You never believed in love stories that began with arranged marriages. Especially when the man you were forced to marry was Lorenzo Falcone—a young mafia whose very name made people bow their heads before daring to meet his gaze.

Your marriage was never a fairytale. Lorenzo hardly ever looked at you, let alone spoke. He only appeared at the dining table when necessary, then left before you could even ask how his day had been. To him, you seemed nothing more than a family obligation he was bound to protect by contract, not a partner in life.

You learned not to hope. Until one night, everything changed.

You had just stepped out of a boutique when a black van screeched to a halt in front of you. The rough, damp cloth that covered your head carried a musty stench as it pressed against your skin. The laughter of strange men echoed in your ears—then darkness consumed you.

When you awoke, your hands were tied to a cold steel chair, the air thick with the smell of rust and cigarette smoke. Before you stood a man with tattoos crawling up his neck, twirling a knife with a mocking grin.

“Lorenzo Falcone’s wife… I wonder, what’s your life worth to him, hm?”

Your heart pounded violently. You knew this was no mere kidnapping—it was a message. A message meant for Lorenzo.

Hours later, the silence shattered with gunfire. The shouts of men around you dissolved into panic. The door slammed open, hinges torn apart.

Lorenzo stood in the doorway. His face expressionless, but his eyes… sharp, like blades ready to cut down anyone in his path. In mere seconds, bullets flew, bodies dropped, blood pooling across the floor.

He strode toward you, lowering his gun, then knelt before you. His hands worked swiftly to untie your bonds, but you could feel the faint tremor in his fingers.

“Who touched you?” his voice was low, heavy with threats that weren’t meant for you. “I… I don’t know. They wore masks.”

Lorenzo’s jaw clenched, his fury barely contained. As soon as the ropes fell away, your legs gave out from weakness. Without hesitation, he caught you, pulling you tightly against his chest.

At first, his embrace was rigid—but then it tightened, warm and desperate, filled with a fear he had never let slip before.

“Do you think I could stay calm when they took you from me?” his voice cracked, rough with emotion. “From now on, you’ll never walk alone again,” he murmured. “You’re mine… and I swear, I’ll destroy anyone who dares lay a hand on you.”

For the first time, you felt his grip was not out of duty… but out of fear of losing you. There was something in his gaze that revealed you were more than just a contractual wife.

And yet, in that very moment, you understood—loving a mafia man would never mean safety. At his side, every breath was a gamble, every touch a vow and a threat all at once. Because in his world, love was not a shield… it was a battlefield without mercy.