Chapter 3 Ashes and Chains
Chapter -3
Lucas stirred awake as dawn crept into the room. His eyes softened when they fell on Elana curled against the sheets, her lashes fanned over her cheeks, breathing steady in the rarest kind of peace. For a moment, he just watched her, drinking in the innocence he knew he could never deserve.
Bending forward, he brushed his lips over hers slow, possessive, almost reverent before pulling away. He slipped into his gym clothes and left without a sound.
Two hours later, sweat still glistening over his sculpted body, he returned. The clock had barely struck seven when Elana stirred awake.
Her hand reached instinctively for him, but the bed beside her was cold and empty. Heart sinking, she adjusted her clothes and padded softly downstairs.
Her eyes found him in the garden.
Lucas shirt clinging to his body from the workout, cigarette lazily balanced between his fingers, dark eyes lost in thought.
But before she could call out to him, a woman appeared out of nowhere. She slipped into his arms boldly, hugging him as if she belonged there.
Elana’s hand froze on the railing when she spotted the woman in Lucas’s arms.
Her breath hitched.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her fingers curled tight against the wood as the woman’s voice echoed in her skull.
Lucas’s tone dropped like a blade.
“What the hell are you doing here, Rose?”
Rose only smiled, tilting her head.
“ can’t a fiancée hug her soon-to-be husband, Mr. Romeo?”
Elana’s vision blurred. She backed away quietly, heart cracking open, and fled upstairs.
In the garden, Lucas’s jaw flexed as he yanked Rose by the hair.
“Fiancée?” His voice was low, deadly. “Don’t ever call yourself that again.”
She winced, still trying to keep her mask of pride.
“You ”
Lucas cut her off with a cold laugh.
“Your father begged for that arrangement. Do you think I wanted you?” His grip tightened until she gasped. “I used you, Rose. Nothing more. Understand?”
Tears of humiliation welled in her eyes.
“L-Lucas ”
“Get. Out.” His tone was final, ruthless. “Before I end you right here.”
He shoved her away, watching her stumble and flee.
By the time Lucas stepped back inside, his rage had settled into something darker. He spotted Elana descending the staircase.
Her soft voice floated across the hall.
“Good morning.”
Lucas’s lips curved faintly.
“Good morning, butterfly.”
She tried to smile, but he saw the shadow in her eyes. His steps quickened. In one motion, he caged her waist, his hand sliding up to her throat.
Her gasp filled the hall.
“Lucas ”
His mouth crashed onto hers, rough, consuming.
“Mmph ” She moaned into the kiss, hands tangling in his hair despite herself.
Lucas deepened it, claiming her until she was trembling, pressed helplessly against his chest. His hand kneaded her breast through the silk of her dress, dragging another breathless whimper from her lips.
“Say my name,” he growled against her mouth.
Her lashes fluttered, tears brimming as she whispered, broken,
“Lucas…”
His smirk was sinful as he pulled back, his thumb stroking her jaw possessively.
“That’s right. Mine.”
Elana’s heart raced, torn between surrender and escape, her secret plan burning like fire beneath her skin.
Elana sat at the long dining table, her plate untouched. Toast and warm milk sat before her. Lucas’s black coffee steamed beside his plate.
Without a word, Lucas tugged her into his lap.
“Lucas!” she gasped, grabbing his shoulder for balance.
He smirked, burying his face against her chest, breathing her in.
“Mmm… finally. I can breathe.”
Her heart hammered. “W-what are you doing?”
“Feed me.” His voice was low, commanding, muffled against her breasts.
Her eyes widened. “What? Feed you?”
“Yes, butterfly,” he lifted his head, his gaze burning into hers. “Feed me, or I’ll eat you instead.”
Her hands trembled as she picked up a slice of toast and raised it to his lips. He bit into it slowly, deliberately, his lips brushing her fingertips.
She shivered. “Lucas…”
His hand slid across her stomach, fingers teasing. She flinched when he pinched her waist.
She jolted. “Ahh what are you doing, Mr. Romeo?” she whispered, breathless.
His eyes darkened. “You don’t have the right to question me. Only my wife can do that.”
Her body stiffened. “Oh…” The word slipped out, quiet, heavy with hurt.
Lucas tilted her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Don’t make that sound, Elana.”
“But… you ” she started.
