
Bound to the Beast Mafia Boss
I make my living binding monsters to their promises. But Silas Malphas is the one monster I never should have touched.
As a Thread-Binder, I can see the glowing, invisible strings of loyalty, debt, and lies connecting everyone in the city's supernatural underworld. It makes me the ultimate contract lawyer-and the perfect infiltrator.
My mission is simple: secure a job in the inner circle of the House of Malphas, the city's most ruthless monster syndicate, and steal the Primal Ledger from their lethal heir.
Silas Malphas commands the shadows themselves. He is arrogant, dominant, and terrifyingly elegant. But the most dangerous thing about him isn't his power-it's that when I look at him, I see *nothing*. He is a void in the magical spectrum. No debts. No loyalties. He is completely unreadable.
I was supposed to betray him. But as I am dragged deeper into his golden cage of high-stakes negotiations and blood-soaked boardroom politics, the lines between my mission and my dark attraction to the Beast begin to blur.
When a rival faction launches a deadly coup and my cover is blown, I am left with a terrifying choice. To survive the night, I must forge a blood-oath contract with the very monster I was sent to destroy.
I'm no longer just his lawyer. I'm bound to the Beast.
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Chapter 6
The metallic click of the crossbow echoed over the distant sirens of the city. The fog rolling across the high balcony felt like ice against my bare back.
The man holding the weapon wore a tactical suit designed to absorb the ambient light. He looked like a shadow detached from the wall. The heavy bolt loaded into his weapon glowed with a sickly, toxic green magic. It was a poison designed to rot a monster from the inside out.
"Step away from the girl, Silas," the assassin repeated. His voice was muffled by a dark fabric mask.
I recognized the rough cadence of his voice immediately. He was the operative who stood behind my shadow client in the dark alley two days ago. He was the muscle. He was not here to kill Silas. He was here to check on my progress. He was using the threat of violence to force an interaction.
Silas did not step away. He did the exact opposite.
The Beast shifted his weight, moving his massive frame to shield my body. His broad shoulders blocked my view of the glowing green weapon. The possessive instinct was immediate and terrifying. Silas did not flinch. He did not raise his hands in surrender. He stood with the relaxed, lethal posture of a predator annoyed by a pesky insect.
"You brought a toy to a slaughter," Silas murmured. His voice was a dark vibration that rattled the glass doors behind us.
"This toy is dipped in Chimera venom," the operative sneered. "It will turn your blood to acid before you hit the ground. Step away from her."
"Shoot me," Silas challenged softly.
The operative hesitated. That single second of doubt was all the Beast needed.
Silas moved faster than my human eyes could process. He did not lunge forward. He dissolved. The shadows cast by the balcony lights violently stretched and warped, swallowing Silas whole.
The operative gasped and fired the crossbow in panic. The green bolt tore through the empty space where Silas had been standing just a fraction of a second prior. The toxic magic hissed as it struck the stone wall behind me, melting the heavy marble like hot wax.
A suffocating wave of dark magic crashed onto the balcony. The temperature plummeted. Frost formed on the iron railing.
Silas materialized directly behind the operative.
The Beast reached out and gripped the back of the man's neck with one large, gloved hand. The operative screamed, dropping the heavy crossbow. The sound of crushing bone echoed in the cold air. Silas lifted the struggling assassin off the ground with terrifying ease.
"Wait," I shouted, my voice cracking with panic.
If Silas killed him, my shadow client would assume I betrayed them. They would activate whatever fail safes they had waiting for me. I needed this man alive. I needed to know my deadline.
Silas paused. He turned his head slowly. His golden eyes burned with an unnatural, blinding light. The rage radiating from him was a physical weight pressing down on my chest. He looked at me, questioning my interruption.
In that brief moment of distraction, the operative acted.
He was wearing a suicide ward. A blinding flash of pure, concussive light magic erupted from the center of his tactical vest. The explosion of energy threw Silas backward. The Beast hit the stone railing with a heavy thud, his grip slipping from the operative's neck.
I covered my eyes, but the force of the blast knocked me to my knees. My ears rang violently.
Strong hands gripped my shoulders before I could recover.
The operative hauled me to my feet. He smelled of burnt ozone and panic. His mask was torn, revealing a jagged scar across his jaw. He shoved me against the glass door. His grip on my bare arms was brutal enough to leave dark bruises.
"You have three days, Sienna," the operative hissed directly into my ear. "Three days to secure the Primal Ledger. If you do not deliver the book by midnight on the third day, we will detonate the blood wards we placed on your heart. You will burn from the inside out."
My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. A blood ward. They had poisoned me during our first meeting, and I never even noticed. The magical contract was a death sentence.
A guttural, monstrous roar shattered the ringing in my ears.
