Bound To The Devil

The tension between Damien and Luca escalated, but a new force entered the game. A figure from Damien’s past—Mikhail Sokolov—emerged from the shadows, his presence dripping with malice. Mikhail was a man of legend in the underworld, a ruthless crime lord with a reputation so dark even Damien respected his cruelty.

He was tall, with slick black hair and eyes like frozen steel. A deep scar ran down his cheek, a souvenir from a past betrayal. Unlike Damien, Mikhail found joy in others' suffering, and he had his eyes set on Luca—not for affection, but for destruction.

Damien felt the threat immediately. Mikhail wasn’t a man who played fair, and his sudden interest in Luca meant trouble... Mikhail’s voice was smooth, deceptively charming, but there was something dangerous lurking beneath his words.

Sometime earlier

Luca had been planning his escape for weeks, meticulously studying the guards' shifts and the layout of the estate. Every second Damien was away was an opportunity, every blind spot a chance. That night, under the cover of darkness, he finally made his move. His heart pounded against his ribs as he slipped through the corridors, past the heavy mahogany doors, and into the cold night air. The main gates were too risky, but he had discovered a servant’s exit near the back gardens.

He had barely taken three steps before a firm hand clamped around his arm. Luca let out a startled gasp as one of Damien’s most trusted guards yanked him back. His struggles were futile against the man’s iron grip. "You really thought you could get away?" the guard sneered before dragging him forcefully back inside.

Luca was thrown onto the leather couch in Damien’s office, his breath ragged from the failed escape. The room smelled of cigar smoke and expensive cologne, the dim lighting casting deep shadows across the walls. And then he saw him. A man sat across from Damien, an unfamiliar presence exuding quiet menace. Mikhail Volkov.

Mikhail’s icy blue eyes flickered toward Luca, scanning him in a way that made his stomach twist. Damien, seated behind his massive desk, stiffened instantly. His grip on the glass of whiskey tightened, knuckles turning white. The room dropped several degrees in temperature.

"Who is this?" Mikhail asked, voice smooth but laced with something dangerous.

Damien didn’t answer. Instead, he rose slowly from his chair, his movements measured and deliberate. In a flash, the whiskey glass shattered against the wall, its fragments scattering like splintered ice. He stormed over, grabbing Luca by the chin , tilting his face up, forcing their eyes to meet. The barely contained fury in Damien’s gaze made Luca’s breath hitch.

"Mine," Damien growled. "Don’t look at him."

Mikhail chuckled darkly, leaning back, amusement flickering in his sharp gaze. "Relax, Volkov. I was merely admiring your taste."

****
Luca's POV

Luca’s fingers trembled slightly as he sat in the leather chair, the heavy atmosphere of Damien’s office suffocating him. He had been caught—his escape attempt thwarted before he could even reach the perimeter. Damien’s men had dragged him back, but instead of being taken to his room, he was shoved into the presence of a stranger.

Mikhail Sokolov.

The name alone was enough to send shivers down Luca’s spine. He had heard of him—a man whose cruelty was whispered in the underground, a smuggler, a trafficker, a ghost that haunted crime syndicates worldwide. And now, here he was, standing just feet away from him.

Mikhail leaned back against Damien’s desk, arms crossed as a slow, amused smirk played on his lips. His icy blue eyes swept over Luca, taking in every detail with unsettling interest.