The Prince And The Rose
- Reads 1,117
- Votes 4
- Parts 1
MatureOngoing<5 mins
Last published Sun, May 24, 2026
A Tale As Old As Time... A Whole New World... We Must Have Courage and Be Kind 🧞♂️🌹🤴
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Malachai Alvarez and his family held the highest position in the mafia elite of Cinderwood, a position they had inherited after his uncle's murder of the patriarch of the Jamison family. The ensuing chaos led to the division of territories among the surviving families. Trapped between the prince and the beast, Malachi embarked on a quest to dismantle the darkness that had raised him.
Isabella Valentino adopted the masked hero identity of the Rose to protect her community, after the unexpected death of her mother. While the Rose saves her home, Isabella herself serves it. Balancing running the family bakery, caring for her younger sister, and a hero only proves her willingness to stay in the light. What happens when the two of them discover they aren't fighting alone?
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She first met him in a therapy group for trauma survivors. He didn't speak much, but his eyes lingered too long, as though he could peel back her skin and read every wound carved into her bones. She told herself it was wrong, that she should avoid him, but the silence between them became magnetic. When they finally spoke, it wasn't gentle. It was raw. He told her he saw the same madness in her that lived inside him, the same hunger to feel something sharp, something real. Their first kiss tasted like blood-his lip split when she bit too hard, and instead of stopping, he pulled her closer. Soon, their nights together blurred between sex and confession. They carved secrets into each other's skin, whispered things no one else could ever hear. But his love was never safe-it was possessive, suffocating, like drowning in warm water. He wanted to break her just to put her back together. She wanted to burn in him until nothing of herself remained. The deeper they sank, the less they could tell the difference between passion and violence, between devotion and destruction. She began seeing him in places he couldn't possibly be-in mirrors, in her dreams, in the shadows of her room. He said he was inside her now, that their bond was irreversible. When her therapist asked about the bruises on her neck, she smiled and said nothing. Because the truth was this: she didn't want to be saved. She wanted to be consumed. And so she let him.
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