THE ENEMY ROSES

The night was painted in blood and silence.
Adrian Moretti leaned back in the leather seat of his blacked-out car, cigarette smoke curling around him like a halo of sin. His men sat rigid, waiting for the signal. The city outside pulsed with neon lights, but for Adrian, all he saw was the target. The daughter of his enemy!

"Make it quick. No witnesses," He muttered. Voice low and sharp enough to slice through bone. His men nodded. When Adrian spoke, no one questioned.

For years, he had hunted revenge. Every move was a calculated strike, every breath a reminder of the war carved into his veins. Tonight was supposed to be another piece of the puzzle.
Simple.
Brutal.
Effective.
Kidnap her.
Break his rival's spine with fear.
But fate had other plans.

Elena Rivera never imagined the chill of night could turn into a nightmare. She was walking home, her heels tapping against the cracked pavement, clutching her bag close. The streets were too quiet, too heavy with something unseen.
Then came the shadow. The van. The hands.
A sharp cry clawed its way out of her throat, muffled instantly by a rough palm. Panic clawed through her chest as she kicked, scratched, and fought. But the men were too strong, too ruthless. A blindfold smothered her world into blackness, ropes cut into her wrists and the smell of smoke and leather filled her lungs.

She had been taken.

"You don't give orders here, dolcezza," He whispered. His voice like a knife sliding across skin. He reached out, brushed a strand of hair from her face and Elena flinched. His smile widened, dark and cruel.

"You're mine now."

And in that moment, Elena knew her life was no longer hers. She had been stolen by the devil himself!