The Mafia Villain's Trapped Canary

According to the glowing comments floating in mid-air, I am the toxic ex who is supposed to die tonight.

Five years deep undercover as the spoiled trophy girlfriend of the citys most lethal mob boss, and my exit ticket has finally arrived. The HeroineDawnis walking through the front door right now. The chat stream is going wild, screaming that she is Killians true fate and I am just a roadblock.

Perfect.

I grip my suitcase, ready to play my final scene. I march into the living room, summon fake tears, and point an accusatory finger at him. "You found a new toy," I sob, "so Im leaving."

I wait for him to kick me out. I wait for the script to play out. Instead, Killian ignores the "Heroine" completely. He looks at me with eyes cold enough to freeze hell over. "Lock the door," he commands his guards. "Nobody leaves."

Chapter 1

Escape attempt: Failed.

I stood rooted to the center of the living room floor. My feet felt like they were encased in concrete.

Killians voice cut through the silence behind me. Low. Baritone. Dangerous.

"Come here."

It wasnt a request. It never was. His presence alone was a physical weight in the room.

For five years, I had perfected the role of his fragile, high-maintenance canary. I was the girl who needed him. The girl who broke without him. Every fiber of my being wanted to run, but I turned around.

I walked toward him. Slow. Hesitant.

Killian crushed his cigarette into the crystal ashtray. The second I was within reach, he yanked me forward.

I stumbled, landing hard in his lap. His arms locked around me instantly like steel bands. He looked down at me, eyes dark and unreadable. "What is the drama about this time?"

I didn't need a script. I put on the mask. The pouty, spoiled brat.

"You brought another woman into our house," I accused, letting a tear slip down my cheek. "You have the nerve to ask me whats wrong? I should be asking you."

The floating comments scrolled past my vision, fast and furious. All of them hating on me.

[I am so done with this toxic drama queen.]

[If she wasn't there, the Villain would be holding the Heroine right now.]

[Too bad the Heroine doesn't know how to play dirty like this snake.]

[[The Heroine is just too pure. She loses because she has morals.]]

Above me, Killian let out a cold, sharp laugh.

"What is going on in that head of yours?" He smirked. "That girl was a walking wire. She hadn't even finished removing the wires taped to her chest."

He stood up, effortlessly lifting me with him. He held me easily, one arm under my thighs, and started walking toward the stairs. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck to anchor myself.

"What do you mean?" I blinked, feigning confusion. "I thought she was some stray you picked up?"

Killian glanced at me. His expression was flat. "I don't have a hobby of collecting strays."

My stomach dropped through the floor.

Damn it.

The excuse was dead on arrival. The mission had been over for six months. Six long, agonizing months.

I had been trying to find a way out, a reason to leave him that wouldn't result in a bullet to the back of the head. But Killian called it "protection." I called it solitary confinement.

If I went for a walk, two SUVs full of armed guards trailed me. His circle was ironclad. A fortress. The only way out was if he opened the gate himself.

The text was still scrolling in the air. "They" first appeared three days ago. The moment the text appeared, it was all about the Heroine, the Hero, and the Villain.

I watched. I analyzed. I cross-referenced the timeline. Killian was the Villain. No doubt about it.

The comments spoiled the plot: The Villain meets the Heroine at the club today. It was supposed to be a classic trope. The dark, dangerous mob boss falls for the innocent girl serving drinks. He saves her from a creep. Love at first sight.

Killian was supposed to follow the script.

I had packed my bags three days ago. My plan was perfect: Use his new obsession with the HeroineDawnas the catalyst. I would throw a massive tantrum, break up with him, and disappear into the night while he was distracted by his new love interest.

I didn't want to get involved in their twisted romance. I just wanted to finish this job and get the hell out. But I never predicted this.

I rested my head on Killian's shoulder, feeling dead inside. He reached the bedroom door and kicked it open. Slam.

Killian had the instincts of a wolf. He could smell fear. He could taste a lie. I was zoning out, lost in my failed escape plan, when he suddenly stopped.

He used a knuckle to lift my chin, forcing me to look at him. "You don't seem happy, Ivy."

His eyes searched mine. Drilling into me.

I plastered on a smile. I leaned into him, soft and pliable, burying my face in his neck to hide my eyes. "I just missed you. You haven't been home in a long time."

