Title: Owned by the Devil's Blood
Genre: Mafia Romance · Drama · Dark Romance
Tone: Dangerous, seductive, emotional
🔥 Male Lead
Name: Lucian Moretti
Mafia heir
Tall, tattooed, cold eyes
Violent reputation
Protects what's his — obsessively
Hot but terrifying 😈
🌹 Female Lead
Name: Elara Voss
Quiet, observant, underestimated
Trapped in someone else's mess
Thinks she's invisible
Doesn't know she's about to belong to the most dangerous man alive
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📘 CHAPTER 1
The Night I Became His
The first gunshot shattered the music.
Elara Voss froze, her fingers tightening around the tray of champagne glasses as screams tore through the ballroom. Crystal shattered. People ran. Someone fell beside her, blood blooming across a white dress like a red rose.
"Down!" someone yelled.
Elara dropped behind a marble table, heart slamming so hard it hurt. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was supposed to be a rich man's charity gala—fake smiles, expensive perfume, and silent suffering.
Not guns.
Not death.
More shots echoed, sharp and controlled. Not random. Professional.
She peeked out, just for a second.
That was when she saw him.
He stood in the middle of the chaos like he owned it. Black suit. Open collar. Tattoos creeping up his neck. His gun rested loosely in his hand, smoke curling from the barrel. His expression didn't change—no panic, no rush.
Just cold focus.
Lucian Moretti.
Everyone in the city knew that name. They whispered it like a curse. Mafia royalty. Devil's blood. The man you never looked at twice—because you didn't get a second chance.
And somehow… his eyes locked on hers.
The room disappeared.
His gaze sharpened, dark and heavy, as if he'd just found something interesting in a room full of dying people.
She swallowed and looked away.
Big mistake.
A rough hand grabbed her arm and yanked her up. "You don't move without permission," a voice growled.
She gasped as she was dragged forward, heels slipping on blood-slick marble.
"Sir," the man said, pushing her toward Lucian. "She was watching."
Lucian's eyes dropped to her face slowly. Too slowly. Like he was savoring it.
"Name," he said.
Elara's lips trembled. "E–Elara."
Silence.
Lucian stepped closer. She could smell him now—smoke, leather, danger. He lifted her chin with one finger, forcing her to look up.
Those eyes weren't just dark. They were hungry.
"You're not afraid," he murmured.
She was. Terrified. But something worse settled in her chest recognition. Like her life had just tilted off its axis.
"I am," she whispered.
A slow smile touched his lips. Deadly. Beautiful.
"Good," he said. "That means you'll listen."
He turned to his men. "Clear the room."
Then back to her.
"You saw something you weren't meant to," Lucian said softly. "And now… you belong to me."
Her breath hitched. "I—I don't—"
His hand slid to her waist, possessive, final.
"You'll come with me," he said. "Or you won't leave at all."
And in that moment, Elara realized....
The gunshots weren't the worst thing that happened tonight.
Meeting Lucian Moretti was.
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