He cut her off, growling, “Don’t .”
Before she could speak again, his hand cupped her breast, kneading firmly. She moaned, clapping her hand over her mouth, but he yanked it away.
“Don’t hide your sounds from me.”
“Lucas… please…”
“Say it louder.” He nipped her neck, sucking hard until a mark bloomed.
“Ahh Lucas!” she cried out, writhing in his lap, torn between shame and the dangerous heat curling in her belly.
He pressed her tighter against him, lips dragging over her throat. “That’s better. My butterfly is moaning for me at breakfast… you’re perfect.”
After breakfast, the air in the dining room still hummed with the electric residue of their shared intimacy, Elana's skin flushed and marked by Lucas's unrelenting touch.
Her body ached in ways that both terrified and thrilled her, the memory of his hands kneading her breasts, his lips sucking bruises into her neck, sending fresh waves of heat through her core. But beneath the haze of desire, her resolve hardened like steel. She wouldn't let him consume her not completely.
Not yet.
Lucas rose from the table, his movements fluid and commanding, every inch the mafia king he was. He leaned down, his rough fingers tilting her chin up with a possessiveness that made her pulse race. His storm-gray eyes locked onto hers, dark with unspoken promises and the raw hunger that simmered just below the surface.
"Be good while I'm gone, butterfly," he murmured, his voice a low growl that vibrated through her.
Then, almost tenderly, he pressed his lips to her forehead a kiss that was equal parts affection and ownership, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch.
She watched him stride away, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, the scent of his sweat and cologne clinging to the air like a drug. Part of her wanted to call him back, to lose herself in the dangerous safety of his arms, but the smarter part the survivor in her knew this was her chance. Freedom beckoned, even if it meant risking everything.
In the shadowed underbelly of the city, far from the opulent mansion that served as his fortress, Lucas Romeo reigned supreme. The warehouse loomed like a beast in the industrial district, its rusted metal walls echoing with the low hum of machinery and the sharp clicks of firearms being assembled.
Guards stood at every entrance, their eyes cold and vigilant, assault rifles slung over their shoulders. This was his domain the heart of his illegal empire, where arms and diamonds flowed like blood through veins, fueling wars and fortunes alike.
Lucas entered without a word, his presence alone enough to silence the room. His men straightened, fear and loyalty warring in their gazes. He was dressed in a tailored black suit now, the fabric hugging his sculpted frame, but the sweat from his earlier workout still gleamed faintly on his skin, a reminder of the primal beast beneath the polished exterior.
In his hand, a cigarette burned lazily, the smoke curling around him like a halo of sin.
"Boss," one of his lieutenants, Marco, approached cautiously, a tablet in hand.
"The shipment from Colombia arrived last night. AK-47s, grenades, and a fresh batch of uncut diamonds. But there's a problem the Feds are sniffing around the docks. One of our insiders tipped us off."
Lucas's eyes narrowed to slits, his jaw clenching as he exhaled a plume of smoke. He didn't raise his voice he didn't need to. His ruthlessness was a legend, whispered in the darkest corners of the underworld.
"Handle it," he said, his tone ice cold, laced with the promise of violence.
"Bribe who you can. Kill who you can't. I want no loose ends."
Marco nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, boss. And... the Russians? They're pushing for a bigger cut on the diamond trade."
Lucas's lips curled into a cruel smirk, but there was no humor in it only the predatory gleam of a man who crushed empires for sport. He stubbed out his cigarette on the table, the ember dying with a hiss.
"Tell them to come to the meeting tonight. If they push too hard..." He paused, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper.
"I'll remind them why they fear the Romeo name. Personally."
As his men scrambled to obey, Lucas's mind drifted, unbidden, to Elana. Her green eyes, her fragile innocence, the way she trembled under his touch it ignited something feral in him, a obsession that bordered on madness. But amidst the chaos of deals and death, he had another agenda.
Secret preparations for a marriage that would bind her to him forever. Rings had been commissioned from the finest jewelers, forged from the blood diamonds he controlled. A private chapel on his estate was being readied, priests bought off to ensure silence. She had no idea, his little butterfly, fluttering against the bars of her cage.
But soon, she would be his wife legally, eternally. And if she resisted... well, he would break her wings if it meant keeping her.
