The Mafia Bride Of The Police

The pearls around Leora Valencia's neck felt like chains, cold, suffocating, and inescapable.

She sat on the edge of the velvet-cushioned chair in her father's expansive study, surrounded by mahogany shelves filled with ancient books and gold-framed portraits of dead men with lifeless eyes. The air reeked of cigar smoke and old power, a combination that always made her throat itch.

Across from her, Franklin Valencia, her father and the most feared underworld magnate in the southern bloc, stood with a glass of brandy in one hand and her future in the other.

"You will marry Adam Luciano," he declared, voice like cracked ice.

Leora's fingers tightened around the armrest. Her heart had been hammering since he summoned her with no explanation, and now the reason stood before her, tall, cruel, and wrapped in an expensive suit. "He's twice my age," she said softly.

"And twice as important," Franklin replied without looking at her. He tilted his glass and took a slow sip, his gaze drifting out the tall window overlooking the iron-wrought gates. "This marriage is strategic. You're not marrying for love, you're a Valencia. You marry for power."

Power. That damned word again. It had been drilled into her since childhood. How to speak with power, walk with power, smile without ever showing weakness. But she wasn't a pawn, and she wasn't built for this blood-soaked empire.

"I'm not doing it." Her voice trembled, but the words rang firm.

Franklin turned his head sharply. "Excuse me?"

Leora stood. She wanted to shrink under his glare, but she didn't. "I said I'm not marrying Adam. He's vile, controlling, and treats women like collectibles."

Her father's lips curled into a cold smirk. "You'll be his most prized one, then."

"I'm not for sale," she hissed.

The brandy glass shattered against the wall before she saw it leave his hand. She flinched, heart leaping into her throat.

"You forget your place, girl!" he growled. "You're mine to give. Adam Luciano is offering us protection, alliance, and legacy. You think your silly notions of love mean anything in our world? Grow up."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. Showing weakness was dangerous. But staying silent... that would be worse.

"I'd rather die than marry him."

A chilling silence followed.

Franklin slowly walked toward her, stopping just inches from her face. His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Do not tempt me."

Leora's entire body trembled. He wouldn't kill her, but he could destroy her in other ways. Lock her up. Strip her of everything. He'd done it before to those who defied him.

She had to leave. Tonight.

Later that night, Leora stared at her reflection in the mirror, still dressed in the champagne-colored gown her father had ordered for the engagement dinner that never happened. The pearls were gone, tossed into the fireplace.

She reached for the drawer under her vanity and pulled out a worn envelope, the one she'd hidden for months. Inside were notes she'd scribbled secretly: names, routes, phone numbers... and one name circled over and over.

Don Allerick.

The name alone was dangerous to utter in this house.

The crippled son of her father's greatest enemy. Rumor had it that her father was responsible for the hit that left Allerick in a wheelchair, and that the Don had sworn to end the Valencia bloodline in return. Allerick had power, reach, and a reputation for ruthless silence. No one crossed him and lived to boast.

He was the last place a Valencia should ever run to.

But he was her only chance.

She grabbed a small duffel bag from under the bed and stuffed it with cash, forged ID, a burner phone, and a switchblade she barely knew how to use.

As she tiptoed through the dark halls of the mansion, she paused by her younger sister's room. Her heart clenched, but she didn't go in. The less anyone knew, the safer they'd be. Even from her.

She slipped through the side entrance, bypassing the guard post using the route she'd practiced in her head a hundred times. Her pulse raced. Every snap of a twig sounded like a bullet waiting to end her escape.

But finally, she reached the road. A car she paid off weeks ago was parked just beyond the trees.

Her hands trembled as she got in, slammed the door, and turned the key.

The engine growled to life, and so did her fear.

The drive to Don Allerick's territory took six hours. Every turn felt like a trap. Every shadow, a threat.

By the time she arrived at the edges of his estate, dawn was bleeding into the sky. The city faded behind her, replaced by thick woods, barbed fences, and steel gates lined with surveillance cameras.

She got out of the car, breathing heavily. She didn't even know if he'd see her, or kill her on sight. But the fear of staying trapped in her father's gilded cage was worse.