Killian chuckled. The sound vibrated against my chest. His large hand moved up, gripping the back of my neck. Possessive. Dominant.

Warm.

Chapter 2

The next morning, I woke up feeling heavy.

The first thing I saw was the text. Hateful. Degrading. They called me a snake, a gold-digger who only knew how to use her body.

[The Heroine is nothing like her.]

[Dawn is smart. Capable. She got close to a top-tier predator like Killian right out of the gate.]

[If this drama queen hadnt thrown a tantrum]

[They would have hooked up yesterday.]

[Its all this bitchs fault.]

[[Don't worry. The Villain isn't stupid.]]

[He kept Dawn locked up, right?]

[Hes never been this gentle with intruders. Maybe he does have feelings for her.]

[Hell see Dawns worth soon enough. Ivy is getting dumped. Counting down the days.]

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. Yesterday, the Heroine was "too pure and innocent for this world." Today, she was a tactical genius. The hypocrisy was astounding.

As for Killian dumping me? I would welcome it.

I rubbed the ache in my lower back.

Five years ago, I didn't plan to be this close. I applied to be Killian's assistant with a real Ivy League degree and a fake identity. I just wanted access. I wasn't going to sell my body for a mission.

But Killian didnt play by the rules. Six months. Two bullets blocked. Five hangovers cured. And just like that, I was promoted from Executive Assistant to Canary.

The mission was stalled. Killian was a dictator. He didn't give me a choice. So I became the pretty bird in his gilded cage.

The bedroom door creaked open. Killian walked in, wearing black silk pajamas that hung loose on his broad shoulders.

I blinked. Surprised. He was usually gone by now, running his empire. Today, he was still here.

My shock must have been written all over my face because he actually smiled. A faint, rare thing. Seeing him smile didn't make me feel special. It terrified me.

He sat on the edge of the bed. His large hand slid under the duvet, finding the sore spot on my waist. He began to massage it. Firm. Possessive.

"Didn't you complain yesterday that I haven't been home enough?" He looked down at me, his gaze heavy. "I cleared my schedule. I'm staying home with you for a while."

The smile died on my lips.

The chat exploded, accusing me of manipulating him again. But this time, Killian stayed too long.

Usually, when he was gone, I could dodge the guards. Send a coded message to my handlerGordon. Leak a location. But for ten straight days, I was glued to Killian's side. Suffocating. Claustrophobic.

On the tenth morning, over breakfast, I snapped. I decided to pick a fight.

"Where is that girl you brought home?" I asked, stabbing at my eggs.

Killian sat across from me in dark loungewear. He didn't look like a mob boss who could end a bloodline with a phone call. He looked like a refined gentleman. Elegant. Dangerous.

He didn't look up from his newspaper. "Locked up."

I nodded. The chat might be right. She was the Heroine, after all. Killian was treating her differently. He hadn't killed her yet.

Chapter 3

I pressed on, testing the waters. "Will you get bored of me? Bring another woman home?"

Killian didn't even blink. "No."

I didn't care about the answer. It was just the setup.

"What about me?" I lowered my voice to a whisper. "What if someone pursues me?"

I held my breath. Was there a way out? A clause in this twisted contract?

Killian slowly lowered the newspaper. His expression didn't change. It was perfectly still. But the temperature in the room plummeted.

"If anyone dared to pursue you," he said, his voice soft, almost gentle. "I'd tear him apart."

He said it like he was discussing the weather. A shiver racked my body. Involuntary. Primal.

He had been tame for the last two years. Gentle, even. I had forgotten. Under the suit lived a monster. A ruthless, possessive beast.

"Don't be scared, Ivy."

His hand reached out, cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed over my skin. "You can throw all the tantrums you want," he murmured, leaning in close. "Just remember one thing. Never betray me. And never think about leaving me."

His gaze was intense. Heavy. Like gravity. I stared into his dark eyes and nodded. It was instinct. Survival.

The corner of his mouth ticked up. Satisfied, he released me.

Three days later, I saw the Heroine again. Killian's warning was clear: Leaving him through "breakup" was off the table. I needed a new strategy.

Dawnthe Heroineand those floating comments were my lifeline. The comments said she was "special." That she had "plot armor." Killian said I could be a brat.

