Prologue of Bound by Obsession

The evening air was thick with tension as Viktor DeLuca's black SUV rolled to a stop in front of a modest, run-down home. It was a far cry from the opulence he was used to—a small, unassuming house with chipped paint and an overgrown yard. Yet, it didn’t matter. What lay inside was far more important to him than any luxury he could buy.

Two of his towering bodyguards flanked him as he exited the vehicle, their presence alone sending a message. They didn’t need to speak; their mere existence struck fear into anyone who crossed them. Viktor’s dark eyes flicked toward the house, his face a mask of cold determination. He had come to claim what was his.

With a single knock, the door creaked open, revealing a old-looking man in his mid-fifties. Behind him stood a woman, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. Emma’s parents.

“Mr. Collins,” Viktor said in a voice that left no room for doubt, his deep tone resonating in the air like a distant storm. “I’ve come to discuss about your daughter.”

The man blinked, caught off guard by the commanding presence in front of him. “M-my daughter?” he stammered. “What about Emma? Did she do something?”

Viktor stepped forward, ignoring the way Mrs. Collins instinctively took a step back. “I want to marry her.” saying he sat down at his couch.

The room fell into a stunned silence. Emma’s father stared at Viktor, his mouth hanging open. “You—what?” His voice cracked with disbelief. “No, you must be mistaken. Emma—she’s... she’s not—”

“I don’t make mistakes , Mr.Collins.” Viktor's voice cut through the air like a blade. “I’ve seen her. I want her as my wife.”

Mrs. Collins gasped, clutching her husband's arm. “You can't—no! She's just a girl, and you're—”

“A mafia king,” Viktor finished for her, a dangerous edge to his tone. “I am well aware of who I am. And also well aware how I always get what I want.”

Mr. Collins took a shaky breath, stepping in front of his wife as if that alone could shield them from the inevitable. “We can’t... we won’t give Emma to someone like you. She’s our daughter, not a piece of property. You can’t just...”

Viktor’s expression darkened, the warning clear in his eyes. “I didn’t come here to ask for your approval. I came here to tell you what will happen.”

Tension radiated through the small room, thick and suffocating. One of Viktor’s bodyguards took a menacing step forward, his hand hovering near his gun, though he didn’t need to use it. The sheer threat of force was enough.

“I could take her without asking,” Viktor said coldly, his voice low and dangerous. “But I am offering you the chance to make this easier for yourselves. Emma will be taken care of. She will want for nothing. Refuse, and you will regret it.”

Mr. Collins’ hands trembled as he looked at his wife, then back at Viktor. There was no escape, no way out of this nightmare. The power Viktor wielded was undeniable, and the consequences of defying him were unthinkable.

“We...” Mr. Collins swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. “We can’t just hand her over.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Viktor growled, his patience wearing thin. “I won’t ask again.”

Silence stretched between them as Mr. and Mrs. Collins stood frozen in fear. Viktor’s gaze sharpened, a ruthless smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He had already won.

“I’ll send for her tomorrow,” Viktor said, turning toward the door. “Prepare her for the wedding.”

Without another word, Viktor and his men left the house, leaving behind two broken parents, helpless in the face of the man who now controlled their daughter’s fate.

As the door clicked shut, Mrs. Collins collapsed into her husband’s arms, her sobs filling the empty room. There was nothing they could do. Emma’s life was no longer in their hands.

Viktor had claimed her.