Hell has a door, and tonight, I’m walking her straight through it.

The tires screech against wet gravel as I pull up to the warehouse like a beast returning to its lair. But I’ve never been good at listening, to reason, rules or pretty little things with stormy eyes and trembling lips.

She sits frozen in the passenger seat like she’s holding her breath. Like breathing might encourage fate to screw her harder.

“Out.”

She doesn’t move. Of course, she doesn’t. Princesses aren’t used to being ordered around without a security detail or a butler waiting with a fucking mint.

So, like the gentleman I am, I oblige.

I round the car, jerk the door open and haul her out by her soft wrist. She gasps, stumbles like she’s forgotten how her legs work.

“Where the hell are we?” She has all attitude and zero leverage.

I grin, and she flinches. “Welcome to the jungle, sweetheart. Where men bleed for sport and boys cry when their designer shoes get dirty.”

Her lips part as she looks up at the looming warehouse, hears the low guttural sounds spilling from it. Grunts, jeers, the slap of skin on skin. It smells like blood, beer and broken dreams. It’s fucking beautiful.

She takes one cautious step back and then another.

I grab her before she can take a third.

My hand wrap around her waist. “You run again, I’ll toss into that ring myself. Let the animals chew through that pretty Romanovski pedigree. Think you’re important? In here, you’re just meat.”

She stills. Her pulse races against my hand like a drumbeat of submission.

On second thought, why did I bring her here?
Because this place strips people bare.
Because fear tastes sweeter when it comes with a side of humiliation.
And because I want her to look at me and know, I’m the only safe monster in this pit of hell.

I lead her inside.

The ring is alive like I’ve always known it to be. I started coming here when I was in my last year of school. Strangely, it was Nico who introduced me to this lifestyle, but guess what, I chose to stay by my own choice.

Bodies slam and blood flies. The crowd roars louder than the devil’s choir. It’s like euphoria for me.

And just like that, the whispers start.

“Massimo’s here!”
“Holy shit. He’s here!”
“Who’s that girl?”

My girl stiffens. Her hand reaches for me before he can catch up. She grabs the back of my jacket and clings like I’m her anchor.

Fucking hell, I feel that shit in my cock.

She hides behind me like I’m her saviour, like I didn’t kidnap her from her cushioned tower and drag her into the mud. It’s laughable and yet…

I fucking love it.

I slow my pace, letting her think she’s still invisible, when really, the wolves are already licking their chops.

We make it to the far corner of the ring where Nico and Sienna stand like two overpriced mannequins who think scowling equals intimidation.

Sienna’s face goes pale when she sees me. Nico narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Too long,” Like I owe him punctuality.

I chuckle. “Had to pick up a Romanovski. You know, collect trash your daddy wouldn’t touch.”

Nico’s jaw ticks. Sienna’s mouth falls open, and my little captive behind me tightens her grip on my jacket.

My Romanovski brat tries to inch behind me further as if blending into my shadow will stop the bloodhounds from sniffing her out.

Spiller, it won’t. But damn if she doesn’t look cute trying.

Her innocence is fucking slap to my bloodstream. And I’ve never nee mint sweet until she tasted like it and looked me dead in the eyes like she’d rather die than beg.

And yet… here she is. Hiding behind the villain like a lamb with Stockholm Syndrome and zero street sense.

“Massimo,” Sienna says tightly. “What the hell is she doing here?”

I narrow my eyes.

“That’s none of your business.”

“I said sorry for what happened-“

“Like is aid, I’ll burn you down.”

“You’re insane.” She breathes.

‘No,” I correct. “I’m focused, Sienna. And I, unlike you, don’t let feelings get in the way of ownership.”

My captive stiffens at that and Sienna, like the trouble maker and hypocrite she is, is angry and pissed. Like I give a fuck.

But the story I wanna hear is behind me. The girl I wanna eat alive is now trembling. Oh, now the anger rises. Good girl, bambina. Fight me. Challenge me. Rage makes the fall better.

Inside my head, it’s mayhem.

I want to drag her to a corner and watch her sob as I bite down her pride. I want her on her knees, not because I forced her there, but because she can’t breathe without me anymore.

She’ll hate me. Because I’m the man who’ll ruin her and then kiss the ashes like they were holy.

But she’ll crave me harder. Like a sinner begging their executioner for a taste before the blade drops.

I want to see he crack. Split wide open. Not with violence… not yet. But with that whisper of madness that creeps in when she realises she’s fucked, not just in body but in soul.

I want her bones to go weak when I speak. Because air tastes better when it’s passed through my name. Because the space between her space remembers me before her head does.

And that duality? It’s my fucking divinity.

It’s holy in the sickest way.
It’s church and graveyard.
It’s an orgasm laced with barbed wire.

Because when I’ll make her moan, which she will at the end of this night, it’ll sound like a fucking confession.

There’s a kind of heaven in watching purity rot.

“M-Massimo…” My little muse is terrified and I grip her wrist, bringing her in front of me as I turn her to face me. I cup her face and its fucking so small and soft in my hands. I’m having all sorts of dirty thoughts I shouldn’t have, but god help me, if she doesn’t look all enticing and tempting even with fear in her eyes.

“Be a good girl for me, bambina. Cheer for your boyfriend and maybe I’ll take you home after this, alright?” I try to be soft yet she seems to tremble more as I speak. Realising my words will only have her faint, I let go of her and turn to Nico. “Keep an eye on her.”

I shrug my jacket off and unbutton my shirt before turning to Sienna. “Don’t do anything regrettable.” She gets the memo.

Fabric slides over my skin and a collective murmur ripples through the crowd as I step toward the ring. The energy is palpable like a living entity that feeds off the promise of violence. They chant my name and my grin widen.

Let’s start the fucking match.