Chapter 19 Chapter 19.

Chapter 19 Chapter 19.
Francesca stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her with such force that the walls rattled. Fury coursed through her veins like a raging wildfire, her mind racing with thoughts that felt too chaotic to contain. She gripped her hair in frustration, the tension coiling tighter within her as she splayed her hands over the desk, slamming her fists into the surface. "Aria... I swear I’ll send you to join your husband and son. Just you wait and see."

Meanwhile, in the gym, Aria crossed her arms, giving Lucien a piercing look that demanded answers. "Last night. What did it mean?"

Lucien arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms in a mock display of innocence. "Did we do anything particular last night? I don't remember," he replied playfully.

"Lucien!" She interjected, her irritation rising.

“Fine,” he chuckled, the glint in his eye revealing just enough amusement. “What do you want to know?”

"First, where did you take me last night? What was that gathering?” she asked, her voice steady but with an underlying edge.

"My gang," he replied casually, a slight smirk touching his lips.

“Gang or a cult?” she pressed, eyes narrowing.

“Take it however you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a member now,” Lucien responded, unwavering.

“I'm not,” Aria declared defiantly.

“You are,” he countered coolly.

“You tricked me!” she shot back, indignation flooding her tone.

“I didn’t,” he retorted. “You joined willingly the moment you signed the contract.” She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Next question,” Lucien prompted, clearly enjoying their banter.

“Why did you make me pose as your bride?” she asked, crossing her arms tighter.

“Because you're mine. I have the right to use you in whatever way I please,” he replied nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather.

Aria scoffed, more out of annoyance than disbelief. 

“Got any other questions?” he inquired with casual ease.

“When do we begin taking down Marius?” she asked, determination threading her voice.

“When you’re ready to take him down,” he answered, his tone inscrutable.

"What?" Aria stared at him, disbelief threading through her voice.

“If I wasn’t ready, do you really think I’d come to you?” she challenged, her gaze piercing.

“Put Francesca on her ass, and then I’ll know you’re ready,” he said, a smirk ghosting his lips.

“Why do you keep asking me to do that?” Aria lashed out, her frustration bubbling over.

“When you finally do it, you’ll understand why I asked,” he replied, voice steady, almost taunting.

Aria scoffed, her eyes narrowing as her frustration simmered just below the surface. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she accused, the weight of her words heavy in the air.

Lucien’s smile widened, glinting with mischief. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, leaning back slightly. “But it’s not just for fun, Aria. I’m being serious here.”

Her unwavering gaze met his, determination etched into her features. “I’ll take down Marius and I’ll deal with Francesca too,” she stated, her voice chillingly calm.

Lucien’s chuckle echoed low and menacing. “I’m looking forward to it,” he replied, a flash of something dark in his eyes. “But for now, we need to focus on your training. You have a lot to learn.”

Aria’s anger flared, but she swallowed her retort, resolve hardening her expression. 

“Shall we?” Lucien spoke, gesturing towards the gym equipments, and then she lost it.

“What training? I’m sick and tired of all this!” she exploded, the pent-up frustration finally breaking free.

“Fine,” he said, acknowledging her frustration with a nod. “But you’re really impatient. It’s only the second day, and you’re already worn out.”

Ignoring him, she turned to leave.

“Oh, I remember now, you’ve always been impatient… in the past and even now,” he added, his voice playful but laced with challenge.

His words ignited a flame of irritation within her. As she was about to walk out, he raised his hand, palm open. "Punch me," he demanded, voice firm and unwavering.

“What?” Aria raised an eyebrow, arms folding tighter over her chest.

Lucien stepped forward, closing the space between them with slow, calculated confidence. “I said punch me,” he repeated, voice low but firm.

“Is this one of your twisted games again?” she snapped.

“No. It’s the first step,” he replied, tapping his chest. “You say you’re ready. You say you’re tired of the training. Then show me. Punch me, Aria.”

Aria hesitated, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. “You think this is some kind of lesson in strength?”

Lucien didn’t move. “Not just that. It’s also a lesson in resolve. If you can’t hit the devil, you’ll never conquer him.”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. Her mind flashed with every betrayal, every moment of grief—the smell of blood, the sound of silence where her child’s laughter used to be. Francesca’s smug glances. The mockery in the eyes of the cops who refused to help her. Marius' name still stung like acid.

She let out a slow breath, eyes narrowing, heart pounding.

Then she threw the punch.

Lucien didn’t block it. Her fist collided with his chest—not hard enough to knock him back, but enough to make him grunt and step slightly to the side.

She exclaimed a silent wow to herself, surprised by the gravity of her own punch. 

“Not bad,” he said, rubbing the spot she struck. “Again.”

“No.”

“Why not?” He smirked.

“Because I’m not wasting punches,” she growled. “Next one’s for someone who actually deserves it.”

Lucien let out a dark laugh. “Now you’re getting it.”

She moved to walk past him, but he caught her wrist—gently, but firmly.

She turned to glare at him. “What?”

“You’re angry,” he said, his tone shifting to something more intimate. “Good. Anger is fuel, Aria. But control is the fire that keeps it burning. Lose that control, and you’ll burn yourself instead.”

His grip didn’t hurt, but it made her feel the weight of his authority. His dominance wasn’t always loud—it was coiled, steady. Dangerous.

“And you think I don’t have control?” she asked, voice like a blade.

Lucien leaned in, lips grazing her ear as he whispered, “We’ll find out soon enough.”

She yanked her wrist free, her breath hitching at the sudden proximity and the effect it had on her body.

“You’re insane,” she muttered, backing away.

He only smiled. “No. I’m precise.”

Before Aria could respond, Francesca appeared at the doorway, her face carefully composed.

“Sir,” she said, her voice clipped. “You have a call from Belarus. They’re waiting.”

Lucien turned to her, giving a short nod. “I’ll take it in the study.”

As he walked off, Francesca’s gaze drifted to Aria—sharp, cold, assessing. “I’d be careful, if I were you.”

Aria raised a brow. “Is that a threat?”

Francesca smiled, but there was nothing warm in it. “Just a reminder. This world isn’t for the weak. And you’ve lost too much already to survive it.”

Aria took a step forward, her voice low. “Then don’t blink. You might miss what I become next.”