Married At Gunpoint: The Mafia Boss Chose Me

Riley Collins's POV:

Breathing became a struggle the moment the judge said the words, "Miss Riley Collins, do you take Jackson Black to be your lawful husband?"

Every instinct inside me screamed no. But choice had never been part of this arrangement. When Jackson delivered that outrageous proposal, I accepted because refusing wasn't an option. My sister's life dangled in front of me like bait. She needed surgery after the crash that shattered her spine, and he was the only one willing to cover the cost.

So I slipped into the white dress he sent. I forced my feet into the stiff shoes he picked. I pinned my hair exactly the way he ordered. I played the part of the compliant bride, because for now, obedience was the only weapon I had. Later, somehow, I would find a way out. I didn't care what it cost.

I wanted nothing more than to hold my sister before signing my life away, to reassure her that everything would be fine. But Jackson refused to let me see her. The ache in my chest twisted deeper, tightening until it felt unbearable.

The ceremony took place on a manicured lawn, lined with white chairs and carefully placed flowers. It should have been beautiful. Instead, it felt like I was walking into my own burial. The heels bit into the soft ground, making my legs tremble. My gloved hands were clammy, cold, and stiff.

He stood beside me like a shadow—dark, unreadable, and cruel. Every word he spoke gnawed at me, reminding me exactly how powerless I was.

"Answer, damn it," he hissed under his breath, tightening his grip until pain shot through my fingers.

A soft cry escaped me. "Ow..."

The judge's voice drifted toward me again. "I'll repeat the question, Mr. Black..."

Air refused to enter my lungs. I had never struggled so much to force out a single word.

Memories from the night before clawed their way back. He had pushed me into surrender, using me like something he had bought instead of a woman who had never been touched. Every moment of it still lived in my mind, sharp and raw.

Jackson tightened his grip on my hand, pressing into the sensitive spots until pain shot up my arm. His expression grew even darker. I turned my head toward him, swallowing the tears and the last scraps of my pride. For a second, my mind blurred, and I noticed the tattoo I'd seen on his neck the night he pinned me to the sofa and forced himself into me was suddenly gone. Maybe I was losing my grip on reality.

...

The judge repeated the vow again, his voice fading beneath the rush of blood in my ears. Jackson's scent surrounded me, somehow different from yesterday—heavier, suffocating.

Then...

Pow!

The crack of a gunshot ripped through the air, jolting every nerve in my body. Jackson reacted instantly, yanking me against him and shoving me in front of his chest like I