Silas lunged out of the dissipating smoke. He was a terrifying vision of pure violence. The shadows in the air twisted into sharp blades around his fists.
The operative released me instantly. He threw himself backward over the high stone railing.
I screamed, rushing forward. I looked down over the edge. The operative was not falling to his death. A thick cable of green magic shot from his wrist, attaching to a passing hover rail below. He swung away into the dense fog, vanishing into the neon glow of the city streets.
Silas slammed his fists against the stone railing. The marble cracked under the impact. He breathed heavily. The dark magic swirling around him slowly began to recede, drawing back into his skin like liquid smoke.
I stood frozen against the glass door. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Three days. I only had three days to find the most guarded secret in the monster underworld.
Silas turned around.
The violent rage in his golden eyes faded into a cold, terrifying calculation. He looked at the spot where the man had disappeared. Then he looked at me. His gaze dropped to my bare arms. The red marks from the operative's brutal grip were already forming into dark bruises against my pale skin.
He crossed the balcony in two slow, deliberate steps.
"Who was that?" Silas demanded. His voice was dangerously quiet.
I forced myself to stand up straight. I pushed the sheer terror down into the darkest corner of my mind. My brain was my only weapon right now. If I panicked, the Beast would tear me apart to find the truth.
"I do not know," I lied. I kept my voice perfectly steady. I maintained eye contact. "He grabbed me when the light exploded. He was trying to take me hostage to ensure his escape."
Silas reached out. He gently traced the bruising on my arm with his thumb. The contrast between his lethal violence seconds ago and this delicate touch was mind bending. The heat of his skin sent a dangerous, confusing thrill straight to my chest.
"He called you by your first name," Silas murmured. "He said, 'Step away from the girl'. He did not shoot to kill. He shot to distract. And then he whispered something in your ear."
Silas leaned down. His face was inches from mine. The scent of winter air and fresh violence was intoxicating.
"What did he whisper to you, Sienna?"
I swallowed hard. The void of his existence stared back at me. I could not read his threads. I could not see his motives. I was flying blind in a hurricane.
"He said he was a hunter," I spun the lie quickly, anchoring it to a plausible reality. "He said he recognized me from the docks. He promised the human factions were coming for the Malphas Syndicate."
Silas stared at me for five agonizing seconds. He was searching for the micro expressions of deceit. He was waiting for my pulse to jump or my eyes to dart away. I held my ground. I visualized a wall of solid steel in my mind.
"A human hunter using Chimera Cartel venom and high level light magic," Silas noted dryly. The dark amusement returned to his voice, but it was edged with lethal warning. "You have a very active imagination."
He did not believe me.
Silas grabbed my hand. His grip was firm but not painful. He dragged me off the balcony and back into the sprawling, crowded gala. The music was still playing. The monsters were still drinking their copper laced champagne. No one had heard the brief, violent clash on the balcony over the thick glass and heavy wards.
"We are leaving," Silas announced to Leo, who was lounging near the bar.
Leo took one look at Silas's face and nodded sharply, abandoning his drink.
The ride back to the estate was suffocating. I sat in the back of the SUV next to Silas. The heavy rain started again, drumming a relentless rhythm against the roof. The silence in the vehicle was heavier than lead.
Silas did not look out the window. He looked at me. He watched the way I breathed. He watched the way my hands gripped the velvet fabric of my gown. He was dissecting my lie piece by piece.
When we finally reached the gothic mansion, I moved to head toward my suite in the east wing.
"No," Silas commanded.
I stopped at the base of the grand staircase. I looked back at him.
"You are sleeping in my quarters tonight," Silas stated. He walked past me, taking the stairs two at a time. "Follow me."
My breath hitched. His private quarters. The inner sanctum of the Beast.
I followed him down the long, shadowed corridor of the west wing. We bypassed his main office and approached a set of heavy, iron reinforced doors. Silas pressed his hand to the metal. The wards hummed, recognizing his bloodline, and the doors swung open.
His bedroom was massive and dark. A huge four poster bed dominated the center of the room. A sprawling stone fireplace cast dancing shadows across the high walls. The air smelled strongly of his bergamot cologne and the faint, lingering scent of old paper.
"Sit on the bed," Silas ordered.
He walked into an adjoining bathroom and returned a moment later carrying a small silver tin. I perched on the edge of the dark mattress, my velvet gown spilling around my legs.
Silas knelt on the floor in front of me. The position was jarring. The heir to the most powerful monster syndicate in the city was kneeling at my feet.
He opened the tin and scooped out a thick, glowing blue salve with his fingers. He reached for my bruised arm.
"This will sting," he warned softly.
