Chapter 3 — Chains of Duty

Morgan

The room seemed to close in around Morgan, its elegance suffocating rather than soothing. Silk drapes hung heavy and motionless, the carved wooden bedposts loomed like sentinels, and the faintly glowing chandelier cast sharp, prismatic shadows on the walls. None of it distracted her from the storm churning inside her chest. She perched on the edge of the velvet armchair, her fingers absently tracing the ridges of the brass compass pendant hanging from her neck. Daisy’s familiar, whimsical gift was her only anchor in a world that had tilted violently off course.

Her thoughts spun wildly, searching for a way out, for logic, for anything that could ground her in this new, terrifying reality. The compass, its cool surface pressing into her skin, felt like a tether to a past life that was rapidly slipping away. Her mind flashed to memories of Daisy—bright laughter over coffee, the warmth of her hand on Morgan’s shoulder as she handed her the pendant. Daisy had called it a charm for “finding her way.” Now, it was ironic, cruel almost, how utterly lost she felt.

The door creaked open, and she stiffened, her spine snapping straight as though a jolt of electricity had surged through her. Julian stepped inside, closing the door with a soft finality. His calculated movements radiated a calm intensity that demanded attention, an intimidating quiet that seemed to fill all the spaces in the room. He surveyed the scene with a single sweep of his storm-gray eyes before they landed on her, steady and unrelenting.

Morgan’s jaw tightened as she crossed her arms, raising her chin in defiance. “What now? Are you here to tell me exactly why you’ve decided to ruin my life? Or should I just guess?”

A faint flicker—something too brief to name—passed across his face. Amusement, perhaps, or irritation. “Ruin is a strong word,” Julian replied, his voice calm, deliberate. “This is protection.”

“Protection?” Her laugh was sharp, brittle. “I didn’t ask for your protection, and I sure as hell don’t need it.”

Julian’s expression didn’t waver, but his tone sharpened, a quiet edge threading through it. “Need is irrelevant. In my world, survival is all that matters. Your survival.”

He stepped closer, and the subtle shift in the air was enough to send a ripple of tension through her body. Morgan stood, her legs trembling slightly beneath her but her chin still high. “Survival?” she scoffed, her hazel eyes locking onto his. “Oh, I think I have a pretty solid grasp of what survival looks like. And right now, it seems to involve staring danger straight in the face.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze unwavering. “You have no idea what you’ve stumbled into, Morgan.”

“Then enlighten me,” she shot back, taking a step toward him. Her skin prickled with adrenaline, but she refused to back down. “Because I’m struggling to understand how eavesdropping in a coffee shop justifies kidnapping.”

Julian tilted his head slightly, a gesture that carried a weight she couldn’t explain. His eyes narrowed, their steel-gray depths darkening. “That coffee shop conversation was not meant for anyone outside my world. The things you heard, the questions you might ask—they’ve made you a liability. Collateral damage is not a concept my rivals shy away from.”

The words hit her like a slap. Morgan’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to stand firm. “So, what? You’re one of these people I should be scared of, but I’m supposed to believe you’re protecting me? That’s rich.”

Julian exhaled slowly, the sound measured, though his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “Think what you want,” he said, his voice clipped. “But you’re alive. That’s more than can be said for others who’ve crossed paths with this world unprepared.”

His world. The phrase echoed in her mind, cold and heavy. She’d suspected as much—the way he carried himself, the deference his men showed him, the raw authority in his voice. But hearing him say it, even obliquely, was something else entirely. The weight of her situation pressed harder against her chest, and she took an involuntary step back.

“You’re insane,” she said, quieter now but no less cutting. Her hand gripped the compass pendant tightly, its cool surface grounding her. “You can’t just take someone’s life and expect them to play along like a good little puppet.”

A flicker of frustration crossed Julian’s face, fleeting but unmistakable. He stepped closer, his broad frame casting long shadows in the lamplight. “I don’t need your cooperation, Morgan. What I need is your silence.”

“Then let me go,” she snapped, her voice rising. “I’ll stay silent. I’ll act like none of this ever happened. Just—”

“No.” The word dropped between them like a stone, sharp and absolute. His eyes locked onto hers, unflinching as he stepped even closer, close enough that she could feel the faint heat radiating from him. “This isn’t about trust. It’s about control. As long as you’re out there, you’re a risk I can’t afford.”

Control. The word reverberated through her, bitter and repellent. “That’s all this is to you,” she said, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “Control.”

“Yes.” The admission was blunt, unyielding, and it infuriated her.

The room fell silent, the faint hum of the chandelier’s bulbs the only sound. Morgan’s fists clenched at her sides, her anger twisting into something sharper, more desperate. “You don’t own me,” she said, her voice low but firm. “No matter what you think or how much power you have—I am not yours to control.”

Julian stared at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, to her surprise, his lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “You’re stubborn,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I expected fear. Compliance. But you...” His gaze swept over her, contemplative. “You’re something else.”

She didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or a warning, but she didn’t have time to decide. Julian straightened, his presence filling the room anew. “Since you’re so determined to assert your independence,” he said, his tone edged with irony, “I’ll give you a choice.”

Morgan blinked, caught off guard. “A choice?”

“Yes.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, metallic object—a ring. It gleamed in the light, its gold surface intricately engraved with a crest that looked both ancient and powerful—two crossed swords beneath a crown, surrounded by vines. The weight of its history was palpable. He held it out to her, his expression unreadable. “Marry me.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. For a long moment, she could only stare at him, her mind scrambling to process what he’d just said. “Excuse me?” she finally managed, her voice dripping with disbelief.

“You heard me,” Julian said, his tone maddeningly calm. “It’s the only way to ensure your safety. If you’re under my protection as my wife, no one will dare harm you. Not my rivals, not Matteo, not anyone.”

Morgan’s jaw dropped, her fury boiling over into something visceral. “You think I’m going to marry you? Are you out of your mind?”

“It’s not about what you want,” Julian replied, his tone hardening. “It’s about what’s necessary.”

Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “This is insane. You’re insane.”

“You’ve said that already,” Julian remarked, his voice infuriatingly even. “But it doesn’t change the reality of your situation. Married to me, you’re untouchable. As a civilian...you’re expendable.”

The bluntness of his words made her stomach churn. She knew he wasn’t lying—she could see it in his eyes, in the cold, calculated way he measured every word. Guilt flickered briefly in his gaze, but it was gone before she could fully parse it. He was resolute. “And if I refuse?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

“You won’t,” he said simply, his confidence cutting through her like a blade. “You’re too smart for that.”

Her hands balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms so hard it hurt. She wanted to scream, to throw something, to tear the smug certainty off his face, but she didn’t. She forced herself to breathe, to think. She needed time. Time to figure out her next move.

Julian watched her closely, his expression unreadable but his intensity palpable. “I’ll give you the night to decide,” he said, slipping the ring back into his pocket. “But know this—if you refuse, you’re on your own. And in this world, that’s as good as a death sentence.”

He turned and walked to the door, his movements as deliberate as ever. Just before stepping out, he glanced back at her. “Think carefully, Morgan. Your life depends on it.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and Morgan sank back into the armchair, her body trembling with the force of her emotions. Her hand gripped Daisy’s compass pendant so tightly the edges bit into her skin. Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding, none of them bringing any clarity.

Marry him? The very idea was absurd. Insulting.

But as she sat there, staring at the door he’d just left through, the weight of his words pressed down on her like a rising tide. Survival wasn’t guaranteed here. And Julian De Mancuso wasn’t a man who made idle threats.

Her gaze drifted to where he’d stood, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. If he thought she’d bow to his terms without a fight, he had no idea who he was dealing with.