark corner of your soul?
In a game of predator and prey, the lines blur. The roles reverse. And the most dangerous thing isn't the boy who holds the blackmail-
It's the moment Malakai stops wanting to be free.