He rubbed the magical salve into the dark bruises left by the operative. The pain was sharp for a brief second, followed by a soothing, icy numbness. I watched his face as he worked. His jaw was tight. His golden eyes were focused entirely on my skin. He was treating my injury with a fierce, possessive care.
"Why did you bring me in here?" I asked. My voice sounded small in the massive room.
"Because whoever attacked us tonight bypassed the Council guards," Silas replied, keeping his eyes on my arm. "They are dangerous. And you are my contractor. I protect what belongs to me."
He finished applying the salve and stood up. He walked over to a dark wooden dresser and pulled out a simple black silk shirt. He tossed it onto the bed next to me.
"Change out of that dress," Silas instructed, walking toward the door. "I have business to attend to. Do not leave this room."
He paused with his hand on the heavy iron handle. He turned to look at me one last time. The firelight caught the harsh angles of his face, making him look like a beautiful nightmare.
"The Chimera Cartel does not employ human hunters, Sienna," Silas whispered. The quiet threat in his voice sent a violent shiver down my spine. "Try another lie tomorrow."
The heavy door clicked shut, locking me inside.
I let out a shaky breath and stood up. I was locked in his private bedroom. The Beast knew I was hiding something. The clock was ticking down on my life. I had three days to find the Primal Ledger, and I was currently standing in the center of the only room I had not yet searched.
I looked at the massive stone fireplace. I looked at the dark wooden dressers. My gaze finally settled on a heavy, iron bound chest sitting at the foot of his bed.
The Primal Ledger was close. I could feel the thick, humming magic vibrating in the floorboards.
I had to move fast before he returned.
Author's Note
Sienna is playing a very dangerous game of chess with a Beast who sees right through her! What do you think about Silas putting her in his own bedroom to protect her? Is it a strategic move or is he getting attached? And most importantly, will she find the Primal Ledger inside that iron chest? Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Please like and share if you loved this chapter! See you next time!
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8.9
Audrey Fletcher was forced to marry the notorious playboy Julian Sterling to save her family's sinking company after her sister ran away.
On their wedding night, her new husband threw a $100,000 check at her face, told her they would be strangers in private, and abandoned her in the bridal suite.
She thought being trapped in a loveless, transactional marriage was the worst fate possible.
She was wrong.
To protect herself, Audrey hung a pair of men's boxer shorts on her balcony to fake a lover's presence.
Instead of deterring her husband, the ridiculous ruse brought Alistair Sterling—Julian's terrifying, powerful uncle and the true puppet master of the family.
He stormed into her apartment with a legal team to catch her cheating, and later even offered her ten million dollars to divorce his nephew.
When she refused out of fear of her own family's ruin, the situation escalated.
Forced to attend a charity gala, Audrey was tricked by staff into wearing a scandalous, backless gown and sent to a dark penthouse suite to beg her husband for peace.
But the man waiting in the shadows wasn't Julian. It was Alistair.
"Does the thought of seducing your husband's uncle give you a special kind of thrill?"
He didn't listen to her desperate explanations. Instead, he pinned her arms behind her back and crushed his mouth against hers in a brutal, punishing kiss.
Trembling with terror and revulsion, Audrey bit his lip until she tasted blood, shoved the billionaire away, and ran for her life.
She couldn't understand why this powerful man was so dangerously obsessed with destroying her sham marriage.
But as she fled into the cold city night, she realized the terrifying truth: the real game was just beginning.

8.6
I woke up choking on rotting air in an alien jungle, surrounded by giant bioluminescent ferns and a three-eyed, armor-plated beast charging straight at me.
Before the monster could tear me apart, I was saved by a squad of men with metallic wings and laser rifles, but my nightmare was just beginning.
When they brought me back to their high-tech military base, every soldier we passed stopped dead, staring at me with a feverish, starving hunger that made my skin crawl.
In the medical wing, a manic doctor bypassed all protocol, pulling out a wicked silver needle to forcibly extract my blood, looking at me not as a patient, but as a winning lottery ticket.
Even their highest-ranking commander, a giant, scarred Admiral, immediately tried to claim me, demanding I be moved into his personal bedroom for "protection."
I didn't understand why I was being treated like a caged miracle, nor why a simple, accidental touch of my hand could bring my winged protector to his knees and silence his feral instincts.
"In the Aethel Empire, there are no females," my protector whispered, his icy blue eyes filled with raw desperation. "You are the only one."
The portal that brought me here was fading, trapping me in a universe of eighty billion shapeshifting Alpha males. Looking at the terrifying devotion in his eyes, I realized my life as an ordinary human was over, and to survive this, I had to tame the beasts.

8.2
To save my brother's life, I married a dead billionaire.
My new home was a freezing, high-tech mausoleum where I was ordered to hold a year-long vigil beside Byron Hyde's cryogenic pod.
But I wasn't alone in the dark.
