Cuffed By The Devil (Mafia Romance) Prt 1

 

Bound By Temptation Book 1

Chained to Desire Book 2

Handcuff to Hell Book 3

 

Chapter 1
Hanne Alfhild POV

I switched on my flashlight, its beam revealing only the area where the last rays of sunlight had reached in the abandoned warehouse. Flies circled the lifeless body, which appeared to have lain there for roughly four hours, evidence of time marked by the blood slowly receding along the grimy concrete.

The male victim had died in shock, his blue eyes frozen in a silent expression of terror, a look of disbelief he likely never expected in his final moments. No one anticipated death.

"Victim sustained a headshot, delivered from the side," I remarked, glancing toward my Corporal. "The bullet entered and exited through the head; fragments lodged in the wall." My voice was barely a whisper as the beam of my flashlight briefly illuminated the wound before yielding to the ambient light.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Ma'am, it’s all there," I replied, having taken in every detail.

"What does this scene suggest?" I inquired, casually chewing my gum before switching off the flashlight and tucking it securely back into my vest.

I took a closer look at the body.

"Hell," She murmured.

I chuckled softly. "Hell is hardly an adequate description." This case was for the detective, my role as a rookie cop left me often longing to assume the mantle of investigator, to dig deep into every facet of a case.

This was, without a doubt, a case.

"I suspect gang violence, a botched operation, perhaps. Look at the dust; it’s likely cocaine residue," I observed.

"Cocaine?" Angela interjected.

"It's definitely not flour?" I laughed, but the sound died in my throat when I met her too-serious expression. Clearing my throat, I muttered an apology. I was still getting to know my partner, Angela. Still getting to know the city. I was practically fresh out of the academy, eager to prove myself, even if I was just a rookie patrol officer. I wanted to make a name for myself, climb the ranks.

"It's not the gang," she muttered, removing her patrol cap. Her sugar-brown hair was pulled back so tightly it gave her face a fuller look. "We should go."

I scoffed. "Ma'am, we can't leave the body until higher authorities arrive."

A civilian had found the body during a morning walk. I’d taken his statement and sent him on his way. From the moment we stepped onto the scene, Angela had wanted no part of this.

I turned my attention back to the victim, a white male, around six feet tall, black hair matted with blood. His shirt was soaked through, and a sleeve tattoo snaked up his arm, disappearing beneath the bloodied fabric. I couldn’t make out any recognizable pattern. I wasn’t a detective, after all.

For the past few days, I’d been trying to memorize the faces of the city’s troublemakers, the ones who made it into the system and somehow slipped back out. They weren’t hardened criminals. Mostly guys with a gun and a bad attitude, the kind who thought terrorizing the local grocery store made them dangerous.

Nothing a rookie and a corporal couldn’t handle.

"They're coming for their body," Angela said. Her worry was evident in the tight lines of her face.

She was older, at least, I thought so. Maybe I was imagining things. But one thing was clear: she had no interest in impressing higher-ups. No desire to chase promotions or wear her badge like a badge of honor.

She was laid-back. Half the force in this city was laid-back.

"Who’s ‘they’?"

The only people who should be showing up here were detectives and forensics—collecting biological, trace, and ballistic evidence to build a case. I wished I could be part of that. Instead, I was stuck on the hot streets, baking in a patrol car, running on coffee and stale donuts.

"The Isak. A ring."

"Jewelers?" I asked.

"No. There's a lot you don't know. Look, we see and—"

The screech of tires on worn pavement cut her off. She stepped back. I spun around; gun drawn.

I was trigger-happy. I knew it. I wanted a reason to fire. To use my weapon.

"Put the damn gun down."

"Detectives don’t make entrances like this. At least, I hope these ones don’t," I muttered, advancing slowly, gun raised, keeping it steady in my line of sight for a clean shot if needed.

The car was too dark. Too discreet.

"What are you doing? Get back here."

"You get up here. This car doesn’t belong here," I said, my focus locked on the vehicle.

The door eased open. Two men stepped out, tall and broad-shouldered, their stance rigid—bodyguards, maybe. But for who?

"This is a crime scene! Get back in your car and leave!" I barked, as they didn't shove a badge in front my face.

"Angela, now would be a great time to back me up."

The opposite car door opened. Two more men emerged, but one stood apart. He wore a lighter jacket, moving around the vehicle to stand beside the others.

I approached them, my fingers tight on the trigger.

"Get back in the fucking car!"

"That's my cousin lying there. We came for the body."

"Sir, this is—" I stopped short, my gaze landing on a chest—flat, but unmistakably feminine. My face heated as I quickly adjusted my stance, raising my gun a little higher. "Ma'am..."

She smirked, smoothing the collar of her long, tailored coat—the rich fabric draped over her frame, reaching all the way down to her gleaming shoes.

"Get back in the car. Head down to Los Angeles—"

"You're holding the gun wrong, princess."

I stiffened, glancing down at my weapon. My grip was firm. My stance steady. I was sure I was holding it correctly, just high enough to stay in my peripheral vision, my hands locked around the power it emitted.

She hummed, amused. "A rookie. I suggest you head back to your station and let me and my soldiers handle this." Her voice was smooth; elegance wrapped in quiet authority.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Ma'am."

"Very well."

In a flash, the gun was out of my hands. One second, I had control; the next, I was gripping nothing but air.

I stared, stunned, as she tossed my weapon aside. "Go fetch."

