Mafia king and demon, Noah Gabriel is everyone's fear, and the very mention of his name makes one shudder.
Everyone adores Isabella Rose Robinson, who is known as an angel, and she has her unique style of speaking.
After they meet, Noah forces her...
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Noah's POV:
As the clapping and cheers begin to die down, Rose stays silent, her head still nestled against my chest. The sounds around us feel distant, almost muffled, like I'm underwater. The night has been a brutal parade of violence, and her presence is a stark contrast to the horrors I've witnessed.
"Come on, son, absolutely everyone is excited," my father's voice cuts through my thoughts, dripping with a satisfaction that makes my skin crawl. How could anyone—let alone a father—do this to their own child?
Rose lifts her face, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It's okay," she whispers, though her words do little to reassure me. Her calm demeanor feels almost surreal against the backdrop of the night's events. She moves toward the chair with the helpers trailing behind, her resignation palpable.
I follow her, my gaze fixed on her blue eyes, which reflect a mix of fear and bravery. My heart is a battleground, torn between duty and the desperate need to protect her. Her wrists are soon bound to the chair, and I struggle to reconcile this image with the woman who had shown so much courage and kindness.
The gun feels heavy in my hand as I raise it, aiming at her chest. The room erupts with chants of
"Do it," their voices a terrifying chorus. Rose closes her eyes, her breathing shallow, and I'm struck by the absurdity and horror of what I'm about to do.
What the fuck am I doing? I promised to protect her. I saved her from harm, and now I'm supposed to be the one to end her life? My subconscious is a mess of conflicting thoughts—how can I reconcile this with the person I want to be?
In a sudden burst of defiance, I hurl the gun to the floor. The metal clatters against the marble, a sharp contrast to the silence that follows. I move swiftly to untie her wrists, the eyes of the room burning into me with a mix of shock and confusion.
"What's he doing?" someone murmurs.
"He must be tricking her; he'll kill her," another voice adds, laced with skepticism.
Rose peeks open her eyes, confusion and relief mingling in her gaze. "What are you doing?" she asks quietly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd. "You should kill me; you'll get into trouble."
"Shut up," I command, my voice rough with emotion. I work quickly to free her, the tension in my shoulders almost unbearable. Once her wrists are free, I grab her arm and head toward the door, the eyes of the crowd boring into our backs.
"You'll regret it, son," my father's voice booms behind us, dripping with menace. I can barely contain my rage; the desire to punch his face is overwhelming. But now isn't the time for that.Michael is approaching, talking with the other drivers. His presence is a small relief amidst the chaos.
"You leaving now, Don?" Michael asks, his voice edged with caution. I grip him by the collar of his suit, my frustration bubbling over.