Every night, a terrifying shadow smelling of whiskey and sandalwood pinned me to my narrow bed.
It tore my clothes and brutally claimed my body, leaving me bruised and trembling until dawn.
When I begged the housekeeper for help, showing her my torn skin, she just smiled cruelly.
"It seems the master's spirit has accepted you."
I thought I was being haunted by a vengeful ghost, until Byron's arrogant nephew broke into the tomb to assault me.
His tampering triggered the life-support system, and the heavy lid of the pod hissed open.
Byron Hyde sat up, his eyes lethal and his skin shockingly warm.
He was alive.
Looking at his broad shoulders, I caught the faint scent of whiskey and sandalwood.
The horrific truth hit me like a physical blow.
My nightly tormentor wasn't a ghost. It was my living, breathing husband.
When I confronted him, his eyes were cold and clinical.
"That was a necessary test. I had to know if my wife would break."
A white-hot rage choked me, but I didn't scream or run.
He slipped the priceless, heavy sapphire of the family matriarch onto my finger, offering me absolute power over the treacherous relatives who wanted us both dead.
To fight a monster, you can't be a victim.
I looked into his deep, dangerous eyes and accepted the ring.
If this was a cage, allying with the keeper was the only way to find the key.

8.8
My husband thought I was just a docile wife, easily controlled. He didn't know I'd spent five years meticulously dismantling his life. Tonight, his world would finally crumble into dust.
For five years, I endured Jackson's entitled demands and his family's greed, silently funding their lavish life in our Beverly Hills mansion.
My illusion shattered finding his mistress Amber's lingerie in his suitcase. My attorney just severed all financial ties, making Jackson's arrogant demands hollow.
I tossed my diamond ring into the trash, summoning an industrial compactor. Jackson, his mother, and mistress watched in horror as their designer luggage, bought with my money, was crushed, turning their lavish trip into garbage.
A cold, dead smile marked my cathartic release from five years of betrayal. How could they be so blind to the woman they dismissed?
Stepping into an armored Maybach, I left them in chaos. My iPad confirmed Jackson's credit cards freezing. This wasn't just divorce; it was a calculated demolition, making their pampered lives very real.

7.6
I pulled the perfectly baked Beef Wellington from the oven, its rich scent filling our Manhattan penthouse. For five years, I’d crafted this perfect life, but tonight, I’d discover my entire existence was a cruel, silent lie. The man I loved had built it all on betrayal.
Preparing our anniversary dinner, I reflected on five years of building a flawless home for Blake, a dream I’d never known.
Searching for a pen, I found a hidden compartment in Blake’s desk containing a cheap black USB drive—a significant secret for a man who despised anything less than perfect.
His MacBook unlocked with his birthday, not ours. The USB, after a near-data-wipe, revealed "The Archives": hundreds of photos of Blake with his college girlfriend, Isabelle, passionate love letters, and a wardrobe chosen to mirror hers. My name yielded "0 results found," while millions were wired to Isabelle.
I was a meticulously funded stand-in, a ghost he dressed up to play house. My non-existence in his world and his financial betrayal ignited a cold, burning rage.
Blake returned, dismissive, offering a delayed anniversary gift. I confronted him; he ripped the USB, snapped it, and stated, "Nothing changes, as long as you know your place." My obedience shattered: "I want a divorce," I declared, then destroyed dinner and packed my own bag.

9.3
To the outside world, I was the envy of every she-wolf as the fiancée of Alpha Kael. But inside the gilded cage of his pack house, I was a ghost.
I molded myself into perfection for him, wearing the colors he liked and suppressing my own voice.
Until I walked past his study and saw him with Lyra-the orphan he called his "sister."
His hand rested intimately on her thigh as he laughed, telling her, "Elara is just a political necessity. You are the moon in my sky."
My heart shattered, but the physical blow came days later.
During a training exercise, the safety cable snapped. I fell twenty feet, shattering my leg.
Lying in the dirt, gasping through the pain, I watched my Fated Mate run.
Not to me.
He ran to Lyra, who was burying her face in his chest, feigning terror. He comforted her while I bled.
Later, in the infirmary, I heard him whisper to her, "She won't die. It will just teach her who the real Luna is."
He knew. He knew she had sabotaged the rope with silver, and he was protecting her attempted murder.
The final thread of my love incinerated into ash.
The next morning, I walked into the Council Hall, threw a thick file on the table, and looked the Elders in the eye.
"I am dissolving the engagement," I stated coldly. "And I am withdrawing my family's silver supply. I will starve this Pack until you beg."
Kael laughed, thinking I was bluffing. He didn't notice the lethal Beta from the rival pack standing in the shadows behind me, ready to help me burn Kael's kingdom to the ground.