The next day, the mansion felt different. The guards looked tense. People whispered in corners. Hazel could feel something was wrong.
At lunch, Marco spoke to Zyran in a low voice.
"Someone from the Russo family is asking questions about her," he said.
Zyran's face turned cold. "Handle it."
Hazel looked at them. "What's going on?"
Zyran stood up. "Nothing you need to worry about."
She frowned. "You promised not to lie."
He paused, then said, "There's another mafia family—The Russos. They want power. And now, they're asking about you."
"Why?" Hazel asked.
"Because you're mine," he said darkly. "And they know that hurting you… would hurt me."
Hazel felt cold all over. "So I'm a target now?"
Zyran's jaw tightened. "You were the moment you became my fiancée."
Later that day, as Hazel walked down the hall, she heard voices behind a door.
"She's just a pretty face," one of the guards said. "Won't last long in this world."
Hazel pushed the door open.
"Say that to my face," she said boldly.
The guard stood up, surprised. "Miss—"
"No," she snapped. "You don't get to judge me. I may not be like you. But I'm not weak. I survived my father. I'll survive this too."
Zyran came around the corner just in time to hear it. He watched her with something close to pride.
That night, he came to her room.
"You stood up for yourself," he said.
"I'm not just some scared girl," she replied.
He nodded. "I know that now."
He looked at her for a long moment, then said, "Stay close to me, Hazel. Things are changing. Fast. And if war comes…"
He didn't finish the sentence. But she understood.
If war came—
She wouldn't just be the bride of a mafia boss.
She'd be in the fight with him.