Page 3 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

I press a quick kiss to his forehead, something I used to do when we were kids, back when a simple gesture could make everything feel okay. “I’ll handle it. I promise.”

Without waiting for a response, I turn and head for the door. My hands are steady, but my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. I don’t know what’s waiting for me at the Castellano mansion, but I know one thing—there’s no turning back now.

The streets outside are a blur of sound and movement—honking horns, distant chatter, the occasional bark of a stray dog. But I barely notice any of it. My mind is spinning, trying to piece together a plan, but all I can focus on is the weight of the bag slung over my shoulder and the looming threat of the Castellanos.

Dominic Castellano. Even saying his name in my head makes my pulse race. He’s not just the head of the family—he’s the man who rebuilt their empire from ruins, turning them into the most feared syndicate in the city. Ruthless, sharp, and impossibly dangerous, he’s not someone you reason with. Yet here I am, heading straight for him with nothing but a shaky promise to myself that I can fix this.

The Castellano mansion comes into view, standing tall and imposing behind wrought-iron gates. It looks more like a fortress than a home, its high walls casting long shadows across the perfectly manicured lawn. I stop in front of the gates, taking a deep breath before pressing the intercom button.

“State your business,” a gruff voice demands through the speaker.

“I need to see Dominic Castellano,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. “It’s about…the ring.”

There’s a long pause, the silence laced with anticipation. I half-expect them to laugh and tell me to get lost, but instead, the gates creak open with an ominous groan. I step through, my heart pounding in my chest as I walk up the long stone path toward the front door.

The mood feels different here, as though the mansion itself exudes a quiet menace. Every instinct screams at me to turn around, to run while I still can. But I keep walking, knowing there’s no other option. Demitri’s life—and possibly mine—depends on this.

The front door opens before I can knock, and a tall man in a tailored suit stands in the doorway. His face is impossible toread, his eyes cold as they sweep over me, taking in every detail. “Follow me,” he says curtly.

I nod, stepping inside. The interior is even more intimidating than the exterior—dark oak paneling lines the walls, and marble floors gleam under the soft light of a crystal chandelier. Everything smells faintly of polished wood and expensive leather, but beneath it all is the scent of danger itself.

The man leads me through a series of halls until we reach a set of double doors. He knocks once, then opens them, stepping aside to let me in. I swallow hard, my nerves fraying, but I force myself to step forward.

Inside, Dominic Castellano waits.

He’s standing by the window, his back to me, the late afternoon sunlight casting a golden glow over his figure. His posture is relaxed, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored slacks, but there’s an aura of quiet power around him that makes the room feel smaller, stifling.

“Miss…” He turns slowly, his sharp features coming into view. Towering over me, he’s tall and undeniably handsome, with sun-kissed tan skin, deep brown eyes that seem to draw you in, and thick, dark hair neatly combed back. His eyes meet mine—dark and piercing. He’s even more imposing up close, his presence filling the space effortlessly. “…Isabella, I presume?”

I nod, struggling to keep my breathing even. “Yes. I’m here to return something that belongs to you.”

He gestures toward the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”

I hesitate for a second, then do as he says, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. Dominic walks aroundhis desk, unbuttoning his coat as he sits down, his movements smooth and deliberate. His gaze never leaves mine, sharp and assessing, like he’s already estimating every possible outcome of this meeting.

He nods at the man who brought me inside, “I got it from here, Jayden.”

The door clicks shut behind me as the man departs. A fleeting part of me wishes he had stayed, a potential witness if things went south. But who am I fooling? Dominic’s men are as loyal to him as hounds to their masters.

“Let’s not waste time,” he says, his voice low and calm, yet carrying an edge of authority. “You have something that belongs to me. Show me.”

I reach into my bag, pulling out the velvet box with trembling fingers. I set it on the desk, pushing it toward him. “My brother didn’t know what he was taking. He thought it was just some jewelry. I came here to return it and—” I pause, trying to steady my voice. “—to ask for mercy.”

Dominic’s eyes flick down to the box, his fingers brushing over the velvet before opening it. He takes a long, silent look at the ring, then closes the box and leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. His expression remains unreadable, but it still sets my nerves on edge.

“Mercy,” he repeats, as though tasting the word. “Do you know how many people come to me asking for mercy, Isabella?”

I don’t answer, unsure if it’s a rhetorical question.

He leans forward slightly, his gaze intensifying. “Your brother’s actions put you in this position. And now you’re here,offering yourself as collateral. Tell me, why should I grant you something I don’t often give?”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Because he’s just a kid. He didn’t know what he was doing. I’m not asking you to forget what he did—I know that’s impossible. But I’m asking you not to hurt him. Take whatever you want from me, just… leave him out of this.”

A long silence stretches between us, his stare pressing down on me. Then, to my surprise, Dominic’s lips curve into a slow, almost imperceptible smile—one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Very well,” he says, his voice softer but no less dangerous. “I won’t harm your brother. But mercy always comes with a price. Are you willing to pay it?”

What could this man possibly want from me?

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