Bella nodded slightly, uncertain what that would even mean in the days to come.
The door slammed shut behind them as Vladimir ushered her out, and as she walked beside him, the weight of her new life settled heavily upon her. In this world, there were no happy endings. There was only survival.Bella walked in silence beside Vladimir, every step an unspoken reminder of her captivity. The grand halls of the Castillo mansion were lined with oil paintings and marble statues—each detail screaming of wealth and power. But there was no warmth here, no sense of home. This was a kingdom built on blood, and Vladimir was its ruthless king.
He didn't speak as they made their way down a set of stairs, the air turning cooler as they descended into what felt like the depths of the mansion. The walls shifted from polished elegance to raw concrete, dimly lit by flickering lights. The scent of gunpowder and metal filled the space,making Bella's stomach twist.
She wasn't prepared for what she saw next.
A massive underground armory stretched before her, stocked with weapons she had only seen in movies. Racks of rifles, shelves of ammunition, crates of explosives—all meticulously organized. Men moved through the space, some cleaning their guns, others speaking in hushed tones. These weren't ordinary criminals. They were soldiers—killers.
Vladimir stopped near a table, finally breaking the silence. "You're not here to play house, Bella. If you're going to be a part of my world, you'll learn how to survive in it."
She turned to him, disbelief tightening her chest. "Survive?" she echoed. "You mean you want me to become like them?"
He didn't flinch at the accusation. "I want you to understand what happens to those who are weak."
A man approached them, tall and built like a tank. He carried a sleek black pistol and set it on the table in front of Bella.
Vladimir gestured to it. "Pick it up."
Bella hesitated, staring at the gun as if it might bite her. "I—"
"Pick it up," he repeated, his tone sharper.
She swallowed hard and reached for it. The metal was cold against her skin, heavier than she expected. It wasn't just an object. It was a symbol of everything Vladimir was—a force that took what it wanted without question.
"Good," he said, his crimson eyes studying her reaction. "Now pull the trigger."
Bella's breath caught. She looked around the room, noticing for the first time the shooting range behind them. A target stood at the far end, faceless and blank.
Her fingers trembled as she aimed, her heart pounding against her ribs.
"I don't—"
A rough hand closed over hers, steadying her grip. Vladimir's touch was impersonal, firm—nothing gentle about it. "No hesitation," he murmured against her ear. "Hesitation gets you killed."
She sucked in a sharp breath.
Bang!
The shot echoed through the armory, the recoil jarring her arm. The bullet hit the outer ring of the target, far from center.
Vladimir didn't react. "Again."
Bella's fingers clenched around the gun, anger bubbling beneath her fear. She wasn't sure if she was mad at him or at herself—for being here, for being powerless, for playing into his twisted game.
She fired again.
And again.
Each shot chipped away at something inside her.
When she finally lowered the gun, her arms ached, her breath shaky.
Vladimir studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, he turned away as if she were nothing more than another task completed. "You'll train every day," he said. "Until you're useful."
The finality of his words sent a chill through her.
She wasn't here to be his bride.
She wasn't even here to be a prisoner.
She was here to become something else entirely.
A piece of his empire.
A weapon.That night, as Bella prepared to go to bed, a knock at the door echoed through the silent room. She hesitated for a moment before calling out, "Come in."
Two women entered, their faces unreadable, blank as stone. Bella's heart skipped a beat as they stepped inside, their eyes cold and distant.
"The boss sent us to prepare you," one of them said, her voice lacking any warmth.
Before Bella could ask for clarification, the women moved without hesitation. Their actions were methodical, cold. With an eerie silence, they began to undress her, and though she felt a deep sense of vulnerability, she didn't protest. What choice did she have? The realization hit her that she was at the mercy of forces beyond her control, and any resistance seemed futile.
Once they were finished, Bella caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her breath caught in her throat. The attire they had chosen for her was nothing short of revealing—delicate, sheer fabric that left little to the imagination. She could barely recognize herself. Was this how they saw her? A mere object to be used?
The women didn't speak another word. They merely guided her out of the room and led her down the dark, labyrinthine hallways to Vladimir's chambers. Her pulse raced with each step, each echo of their footsteps on the cold floor.
At the door to Vladimir's room, the women halted, leaving Bella standing alone before the darkened threshold. She knocked softly, her hand trembling as she awaited his response.
"Enter," came the deep voice from inside, a voice that sent chills down her spine.
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room. The shadows swallowed everything, leaving only the faint outline of Vladimir's figure against the far wall. The air felt thick with tension, and Bella could feel her heart hammering in her chest.
She stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a quiet thud. The darkness seemed to press in around her, amplifying the feeling of isolation. She wanted to say something, to demand an explanation, but the words stuck in her throat.
Vladimir's silhouette shifted in the dark. His presence was overwhelming, as it always was. She could feel his gaze on her, cold and appraising, but he said nothing. The silence stretched, unbearable.
Then, just as Bella thought her nerves might break, his voice cut through the stillness.
"Strip."
Her breath caught in her throat. His command wasn't a suggestion—it was an order. The weight of it settled heavily over her, making her stomach twist in fear and confusion. Was this truly why she had been brought here? To face him like this?
The room seemed to grow colder, and Bella's hands shook at her sides. She hesitated, her mind racing. She was trapped in his world—an unwilling pawn in a game she didn't understand. Her body felt like it was no longer her own, and with a single word, Vladimir had stripped away any remaining sense of control she might have had.