The night air was thick with fog, wrapping the city in an eerie silence that felt suffocating. Marina's breath came in shallow gasps as she approached the imposing gates of Viktor Castellano's estate.
But her journey to this place hadn't been easy.
Hours earlier, Marina had been a prisoner in her own home—the Vasiliev estate, a grand and cold structure that once felt like a sanctuary but had turned into a gilded cage. After overhearing her father's plans to end her life, every shadow in the sprawling mansion had felt like a threat.
Her escape had been nothing short of desperate.
She had waited until the house was cloaked in the silence of the early hours, her heart pounding as she slipped out of her room. Every step down the marble staircase felt like a risk; every creak of the wooden floorboards a potential betrayal. Marina had avoided the usual exits, knowing they were likely watched. Instead, she had braved the servants' quarters, sneaking through the kitchens and out into the frosty garden.
The cold night air stung her skin as she darted across the expansive grounds, the towering hedges casting eerie shadows in the moonlight. Her breath puffed in white clouds as she pressed herself against the outer wall, listening for any sound of pursuit. When none came, she scaled the wall—her fingers numb as she clung to the rough stone.
When her feet finally hit the ground on the other side, relief had flooded her. But it was short-lived.
Her escape hadn't gone unnoticed.
The low hum of a car engine broke the silence as headlights swept over the nearby road. Panic set in as Marina ducked into the nearby thicket of trees, her hands trembling as she crouched low. The car slowed, its occupants clearly searching for something—or someone.
She didn't dare breathe until the vehicle moved on, its taillights disappearing into the distance. Only then did she emerge, heart racing as she hailed the first passing cab she saw.
When the driver had asked for her destination, she hesitated only briefly. There was only one name that came to mind—a name that carried both hope and terror.
"Viktor Castellano," she whispered.
The driver's eyes had widened, but he said nothing, merely nodding and driving her through the fog-drenched streets until the cab came to a halt before the gates of Viktor's estate.
Now, standing before the towering wrought-iron gates, Marina couldn't shake the feeling that she had traded one prison for another.
The night air was thick with fog, wrapping the city in an eerie silence that felt suffocating. Marina's breath came in shallow gasps as she stood in front of the imposing gates of Viktor Castellano's estate. She had no idea what she was walking into—only that she had no other choice. Her family was out to kill her, and Viktor Castellano was the only one who could keep her alive.
She had expected the mansion to be grand, to exude power and wealth, but what greeted her was something far darker. The tall, wrought-iron gates were like the bars of a prison, and the long, winding driveway that led to the main house seemed to stretch into the abyss of night.
The mansion itself stood like a shadow against the sky, its towering silhouette casting a long, menacing shadow. As she walked up the path, Marina couldn't shake the feeling that she was being drawn into something she couldn't escape. The cold wind whispered secrets of violence and bloodshed, of deals made in the dark, and of the man she was about to meet.
The door swung open before she even had a chance to knock, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark, piercing eyes. His presence was enough to make her heart race, a silent warning that she was stepping into a world that didn't care about her well-being.
"Miss Vasiliev," the man said, his voice as cold as the night. "Come in."
She nodded, trying to steady her nerves as she stepped inside. The interior of the house was just as imposing as the outside—gothic architecture, dark wood panels, and expensive furnishings that screamed wealth. But it was the atmosphere that made her uneasy. The air was thick with power, and the silence between the walls felt oppressive. Every corner seemed to hold secrets, every shadow a threat.
Marina felt small, insignificant, as though she were nothing more than a pawn in a game she didn't understand. She wanted to turn and run, but she couldn't. Not now.
The man led her down a long corridor, and with each step, Marina's heart beat faster, louder. When they reached a large, oak door, he knocked once and then opened it, revealing a study that looked as though it belonged in a different time—a room filled with leather-bound books, an imposing desk, and a fire crackling in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room.
And then, sitting behind the desk, was Viktor Castellano.
He was even more imposing in person than she had imagined. His dark eyes fixed on her as soon as she stepped inside, his gaze unwavering, like a predator sizing up its prey. His sharp jawline, chiseled features, and dark, almost untamed hair gave him an air of dominance that seemed to fill the room. Every inch of him radiated power, control, and something darker—something that made Marina's pulse quicken in a way she didn't understand.
"Sit," Viktor ordered, his voice low and commanding.
Marina hesitated only for a moment before she took the seat across from him. Her hands were clammy, and she folded them in her lap to stop the trembling. She had never been in the presence of someone so dangerous, so utterly in control. And yet, there was something magnetic about him—something that drew her in, despite the danger he represented.
Viktor's gaze never left her as he leaned back in his chair, studying her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. He didn't speak right away, and the silence between them felt suffocating, as though he was waiting for her to break.
Marina swallowed hard. "I... I need your help."
Viktor raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. "You've already asked for it, haven't you?"
Her throat tightened, but she nodded. "Yes. I need protection. My family—they want me dead. They're going to kill me."
His expression didn't change. He didn't show pity, didn't even flinch. "And why should I care?"
"I... I have something," she stammered, looking down at her hands. "Something that could ruin everything. My father's career, his deals—he's been involved in things with people he shouldn't have been. And now, because of that, he wants me gone. He's ordered my death."
Viktor's eyes gleamed with interest. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "So, you're offering me the secret in exchange for protection?"
Marina nodded, the weight of her decision heavy on her chest. "Yes. I'll give you everything I know. In exchange for safety. For my life."
For a moment, Viktor was silent. His gaze never wavered from her, as though he were considering the offer carefully. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he leaned back in his chair again.
"You're brave," he said, his voice dark with something she couldn't place. "Most people would have run. But you came to me instead. Do you know what that means?"
Marina's breath hitched. "I don't—"
"It means," Viktor interrupted, his voice now cold and final, "that you belong to me."
Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and a chill ran through her. She had known there would be a price. She had known that the protection he offered would come at a cost. But to hear it from him—you belong to me—felt like a chain being placed around her neck.
"I—" she started to protest, but Viktor held up a hand.
"I don't care what you offer me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "When you walk through my door, you don't leave without my mark on you. You'll give me what I want, or you'll regret it. Understand?"
Marina's pulse raced. She couldn't deny it—there was something dark and compelling about Viktor. His power, his presence, the way he made her feel like she had no choice but to surrender. She had made a deal with the devil, and now, there was no turning back.
"Yes," she whispered. "I understand."
Viktor's lips curved into a predatory smile, his eyes darkening with something that felt far more dangerous than the deal they had just struck.
"Good," he said, standing up and walking around the desk. "Then let's begin."