His POV

I don’t believe in marriage.

In my world, people marry for power, money, and survival. Love is a weakness that gets you killed.

Still, I stood at the altar in a black suit, waiting for a girl I had never chosen.

The hall was silent when she entered.

She didn’t look like someone who belonged here. Too calm. Too small for a place built on violence. Her white dress looked fragile against the darkness that followed me everywhere.

Twenty-one years old.

That’s what they told me. Young enough to control. Easy enough to break.

Our families watched us like judges. This wasn’t a wedding—it was a deal. A contract sealed with rings instead of signatures.

When she reached my side, I finally looked at her properly.

She didn’t tremble.

That caught my attention.

Most people feared me. I saw it in their eyes, their voices, their silence. But her gaze was steady, lowered, careful—not scared.

Interesting.

“This marriage has rules,” I said quietly, leaning close so only she could hear.
“You follow them, and nothing will harm you.”

She nodded without speaking.

Obedient.
Or pretending to be.

Either way, she was mine now.

Her POV

Everyone thought I was the weakest person in the room.

The young bride.
The silent girl.
The mafia king’s wife.

They were wrong.

I stood beside him, feeling the weight of his presence, the danger in his calm voice. He thought this marriage gave him control over me.

I let him believe that.

The ring on my finger was cold. Heavy. A symbol of a cage built from power and fear.

I kept my head down, hiding what no one could know. Not yet.

Because if the truth ever came out, this world would burn.

He thought he was my protector.
He thought he owned me.

But I didn’t walk into this marriage unprepared.

I wasn’t trapped with him.

He was trapped with me.

His POV

The priest’s voice echoed through the hall, dull and empty. Words about loyalty and forever meant nothing here. Forever didn’t exist in my world. Only survival did.

I barely listened.

My eyes stayed on her.

She stood beside me, quiet, hands folded, lashes lowered. Anyone else would think she was scared. Anyone else would think she was weak.

But something about her silence felt wrong.

Too controlled.

When the priest asked if I accepted her as my wife, the room held its breath.

“I do,” I said without hesitation.

A lie spoken easily.

Then it was her turn.

Her fingers tightened slightly before she spoke. Just for a second. So small that no one noticed—except me.

“I do,” she said.

Her voice didn’t shake.

The ring slid onto her finger, and the moment it did, the room felt colder. As if something unseen had locked into place.

Applause followed. Fake smiles. Dangerous men watching from the shadows. This wedding wasn’t a celebration—it was a warning to anyone who dared challenge me.

She was my proof of power now.

When it was over, I leaned closer to her.

“From tonight,” I whispered, “your life changes.”

She looked up at me for the first time.

Her eyes met mine.

And for the first time in years, I felt something unfamiliar.

Not desire.

Not love.

Caution.

---

Her POV

The vows tasted like lies.

I repeated them anyway.

When he placed the ring on my finger, my skin burned—not from fear, but from the weight of what I had just accepted. This marriage was not a mistake.

It was a step.

The hall was full of monsters dressed like men. Guns hidden under jackets. Eyes that judged, measured, waited.

I smiled softly when I was supposed to. I bowed my head when expected.

I played my part perfectly.

When he leaned close and told me my life had changed, I almost laughed.

He had no idea.

As we walked down the aisle together, his hand wrapped around my wrist—not gently, not cruelly. Just firm. Possessive.

A message.

You belong to me.

I let him hold me.

Because sometimes, the safest place to hide is right beside the devil.

---

His POV

That night, the mansion was silent.

She stood in the bedroom like she didn’t belong there. White walls. Dark furniture. A room built for control.

“This is your room,” I said. “Mine is across the hall.”

Her head snapped up.

Surprise flashed across her face—real this time.

“You will stay out of trouble,” I continued. “You will not ask questions. And you will not leave without my permission.”

She nodded.

Again, no fear.

That unsettled me more than screaming ever could.

As I turned to leave, her voice stopped me.

“What happens if I break the rules?”

I looked back at her.

“You don’t want to find out.”

She held my gaze, calm as still water.

“Neither do you,” she said quietly.

For the first time that night, I didn’t reply.

Because something told me this marriage was not going to be as simple as I planned.

And in my world, surprises were deadly.