The weight of the day hung heavily on Amelia as she sat in the lavish bridal suite, the golden rays of the setting sun casting a faint glow through the windows. She couldn't shake the hollow feeling that had settled in her chest. Everything in her life had been turned upside down. From a small, peaceful town to the dark and dangerous world of the mafia, it felt like she was drowning in a life she never asked for.
She pressed her hands together, the old, worn Bible her mother had given her years ago resting in her lap. It was the only piece of comfort she had left. In the quiet moments, when Dante wasn't nearby with his calculating eyes or his cruel demands, she turned to her faith—seeking refuge in the words of Scripture.
She opened the Bible to the first chapter she had ever memorized: Philippians 4:6-7. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Her fingers traced the well-worn edges of the page as she whispered the words under her breath. Please, God... show me the way. Please, give me the strength to endure this. Protect my heart from what's to come.
But the words didn't bring the peace they once had. Instead, they felt like a reminder of her helplessness. Amelia had always relied on God in times of trial, but this... this felt like a test she wasn't sure she could pass.
---
The Evening After Dinner
Dante had barely spoken to her after their return to the mansion, but his eyes had lingered on her long enough to make her feel small. The silence between them was suffocating, and each word he spoke seemed like a reminder that she was just a tool in his world.
But that night, as the shadows lengthened and the night grew still, he returned to the suite. Amelia was kneeling by the window, the Bible still open in front of her. The faint sound of her prayers echoed softly in the room.
Dante didn't knock. Instead, he entered silently, his heavy footsteps barely audible. He watched her for a moment, the soft glow of the candlelight illuminating her delicate features. She looked like a fragile thing, praying for solace in a life that had none to offer.
"You pray a lot, don't you?" Dante's voice broke the silence, dark and quiet, as though he had been watching her longer than she realized.
Amelia jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence. She closed the Bible with trembling hands, a sense of guilt washing over her. "I... I'm just praying for guidance," she said softly, not looking at him. She didn't want to engage with him. She wanted to hold on to her faith, to the last thing that gave her comfort.
Dante's smirk appeared as he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "Guidance?" he repeated, his voice tinged with amusement. "What exactly do you think God will do for you, Amelia? Will He help you escape your marriage? Will He save your family from the mess they've created? There's no savior for you here."
Amelia's heart pounded in her chest. He was mocking her, questioning the one thing that had always been her refuge. But she couldn't let him see her weakness. She had to hold on to her faith, no matter what.
"God's love isn't about promises of an easy life," she replied quietly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her. "It's about having strength to endure. And even if I'm trapped in this world you've forced me into, I still believe He will give me the strength to survive it."
Dante's eyes narrowed as he took a few steps forward. "Survival. That's all you'll have, then. But don't think for a second that your God is going to save you from this. I own you now."
The words stung, cutting through the fragile armor Amelia had tried to build around herself. Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them back, unwilling to let him see how much his words hurt her. She could feel the coldness in him, the darkness that seeped from his very presence.
"You may have the power to control my body, Dante," Amelia whispered, her voice barely audible, "but you can never control my soul."
Dante studied her for a long moment, the silence stretching between them. His gaze softened just the tiniest bit, but there was no kindness in it. Only the recognition of something deeper in her—a fire that he hadn't fully extinguished yet.
"I don't need your soul," he replied, his voice almost cold with certainty. "But your obedience... that I'll have. You'll see. And soon, you'll learn that your faith can't save you from what's to come."
***************
The Night Deepens
Later that night, as Amelia lay in bed, her thoughts tangled in confusion and fear, she clutched the Bible to her chest once more. She had never felt so torn between her love for God and the harsh reality of the world she now found herself in. She knew Dante was right about one thing—she was trapped in a nightmare. But she refused to let him strip away the one thing that gave her any semblance of hope.
God, please protect me from the darkness that surrounds me. Help me find strength where I feel weak. Help me hold on to my faith.
The sound of Dante's footsteps outside her door sent another wave of fear through her, but she refused to let it break her. She would endure. She would pray. And she would find a way to survive—because even in this hell he had thrust her into, she knew she wasn't alone.
And though she couldn't yet see the way out, Amelia believed that God would guide her when the time was right.
*************************
The mansion felt colder as the days went by. Amelia had never imagined that the grand walls, adorned with expensive art and marble floors, would one day feel like a prison. Every corner of the estate seemed to echo with a haunting silence, broken only by Dante's footsteps and the heavy, unspoken weight of their marriage.
Amelia knew she had become a fixture in his life, a role he required to uphold appearances and fulfill his family's demands. But she couldn't shake the feeling that, to him, she was nothing more than a tool. A pawn. He had made that clear on their wedding night.
The Morning After
She woke early, before the sun had even begun to rise, as was her habit in the life she once knew. The silence of the room was almost deafening, and she reached for the Bible on the bedside table, the edges worn from years of use. It had become a lifeline, a thread she clung to in the midst of a life she didn't recognize.
With trembling hands, she flipped through the pages, letting the familiar verses anchor her. She had to keep her faith alive. She had to.