Fine. Being a brat was my specialty. I breezed past the heavy topic and circled back to jealousy.

That night, I sat on his lap while he worked. "Where is she?" I asked, tracing a pattern on his chest. "That pretty girl you brought home."

Killian didn't look away from his laptop screen. His hand idly stroked my waist. Up and down. "Locked up."

"Is she really a problem?" I rested my head on his shoulder. "You never bring 'problems' home. You usually just deal with them." I paused for effect. "She's so pretty, too."

Killian finally looked down at me. A faint, amused smile played on his lips. "I can't dispose of her yet," he said. "She is useful."

Useful. That was the key. But my character had a line to deliver.

"Who is prettier?" I pouted. "Her or me?"

Killian squeezed my hand. Hard. "Don't compare yourself to her," he said flatly.

Chapter 4

The chat stream was relentless. They were dragging me through the mud.

[Why is she so obsessed with comparing herself to Dawn?]

[She isn't even in the same league.]

[Dawn only got close to the Villain to investigate her parents' murder. She's on a mission.]

[Dawn is brave. Smart. Beautiful.]

[Unlike this gold-digging parasite.]

[The audacity to even compare herself to the Heroine.]

I ignored the insults. They were just pixels. Noise. I only cared about the intel.

Dawn is investigating her parents' murder.

I scanned the floating text, then looked back at Killian's sharp profile. "Let me see her," I whined, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck. "Prove she isn't special."

Killian stopped typing. He turned his chair to face me. "Why do you want to see her?"

He refused at first. It took days of nagging. Days of fake jealousy and tantrums. Finally, he cracked.

Today, I was following him across the estate. The entire mountainside belonged to Killian. A sprawling fortress of wealth and violence. He had locked Dawn in the most isolated guesthouse on the property.

Guards lined the path like statues. One of them pulled the heavy door open.

The inside was dim. Only a sliver of natural light filtered in. I squinted. Through the haze of dust motes dancing in the light beam, I saw her.

Dawn sat in the center of the empty room. Or rather, she was anchored there. Steel chains bound her wrists and ankles.

My brow furrowed involuntarily. It was brutal.

At that exact moment, Dawn snapped her head up. Her eyes met mine. Across the distance, something sparked. Recognition? Pity?

Suddenly, warm fingers touched my cheek. Killian.

"See?" His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the scene. "I'm not keeping her as a mistress."

He blocked my path, preventing me from stepping inside. "I am simply keeping her."

He gestured with his chin toward the exit. "Wait outside."

Being a brat had limits. Push too hard, and you stop being cute. You become a liability.

"Okay," I whispered.

I turned around slowly, my eyes sweeping the room. Windows. Locks. Cameras. I memorized the layout in a heartbeat.

The heavy door began to close behind me. Just before it clicked shut, I heard Killian's voice change. The warmth evaporated. It was pure ice.

"Have you made up your mind yet?" he asked the girl in chains.

Chapter 5

I waited a week for my window.

Killian flew out of state for business. Finally, I had room to breathe. I spent two days studying the wiring.

When the storm hit, it was perfect. Thunder rattled the windows. Rain lashed against the glass. I tripped the main breaker. A "natural" power outage.

I slipped out into the deluge. I sprinted through the dense forest behind the main house, circling wide to reach the isolated guesthouse. I climbed through the window, soaked and shivering.

Dawn looked at me. Calm. Expectant. She knew I was coming.

I didn't waste a second. I pulled a bobby pin from my hair and knelt by her shackles. Lockpicking 101. The mechanism clicked. Open.

"Are you forced to be here?" Dawn asked softly. Her voice was steady, despite the situation. "Trapped on this mountain?"

I kept my eyes on the lock. "Yes and no."

I had walked into the lion's den willingly, after all.

"Why help me?"

I looked up at her. "Because I need you to help me," I whispered. "I want to escape too."

The ankle cuffs clicked open. "But without Killian's permission, I can never leave."

The rest of the night played out like a movie scene.

Dawn "escaped" into the rain. Halfway down the drive, she "ambushed" methe helpless, fragile girlfriend. A shard of glass pressed against my throat. She used me as a human shield, backing away step by step, forcing the guards to open gate after gate.

"Get me a car!" she screamed.

