**Isabelle's.**
Still trembling, my eyes squeezed shut, I stood my ground. Not looking at him. Not giving him the satisfaction.
Matteo. My future husband. The name burned like acid in my throat.
I didn't know him—not truly—but I knew enough. Enough to understand the kind of man he was. The kind of man who wasn't used to being refused. Who didn't let anything slip through his grasp without consequence.
And here I was—his future bride—standing in defiance, knowing full well it could cost me more than I was ready to pay.
His footsteps were slow, deliberate, each one echoing in the tense silence. I stood perfectly still, my body trembling, my heart racing as he drew closer. I didn't want to look, but my curiosity betrayed me.
I cracked one eye open just enough to see him. He was tall—taller than I'd expected. His dark hair was neatly swept back, and his hazel eyes gleamed with a sharpness that seemed to pierce through me. A faint beard traced his strong jawline, giving him an edge that was both rugged and refined. The scar on his upper lip only added to his dangerous allure, as though it marked him as someone who'd seen and done things that had shaped him into the man he was now.
I had heard the whispers—people called him a monster, a villain. But standing here, seeing him up close, he didn't look like that at all. No, he looked... different. Handsome, even. Too handsome. There was something almost mesmerizing about him—something that made the air feel thicker, heavier, as if I were in the presence of someone far more dangerous than the rumors had ever let on.
He wasn't the brute I had been warned about. He was more. He was the kind of man who could destroy you without ever raising a hand. And I couldn't help but feel the weight of that truth settle deep in my chest.
The air shifted. His presence filled the space, suffocating, heavy. I didn't need to look to know he was standing there, towering over me, his eyes no doubt burning into me with a sharpness I could feel even from where I stood.
His voice came next—low, measured—but with a power that sent a chill down my spine.
"I don't tolerate disobedience," he said, his tone dead serious, like a warning I should've heeded long before this moment. There was no warmth in his voice, no sign of mercy. Only cold command. He was used to being obeyed, used to getting what he wanted. And right now, he wanted me to wear the damn wedding dress.
"I gave you a choice," he continued, stepping closer. I could feel the tension in his words, his eyes narrowing as he looked me over. "And you chose to make things difficult. To waste my time." His voice was tight, controlled, and I could hear the steel behind every word.
I refused to open my eyes, though I could feel the weight of his gaze on me like a suffocating blanket.
"Look at me," he demanded, his voice firm and uncompromising.
"You've already cost someone their life because of your stubbornness. Do you understand that?"
I didn't answer. How could I? How could I possibly explain the horror of what was unfolding? How could I say anything when I was paralyzed with fear, the cold realization setting in that this man—this Matteo—was capable of anything?
He didn't wait for an answer. "This isn't a game," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. "You may believe you can act outside of my expectations, but you are mistaken. You will wear the dress, and you will proceed with this union. There is no alternative. Not with me."
I could feel him getting closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating, like a storm building on the horizon. He stood there for a moment, letting his words hang in the air like a thick fog before adding,
"You've made your choice. Now, you will deal with the consequences."
I stood there, shaking with a mix of fear and defiance, my body trembling under the weight of Matteo's presence. The pressure of his control, the suffocating grip he had on my life, was more than I could bear. Something inside me snapped. I had tried to convince myself that there was a way out, that there was a chance for freedom. But now, I knew the truth.
And I said it.
"You know what? This marriage is bullshit. Matter of fact, this marriage is a mistake," I spat, my voice shaking but clear. "I never wanted this. I never agreed to be your pawn. This... this whole thing was a mistake."
The words felt like a challenge thrown directly at him, each one burning with the heat of my defiance. I saw a flicker in his eyes—a cold, calculating glint—but I didn't care. I had said what I needed to say. The fight within me flared one last time.
Then, a desperate thought took over.
I couldn't stand there anymore. I couldn't let him control me like this. No matter how dangerous he was, I had to try.
Without thinking, I turned and bolted toward the door. My heart hammered in my chest, my feet pounding the floor as I reached for the doorknob. It felt so close—freedom, just within my grasp. But my palms were slick with sweat, my fingers slipping as I tried to twist the knob. It felt like I was slipping away from him.
"Isabella, stop."
His voice was a sharp command, slicing through the air like a whip. But I didn't stop. I couldn't. I could feel the air around me growing thicker, more suffocating as I moved closer to escape.
Then, it happened. Before I could even turn the knob fully, I felt the brutal grip of his hand wrap around my wrist. In a flash, I was pulled back with such force that I slammed into his chest, the air knocked out of my lungs. I struggled, my body twisting in his grasp, but it was useless. He was too strong. Too quick.
"Did you really think you could leave?" Matteo's voice was low, almost amused as he leaned in close, his breath hot against my skin. "You think you can just walk away? That you have the luxury of escaping me?"
I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, and the cold reality of the situation set in. There was no escape. Not from him. Not now. His face was inches from mine as he held me in place, his fingers digging into my wrist. Then, without any warning, he pulled something from his waistband.
The metallic click of his gun being drawn sounded louder than my heartbeat, and I froze. It was like the world had gone still. The weapon was now in his hand, pointed downward but ominous, its cold presence filling the space between us.
"Don't make me repeat myself," he said, his voice colder than before, laced with dark amusement.
"You think you can defy me? You think running away will change anything?" He slowly raised the gun, pointing it upward. His eyes never left me as he spoke.
I stood my ground, my pulse thundering in my ears as Matteo's words pressed down on me like a weight. "You're mine, Isabella," he said, his voice dark and commanding. "You will do what I say. You think denying me would get you anywhere?"
I refused to let his presence break me, despite the gun glinting in his hand, its cold, silent threat hanging in the air. Every inch he stepped forward felt like a tightening noose, but I wouldn't give in. Not yet.
"No."
I spat, my voice shaking, but the fire in my chest burned through the fear. "I'm not yours. And I won't do a single thing you say. I won't listen to you, Matteo."
His smile faltered, but the coldness in his eyes deepened, like he was savoring the challenge. "You really think you can defy me? You think your resistance means anything?" He took a slow step closer, the barrel of the gun still pointed at the floor, but the threat was there, a constant reminder of the power he held.
"I'm not your puppet," I continued, my voice steadying. "You can point that gun at me, threaten me, but I won't bend to you."
Matteo's lips twisted into a cruel smirk, his gaze unwavering. He stepped closer, the air thick with tension, but something in his eyes flickered—was it doubt? I wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of breaking me. I had made my choice. And I would stand by it, no matter the cost.
"You can threaten me all you want, and I'll never be yours," I said, meeting his gaze with everything I had. "And I won't do what you say."
Matteo's smirk only deepened as he raised the gun slightly, the tension thickening. "We'll see about that, Isabella," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
The words hung in the air, a promise, a threat, a challenge—and I knew then that there was no going back.
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