A dark chuckle escaped him as he oversaw the unloading of crates, the metallic clank of weapons filling the air. She was trying to run from him, he could sense it in her shadowed eyes. But no one escaped Lucas Romeo. No one.
Back at the mansion, Elana's heart pounded like a war drum, her body still humming from Lucas's morning dominance.
The marks on her neck throbbed, a constant reminder of how he'd claimed her at breakfast his fingers pinching her waist, his mouth devouring her moans as if they were sustenance. She'd cried out his name, writhing in his lap, her core aching with a need she hated herself for feeling. But now, alone in the sprawling prison of luxury, her mind sharpened on one goal: escape.
The security was impenetrable guards patrolled every corridor, cameras watched like unblinking eyes, and the gates were fortified like a fortress. She'd tried slipping out earlier, testing doors and windows, but each attempt met with locked barriers and watchful shadows.
Desperation clawed at her, but so did cleverness. She wouldn't brute-force her way out; she'd outsmart them.
Slipping into the kitchen under the guise of fetching water, Elana moved like a ghost. The staff bustled around her, oblivious to the fragile girl in their midst. Her eyes darted to the pantry, spotting what she needed: a lighter tucked among cooking tools and a small canister of kerosene used for the outdoor grills. Heart racing, she palmed them discreetly, hiding them in the folds of her dress. No one noticed to them, she was just the boss's latest obsession, not a threat.
Upstairs in the guest room she'd claimed as a temporary sanctuary away from Lucas's master suite she gathered a pile of old linens and spare clothes from the closet. Her hands trembled as she doused them in kerosene, the sharp scent filling the air.
This had to look real, chaotic enough to draw every eye. With a flick of the lighter, flames erupted, devouring the fabric in hungry licks. Smoke billowed, thick and acrid, curling toward the ceiling as the fire spread to the curtains, turning the room into an inferno.
Elana backed away, her pulse thundering, as alarms blared to life. Shouts echoed from below"Fire! In the east wing!" Guards and servants rushed toward the blaze, their boots pounding the marble floors.
In the chaos, she darted out, slipping down a side staircase. But she wasn't done being clever. In a nearby maid's quarters, she shed her dress and donned a simple uniform gray skirt, white blouse, hair tied back in a bun. She looked like any other servant now, invisible in the frenzy.
The mansion was alive with panic, flames crackling audibly as water hoses were deployed. Elana crept toward the main gate, heart slamming against her ribs. She hid in the dense bushes lining the perimeter, thorns scraping her skin, but she bit back the pain. Freedom was so close she could taste it on the wind.
"Where's the girl? The boss's woman!" one guard bellowed, his voice cutting through the commotion.
"Search every room! She might be trapped!"
They scoured the burning wing, finding no body, no trace. Panic escalated.
"Open the gates! Check outside take the cars, comb the grounds! If she's gone, the boss will skin us alive!"
The massive iron gates groaned open, vehicles revving as teams poured out. Elana's breath caught.
This was her moment. As a guard turned away, distracted by the shouts, she slipped from the bushes like a shadow, blending with the outflow of staff checking the perimeter. No one spared her a glance; she was just another maid in the madness.
Once outside the gates, the world opened up vast, terrifying, exhilarating. Elana bolted in the opposite direction, away from the city lights, her legs pumping furiously. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with sweat, as the mansion shrank behind her. But even as she ran, a pang twisted in her chest.
Lucas's touch, his possessive whispers, his vulnerable confessions they haunted her. Was she running from a devil... or toward something worse?
The wind whipped her hair, her lungs burning, but she didn't stop. Freedom, at last. But deep down, she knew he would come for her. And when he did, the devil would unleash hell.
In the dimly lit atelier of one of the city's most exclusive designers a hidden gem tucked away in the underbelly of luxury, where blood money bought silence and exquisite silk Lucas Romeo stood like a shadow incarnate.
The room reeked of opulence racks of ivory gowns shimmering under low-hanging chandeliers, fabrics that whispered promises of forever.
His fingers, calloused from years of pulling triggers and breaking bones, traced the delicate lace of a bridal gown he'd selected for Elana.
It was pure white, virginal, with a fitted bodice that would hug her curves like his hands did, and a train that trailed like the chains he intended to bind her with. He imagined her in it trembling, eyes wide with that intoxicating mix of fear and desire, her green gaze locked on him as she walked down the aisle he'd force her into.