The glass nicked my skin. A thin line of blood trickled down my neck. Real pain. Real blood. She shoved me hard toward the guards, jumped into the waiting SUV, and floored it.

She was gone.

Killian returned that same night. He took a helicopter. The rotors were still spinning when he stormed into our bedroom.

I had just stepped out of the shower. The cut on my neck was raw, angry red against my pale skin.

Killian saw it instantly. His brow furrowed. He radiated suppressed violence.

He grabbed my arm and yanked me toward him. Hard. But when he touched the wound with the antiseptic, his fingers were incredibly gentle.

I rested my hand on his shoulder, trembling slightly. "I'm sorry."

Killian didn't look at me. He was focused on the cut. "Why are you apologizing?"

"If I hadn't let her grab me maybe she wouldn't have gotten away."

"It's not your fault," he said. Flat.

I pushed my luck. "Did she escape?"

Killian finally looked up. His eyes were pitch black. Bottomless. There was something in thema complex, swirling emotion I couldn't name. He stared at me for a long time.

"They went after her."

He shut down the conversation. His hand slid down to my waist. I flinched. It tickled.

Killian lifted the hem of my silk nightgown. His rough thumb traced the tattoo inked into the skin of my side. "Two years, and it still tickles?"

He had tattooed it there himself. Branding his property.

I shook my head. "I don't feel anything anymore."

Chapter 6

Dawn had vanished. She had slipped through the net of Killian's mountain fortress and vanished into the wind.

But after that night, everything changed. Killian started taking me everywhere.

For the last five years, I had been a ghost. Locked away in his tower. I waited when he was busy. I entertained when he returned. The world knew Killian kept a mistress. But no one knew my face.

Now? I was his shadow. High-stakes board meetings. Lavish galas dripping in diamonds and champagne. Even the dangerous trips to the borderlands. I was always by his side.

He was watching me closer than ever. But even under his microscopic surveillance, I managed to make contact.

Dawn. That night in the rain, with a shard of glass against my throat, she had whispered her name. She sent word: The Charity Gala. Next month. On the yacht.

That was the extraction point.

A month of waiting. A month of panic. I had been trying to escape Killian for a year. Every attempt had failed. Every plan had crumbled.

My nerves were frayed wires. Thirty days. A million variables. What if he didn't go? What if he left me behind? What if I got there and froze?

But the month bled away, and Killian took me with him. No questions asked.

As the massive yacht cut through the dark ocean, Killian led me to a private booth on the second floor. The view was perfect. But I wasn't looking at the sea.

I scanned the ballroom below. Hunting. My gaze snagged on the bartender. Heavy makeup. A wig. But I recognized the eyes. Dawn.

Suddenly, a hand clamped around my wrist. "What are you looking at?"

Killian's voice was right next to my ear.

I snapped back to reality. He was staring at me. Dissecting me. His gaze was a physical weight, pinning me to the chair.

"Nothing," I lied, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I just I need to use the restroom."

Killian stood up before I could move. He reached for my hand. "Let's go. I'll walk you."

I pulled back slightly. "It's just the bathroom, Killian." I tried to keep my voice steady. "I can go by myself."

A strange, crooked smile twisted his lips. "I haven't had a chance to tell you yet."

His hand slid to my waist, thumb pressing into the soft flesh. "The results from your check-up a few days ago came back."

He leaned down. His lips brushed the shell of my ear. Warm breath. Chilling words.

"Baby, you're pregnant."

His grip on my hand tightened. Crushing.

"From now on, I will take extra special care of you."

My head snapped up. Shock paralyzed me. I stared at him, searching for the lie. But his eyes were dead serious.

"Let's go," he said. "I'll walk you to the restroom."

Chapter 7

For the last month, my brain had been consumed by the escape plan. I ignored the insomnia. The loss of appetite. I chalked it up to stress. Even the hospital visit two days agoI thought it was just routine. Another one of Killian's control tactics.

Pregnant. The word echoed in my skull.

My shock must have been painted on my face. Killian smiled. A genuine, terrifying smile.

"Are you that happy?" he asked.

The smile on this handsome, ruthless man didn't feel like joy. It felt like a trap. But he acted like he couldn't see the terror in my eyes. His hand rested heavy on my shoulder.

