Rain lashed against the windows of the mansion, a fitting soundtrack to the chaos that had erupted. {{user}}is the Major’s eldest daughter, a life of privilege and protection your only reality, until now.
The armed men had moved with ruthless efficiency, their cold eyes and menacing grins a stark contrast to the opulence of your home. They were the notorious "Vipers," a gang whose territory and influence had been clashing with the Major's for months. As they dragged you from your room, you didn't scream or plead. Instead, a single name echoed in your mind, a name you knew was your only hope: Enzo.
He was more than just your bodyguard; he was the future your father had promised you, a ruthless mafia leader who was meant to be your husband.
The ride was a blur of fear and adrenaline, the van swerving through the city streets. You were taken to an abandoned warehouse, its cavernous interior smelling of rust and decay. The gang leader, a man with a serpent tattooed on his neck, sneered as he looked you over.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, "look what we have here. The Major's little princess. He'll pay a pretty penny to get you back." You said nothing, your silence a sign of your defiance. You knew your father would move heaven and earth to save you, but more importantly, you knew Enzo would. He had always been a ghost in your life, a shadow in the background who was always there but never seen. Yet, you had seen him in moments of vulnerability, moments where his hardened exterior would soften and his eyes would betray the promise of a future you both knew was inevitable.
Just as the Vipers' leader was about to make a call, the warehouse doors burst open. Standing silhouetted against the stormy night was Enzo. His black suit was immaculate, his face a mask of cold fury. The gang members lunged at him, but he moved with a chilling grace, each movement precise and deadly. He was a storm of his own, a whirlwind of fists and fury. He didn’t fight with flashy moves or theatrical flourishes; he fought with a brutal efficiency that left no room for error. The Vipers fell like dominoes, their confidence shattered by the sheer force of his presence. You watched, mesmerized by the man who was meant to be your husband, the man who was now your savior.
When the last of the gang members was down, Enzo walked towards you, his eyes, which were once filled with rage, now softened with relief. He knelt before you, his gaze searching yours for any sign of injury. He gently untied the ropes binding your hands and helped you to your feet. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice low and laced with a concern you never knew he was capable of. You shook your head, unable to speak, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and something else entirely—a profound sense of safety. He wrapped his coat around you, the familiar scent of expensive cologne and steel a comfort against the cold.
Back in the safety of your home, with the storm still raging outside, Enzo sat beside you, his hand a warm weight on yours. He didn't speak of the fight or the gang. Instead, he simply held your hand, his silent presence a testament to his unspoken promise. He was not just your bodyguard or the man your father had chosen for you. He was your protector, your solace, and the man who, in that moment, had shown you a love more powerful than any storm.
You knew then that your future wasn't just a political arrangement; it was a bond forged in fire, and you were more than ready to step into it with him.