Isaiah 41:10. "Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
Her heart swelled with the words, but as she whispered them, the door to the suite creaked open, and a shadow fell across the room. Amelia's breath caught in her throat.
Dante.
She quickly closed the Bible and placed it in her lap, as though hiding her connection to God could somehow make the tension between them less palpable. But it didn't.
Dante stood in the doorway, his figure as imposing as always. His dark eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her feel exposed. Vulnerable.
"Praying again?" he asked, his voice casual but with a strange undercurrent of curiosity.
Amelia stiffened. She wasn't sure how to answer him. Was he mocking her again? Or was there something more beneath his words?
"I… I was just reading," she replied, trying to sound as normal as possible. She knew it wouldn't fool him, but she couldn't let him see how fragile she felt.
He stepped further into the room, his gaze never leaving her face. The air seemed to grow thicker with every step he took.
"You're always reading," he said, his tone suddenly low, almost… thoughtful. "But it won't change anything, Amelia. You'll have to face the truth eventually. There's no escape. You're mine. You always will be."
Her heart pounded against her chest, a mix of anger and fear surging through her. "I'm not yours," she whispered fiercely, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to sound defiant. "I belong to God. And no matter what you say or do, that won't change."
Dante's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. He took another step toward her, closing the distance between them. He was so close now that she could feel the heat radiating off his body.
"You're a stubborn one," he murmured, his gaze shifting from her face to the Bible in her hands. "But even you can't deny the truth. You'll do what I want, in the end."
Amelia's throat tightened. He was trying to break her. He was trying to twist her faith into a weapon against her. But she wouldn't let him.
"I'll never do what you want," she said, her voice trembling with determination. "Not if it means abandoning who I am."
Dante's eyes flashed with something unreadable, something dangerous. He leaned in close, his breath brushing against her ear as he spoke in a low, almost predatory tone. "You'll learn, Amelia. You'll learn that no matter how much you pray, no matter how hard you try to hold onto your faith, you'll always be mine. And you'll come to want it."
The words hung in the air like a dark promise. Amelia's heart raced, and her hands clenched into fists around the Bible.
Please, God… help me.
But there was no answer. Only the silence.
*********************
The Tension Builds
The days blurred together in a haze of dread and confusion. Dante's presence was a constant weight on her chest, and every interaction seemed to push her further into the corner. He had a way of making her feel both invisible and completely under his control.
She tried to keep her distance. She tried to pray. But each time she closed her eyes, the images of his cold stare, his commanding presence, haunted her. His touch, the way he always seemed to be right behind her, waiting for a weakness to exploit, never left her mind.
An Unexpected Encounter
It was during one of the weekly dinners with Dante's associates that Amelia truly understood the depth of her captivity.
The grand dining hall was filled with laughter and conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of orchestral music in the background. But Amelia couldn't focus on any of it. She was too aware of the eyes on her, too aware of how Dante's hand rested possessively on the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd.
"Amelia," Dante's voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and commanding. "Meet my associate, Luca."
She turned to find a man standing beside Dante—tall, dark, and handsome, with an air of confidence that matched Dante's own. He extended a hand to her, but the way his eyes raked over her made her feel uneasy. She stiffened, instinctively moving closer to Dante.
Luca's eyes glinted as he shook her hand, but the look on his face told her everything she needed to know: he didn't care about her at all. To him, she was just another asset in Dante's collection.
"And how are you settling in, Amelia?" Luca asked, his voice smooth, but there was a coldness to it. "I imagine it's a bit overwhelming, being in Dante's world."
Amelia forced a smile, though it felt like a mask. "I'm managing," she replied, her voice soft, but there was a hint of steel behind the words.
Dante watched the exchange with a sharp, calculating gaze. His eyes flickered between them, and Amelia could feel the tension in his posture. She didn't know if it was jealousy or something else entirely, but the look he gave Luca made her skin crawl.
"You're always so eager to test me," Dante said, his voice low but with an edge of warning. "I'll remind you that Amelia is mine, Luca."
The way Dante said the word mine sent a shiver down Amelia's spine. It was possessive, demanding—like she was a commodity to be fought over. And in a way, she was.
Luca didn't seem fazed. He just smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Of course, Dante. I wouldn't dream of taking her from you."
***********************
The Nightfall
Later that night, after the guests had gone and the mansion had returned to its cold silence, Amelia sat by the window, staring out into the dark night. The stars shone brightly above, but there was no peace in their beauty.
Dante entered the room, his footsteps soundless as he approached her. She felt him before she saw him, the oppressive weight of his presence filling the space.
"You looked beautiful tonight," he said softly, his voice almost tender. "But I saw the way Luca looked at you. Don't forget, Amelia, that no one else touches what's mine."
Amelia's heart skipped a beat. Is that a warning? Or a threat?
She didn't respond immediately, trying to calm her racing thoughts. "I'm not yours to keep," she said, her voice steady despite the unease swirling inside her.
Dante didn't answer right away. Instead, he came closer, his body now just inches from hers. "You'll learn that you are," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "And one day, you'll want to be mine, whether you like it or not