"I have another surprise for you."

He signaled with a flick of his wrist. The music shifted instantly. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. Staff rolled out carts overflowing with imported roses. A velvet box appeared.

And then, the impossible happened.

Killianthe man who ruled the city with an iron fistdropped to one knee. In front of everyone. He held up a ring. A massive, glittering rock.

He was proposing.

"Ivy," he said, his voice soft, almost unrecognizable. "Will you marry me?"

The music died. The room went silent. No one dared to disrespect Killian. Cheers erupted. Someone whistled.

Killians head snapped toward the noise. "Quiet," he commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room like a blade. "Let her think."

Silence fell instantly. Absolute. Suffocating. The only sound was the crashing of waves against the hull outside.

I was cornered. I didn't want to marry him. I wanted to run. But saying no would shatter the illusion I had built for five years. It would raise flags. It would get me killed.

My eyes darted to the bar. Dawn was wiping down the counter, head down. But for a split second, she looked up. She gave me a microscopic nod.

Do it.

The chat stream was screaming at me.

[I am so sick of this drama queen.]

[Dawn planned this for months. She even got the Hero involved just to save this ungrateful brat.]

[It feels like she's gonna ruin it.]

[If she goes all love-struck now, I swear]

[She is going to waste everyone's effort!]

[Dawn shouldn't have bothered.]

I closed my eyes for a second. Breathe. Focus.

I reached out. My hand trembled as I moved toward the ring. "I"

The words died in my throat.

BANG!

The double doors flew open. Kicked in. "FBI!"

Agents swarmed the room, weapons drawn. "We have a report of illegal trafficking! Hands on your heads! Get down! Now!"

In a heartbeat, Killian was on his feet. He was instantly at my side, his grip on my hand tightening to a vice.

Amidst the chaos, the screaming, and the drawn guns, I saw the text floating in the air.

[The Hero is finally here.]

[Thank god. Trent is here. Now I can breathe.]

Chapter 8

We walked out of the precinct just before dawn. The crisis was "handled." Lawyers. Bribes. Influence.

Killian draped his heavy black trench coat over my shoulders. "Are you cold?"

I looked up at him. His face was a mask of calm. Unbothered. Untouchable. I shook my head slowly.

The interrogation had been exhausting. But my mind was racing. The information I got from Dawn in the holding cell, combined with the chat stream, exposed a terrifying truth.

The raid wasn't random.

[This is a canon event. The Hero ambushes the Villain here. It is the beginning of the end for Killian.]

[Even with the drama queen messing things up, the main plot shouldn't change.]

[Wait, why is the Villain walking out free? He should be in handcuffs.]

Dawn had sat across from me in the interrogation room, sliding a paper cup of water across the metal table.

"We investigated this for months," she whispered. "We had evidence. Informants. The plan was to use the raid to arrest him and get you out."

She sighed, frustration etched into her features. "But it's impossible. After a full sweep, Killian came up clean. Impossibly clean."

Where did it go wrong?

I stared at Killian now. His handsome, refined face betrayed nothing. No stress. No fear.

"Let's go. Get in the car." He took my hand, leading me toward the waiting black SUV.

I looked down. He was still holding the ring box. My eyes focused on the intricate pattern engraved on the ring. It was familiar.

A sudden, chilling realization hit me. It matched the design of the tattoo on my side. The one Killian had inked himself.

"Killian."

I stopped dead on the sidewalk. He stopped, turning back to me with a low hum of acknowledgment.

I forced a smile. It felt like glass. "I realized I never asked you. What does the tattoo on my waist actually mean?"

He looked down at me, his eyes dark.

"You were right," I continued, my voice trembling slightly. "It's been two years. Why does it still itch every time you touch it?"

The wind howled between us, biting and cold.

"Is it because you put something under the skin?" I whispered the words. "Is it an implant?"

The faint smile on Killian's lips vanished. Gone. Without the smile, his face was terrifying. A blank slate of indifference and latent violence.

Fear spiked in my chest. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. But he didn't strike. He just pulled me into the car. The heavy door thudded shut, sealing us in silence. The car glided forward.

Killian's hand moved to my waist, resting lightly over the spot. "Yes."

He admitted it. He didn't blink. He didn't apologize.

I closed my eyes