"That's a criminal offense, taking an officer’s gun!" I snapped, stepping forward. I couldn't take her on, not with the three hulking men at her back. But I could try. My training kicked in, months of battalion drills. From the way she carried herself, though, she had a lifetime of it.

"Who the hell are you?"

She tilted her head, almost amused. "Maybe you should have asked that the moment I stepped out of the car. But you're new here, fresh in my city." She gave a slow, measured smile. "Welcome. I won’t say we’ll get along."

With that, she turned and sauntered toward the body.

I cursed under my breath and rushed for my gun. But before I could grab it, Angela stepped in front of me.

"Move," I demanded.

"No." She met my gaze. "Listen. That’s Amund Isak."

I glared at the woman as she let four obvious criminals tamper with the crime scene.

"Am I supposed to know who that is? Am I supposed to care?"

"Damn right," Angela shot back. "And as your superior, put the goddamn gun down. I’m trying to save your life."

"No one is above the law," I growled, but I holstered my weapon.

"The Isak are. Now play it cool," she warned. "Follow my lead. In fact, shut up for the rest of the time she’s here."

We approached as Amund crouched beside the body; her expression carved with anger. There was a cold elegance to her, a presence that spoke of power and ruthlessness.

Nothing was above the law. And certainly not a woman with three bodyguards.

I studied them; shaved heads, tattoos inked into their scalps. A symbol. One I couldn’t decipher.

"What happened here? Who did this?" Amund asked.

"Boss, we’re not sure. Could be the neighboring gang."

She stood, calm, composed, her gaze locking onto Angela.

Boss?

I stiffened. We had one boss, and he was back at the station buried in paperwork. This didn’t add up.

facilely, my hand hovered close to my gun. Cops were no strangers to corruption, but the kind I knew about was minor, letting low-level criminals walk, turning a blind eye to petty crime.

This was something else entirely.

"Sergio, call my morgue. Have them pick up the body," Amund ordered.

One of her men nodded and stepped aside, phone pressed to his ear.

I clenched my jaw. Who were these people? And how did they move around like they owned the place?

"Excuse me," I said, stepping forward despite being told to keep my mouth shut. "That body is going to the city morgue for further investigation."

Amund turned to me. "This body is under Isak protection."

"Who are you? Some crime lord? Why don’t you walk yourself into a damn prison cell?"

"It’s too small for me."

"This body is going to the—"

"Control your dog, Corporal Storm."

"Yes, boss," Angela responded, with more respect than she ever gave our actual boss.

"What the hell is going on here?" I demanded.

"Shut your dog up," Amund snapped, already turning toward the car.

Angela faced me, her voice low. "Please, you’re making this worse. Just keep quiet, and you’ll be rewarded."

"And if I don’t?" I challenged.

Amund’s sharp blue eyes flicked to mine. "Then I’ll personally put a muzzle on your fucking mouth."

She tossed a thick stack of cash to Angela. "You saw nothing, as usual."

I snorted. "We saw plenty. And I’m reporting it."

Amund smiled, unbothered. "This city is like a zoo."

"You’re right about that. You’re a disgusting animal."

She chuckled. "No, princess. I’m the master of the animals. You’re new here—I suggest you start learning how things work."

She turned away, but before she could leave, I snatched the cash from Angela and hurled it at her. The bills smacked against her back before falling to the ground.

Immediately, two of her guards drew their guns. I took a cautious step back.

Amund raised a hand.

Angela gasped. "Boss—"

"Don’t you dare apologize for me," Amund cut in, her voice temperate.

Then, she turned and closed the distance between us.

I held my ground, but she didn’t stop. She walked me straight back until I hit the grimy brick wall behind me.

Her teal blue eyes, too striking to belong to a criminal, locked onto mine. She was too close. Too calm. And I could smell it on her.

"You know what I smell?" I murmured.

"The scent of my expensive cologne? Or the scent of all the lives I’ve taken?" she whispered, lowering herself to my level.

"You’re a bad woman."

She grinned. God, she was beautiful. I forced my gaze away.

"And you’re a very bad little dog," she evaluated. "But with the right treats, you’ll learn how to roll over and beg for a belly rub."

"Get out of my face, you filthy, no-good piece of shit."

Her hand was on my throat before I could react.

"I want you to do something for me, princess." Her grip wasn’t choking, but it carried a promise. "Answer me. That’s the first thing I want you to learn."

She could’ve lifted me off the ground if she wanted to. I could feel her strength coiling beneath the surface.

"What?" I bit out.

"Good girl." She smirked. "I want you to learn how Los Angeles really works. Look up my history, it’s all in your database. And when you do, you’ll have three choices: worship me, die, or get the fuck out of my city. Answer me."

I gritted my teeth. "No."

She chuckled. "Still an answer." With a slow release, she let go, and I clutched my throat, swallowing against the ghost of her grip. For a second, it felt like she could’ve ripped my damn neck off.

"Stay out of my way," she murmured before turning back to her car.

Angela stepped up, offering me the cash. "We can split the difference."

"Fuck you and that damn money," I snapped. My hands curled into fists. "No one is going to bully me in this fucking city. And that’s a promise."

I had a mission now.

Take Amund Isak down.

Guyssss! I want hit 250-300 paid subscribers on patreon in July of this year (2026). PLEASEEEE guysss! The lowest tier on my PAID PATREON, is $2.99 and you can find this book, along with many others, in that specific tier.

Next Page