Marriage wasn't just a vow it was ownership, etched in gold and sealed in blood. She'd learn that soon enough.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, shattering the reverie. He answered with a curt growl, his voice a blade in the quiet.
"What?"
On the other end, one of his guards Tony, a burly enforcer with more scars than sense stammered, his words tumbling out in a panic.
"Boss... she's gone. The girl your woman. There was a fire in the east wing, a distraction. We searched the mansion, the grounds... she's vanished."
The world tilted, red bleeding into Lucas's vision like spilled blood. The gown slipped from his fingers, crumpling to the floor as his grip tightened on the phone, the device creaking under the pressure. His chest heaved, a primal rage uncoiling in his gut, dark and venomous.
"Gone?" he snarled, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper that made the designer in the corner flinch and avert his eyes.
"You let her escape? My butterfly?"
Tony's voice cracked. "We we're searching, boss. The gates were opened during the chaos "
Lucas exploded. "SEARCH EVERY FUCKING INCH!" he roared, his voice echoing off the walls like thunder in hell.
The designer backed away, trembling, as Lucas paced, his muscles rippling under his suit, veins bulging in his neck. "Block the roads! Seal the city! If one hair on her head is harmed if she so much as stubs her toe you're all dead.
I'll peel your skin off inch by inch, feed your organs to the dogs while you watch. Find her. NOW!"
He slammed the phone down, shattering the screen against the table. His men would feel his wrath later heads would roll, literally but now, the hunt consumed him.
Elana, his obsession, his sin, daring to flee? The thought ignited a fire in his veins, a twisted blend of fury and dark arousal. She'd pay for this defiance, oh yes. He'd drag her back, pin her down, and remind her exactly who she belonged to.
His cock twitched at the image her writhing beneath him, begging for mercy as he claimed every inch of her trembling body, marking her inside and out until she forgot what freedom even tasted like.
Storming out of the atelier, Lucas slid into his blacked-out SUV, the engine roaring to life like a beast unleashed. He floored the accelerator, tires screeching as he tore through the streets, weaving through traffic with reckless abandon. Horns blared, cars swerved to avoid him, but he didn't care.
He barked orders into his earpiece, his voice a cold command that brooked no failure. "Spread out every alley, every shadow. Check the buses, the trains, the fucking sewers if you have to. She's mine. No one touches her but me."
His men mobilized like a dark army, flooding the city checkpoints erected at every major road, drones buzzing overhead, informants shaking down their networks. The underworld quaked under his command dealers, pimps, even rival gangs knew better than to cross Lucas Romeo when his eyes burned with that unholy fire.
"Wrong move, butterfly," he muttered to himself, his knuckles white on the wheel, a sinister smile curling his lips.
"I'll teach you a good lesson. You'll scream my name until it's the only word you know."
The city blurred around him, a labyrinth of neon and decay, but his focus was razor-sharp. Minutes stretched into eternity, his mind replaying every touch, every moan he'd wrung from her lips.
At breakfast, she'd arched into him, her nipples hardening under his palm as he kneaded her breast, her whimpers like music to his blackened soul. And now, she thought she could run? The audacity fueled his darkness, making him harder, hungrier.
His phone rang again, the screen cracked but functional. It was Marco this time, his voice steady but laced with urgency.
"Boss, one of our spotters saw her heading west on foot, toward the outskirts. She's in maid's clothes, trying to blend. Sending the location now."
Lucas's eyes gleamed with predatory triumph, his foot slamming the gas harder.
"Don't touch her," he ordered, his tone a deadly velvet. "Follow silently. If you scare her off, I'll gut you myself. Keep eyes on her I'm close."
The GPS pinged, the dot pulsing like a heartbeat on his dashboard screen. He was minutes away, the distance closing like a noose. The city gave way to sparser roads, trees looming like silent witnesses to the devil's pursuit.
Elana, his fragile, defiant butterfly, had no idea the storm bearing down on her. But soon, she'd feel it his hands on her throat, his body pinning her down, his cock thrusting deep as he punished her for every step she'd taken away from him. She'd learn: escape was an illusion. She was his, body and soul, and he'd drag her back to hell with him.
The hunt was on, and the devil always won.
To be continued.