Roman and Julienne's heart desire
Chapter 45: The Stroll Through Hell

Chapter 45: The Stroll Through Hell

"You want to learn how to fight, right?" Roman asked carefully, his hand circling Julie’s with unexpected gentleness—such a contrast to the cold man she had glimpsed hours ago beneath the surface.

"Hmm," Julie hummed softly, her eyes locked with his.

The warmth in them, the way they searched hers so earnestly, made it impossible to say no.

She had every reason to fear him, to walk away... and yet she didn’t want to.

"That’s why I brought you here," Roman continued with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Though we’ll be practicing sometimes at home too."

His voice was calm, low, almost hopeful.

But Julie could sense the unspoken truth behind his words—this wasn’t just about teaching her to fight.

This was about keeping her close, about making sure she didn’t run.

She tilted her head, smiling gently.

"Okay, don’t look at me like that. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t run away because of who you are."

Roman’s heart surged in his chest. The air felt like it had shifted, like some fire that had been burning in the room had finally been quenched.

Her words didn’t just reassure him—they healed something deeper. His shoulders eased.

His fingers tightened around hers, but with tenderness.

From a short distance away, Azazel grinned like an idiot. "Sister, I didn’t know you were this romantic," he teased, a big smile spreading across his face.

Julie blushed hard, her cheeks glowing as red as her heart felt full.

She tried to hide it, but the smile gave her away.

She lowered her gaze, feeling Roman’s intense eyes still watching her—like she was the only person in the room.

"I like your every version," Roman said softly, and Julie’s blush deepened until her face was nearly crimson.

"Let me show you around," he murmured, stepping forward slightly—only to pause and reach for her hand again.

Their fingers intertwined effortlessly, like they had always belonged together. She didn’t resist.

They walked hand in hand.

The mansion was quiet that afternoon, birds chirping lazily outside the window as Grandma Lisa scrolled through her messages with half-interest.

Then, a new notification blinked onto her screen.

A photo.

From one of her private eyes stationed at Roman’s estate.

She frowned and tapped it open, expecting to see something boring.

Maybe Azazel falling asleep in a meeting or Roman looking grumpy at a weapons deal.

What she saw instead made her teacup clink hard against the saucer.

It was Roman.

But not alone.

He was standing in front of his car, his shirt slightly rumpled, one hand cradling the back of a girl’s head, the other around her waist.

And their lips were locked. Soft but sure. Intimate.

The girl... wasn’t anyone Lisa recognized.

Her face half-hidden against Roman’s cheek. But she was smiling, clearly enjoying the kiss.

Lisa froze, eyes darting across every pixel. Zooming in. Enhancing.

"Who... who is she?" she whispered aloud, squinting.

Another zoom. Still no clues.

No signature necklace. No recognizable family tattoo.

Not one of the women from any of the alliance houses. Not even from the underground social circle.

She was... a nobody.

And Roman was kissing her like she was his entire world.

Lisa’s pulse skyrocketed.

"So this boy has a woman, and he didn’t tell me?!"

She nearly threw the phone. Instead, she gasped dramatically and grabbed her chest.

"No wonder he’s been disappearing. No wonder he said ’they’re safe.’ It’s not just Azazel—it’s him and this... this mystery girl!"

A beat of silence.

And then it hit her. Like betrayal dipped in sugar.

"He kissed her." She looked at the screen again, voice trembling. "He kissed her like I raised him with no shame at all."

Her eye twitched as the reality settled in.

Roman—her Roman—the boss of the family, the one she raised like a lion cub, was out here kissing girls in training rooms like some love-struck teenager.

And worse...

He hadn’t told her a single thing.

" When I find out who she is," Lisa muttered, standing to her feet like a general suiting up for war, "I’m going to lock him in a room, ask him nicely, and if that doesn’t work—I’ll interrogate him myself."

She stormed out into the hall, yelling like a tornado wrapped in pearls.

"Albart!!! Get the car! We’re going to Roman’s! Bring the steel cane. No, the polished one—this is a formal ambush!"

Julie’s heels clicked faintly against the cold concrete floor, the sound almost swallowed by the thickness of the air.

Roman walked beside her, silent, hands behind his back, his presence calm—almost regal.

But the deeper they went, the less human the place felt.

She tried not to flinch at the echo of a scream that rippled down the hallway.

It was sharp. Male. Raw with agony.

Roman didn’t blink.

They passed a closed steel door, faint red light bleeding from beneath it.

A low, rhythmic sound followed them. Whimpers. Then a single word: Please.

Julie turned her face slightly, as if that could protect her from hearing it.

"Interrogation wing," Roman said simply. "They talk eventually. Everyone does."

Another corridor opened to a long room behind reinforced glass.

Inside, two men in their twenties were locked in a savage sparring match. One stumbled, blood trailing from his mouth.

"Training," Roman said. "Rookies. We break them down, build them right. Fearless. Obedient."

Julie’s stomach clenched as a young boy—not more than seventeen—was knocked to the floor by his opponent.

He got up, jaw set, nose bleeding.

"Is this what loyalty costs?" she asked under her breath.

Roman’s lips twitched. Not a smile. Something colder.

"Loyalty is the cheapest thing here. Betrayal is what costs."

They turned a corner. The lighting was dimmer now, shadows clinging to the walls.

Ahead was the sound of leather snapping, a wet grunt, and another crack.

They passed a room with the door slightly ajar. Inside, a man was chained to a wall, back flayed raw. Another blow landed.

Julie stopped. She couldn’t move.

Roman looked at her. "Discipline chamber."

"He... failed you?" she asked, voice trembling.

"No. He lied."

Julie nodded, barely, and kept walking. Her legs moved, but they felt wrong. Heavy.

Next was a room of quiet efficiency—metal tables, open crates of guns, men working with eerie calm.

The click of magazines being loaded, the cool shine of bullets lined up like silver teeth.

"Armory," Roman said, almost proud.

Farther down, they entered a room aglow with monitors.

Surveillance footage flickered—a street corner, a rival boss’s compound, a hidden camera inside a nightclub.

"Control room. I see what I need to. Hear what matters."

Julie didn’t speak. She saw her reflection in one of the screens—eyes wide, lips pale.

Then Roman opened a door and a wave of icy air rolled out.

Stairs led down into a dark place. They descended in silence.

The air changed. It was stale. Sour.

At the bottom were thick iron bars. Behind them—silence. No screams.

No movement. Just shapes in the dark. Human shapes. Some watching. Some not.

"The forgotten," Roman said. "Underground cells."

Julie whispered, "They’re still alive?"

"For now."

She stepped back.

At last, they entered the final room. It was... beautiful, in a sick way.

Once a chapel. Stained glass still clung to the upper windows, though the images had been scratched and painted over.

Candles flickered in the corners. A man knelt before an altar, knife pressed to his palm, whispering words she didn’t understand.

"Blood oath," Roman said softly. "No one walks away clean."

Julie turned to him. "Why show me this?"

Roman met her eyes. "Because this is me, Julie. This is what I am. If you want the truth, don’t look away."

She wanted to. God, she wanted to. But she didn’t.

She looked.

"Come with me," Roman said and tug her hand out of there.

The underground hall was quieter than Julie expected.

It wasn’t dark exactly—there were soft, amber lights embedded in the stone walls, casting a warm glow as she and Roman walked side by side down the narrow corridor.

The deeper they went, the cooler the air became, and the more she felt like she’d stepped into another world—one Roman didn’t show many people.

But despite the atmosphere, Roman kept the mood light.

"Don’t worry," he said, giving her hand a small squeeze. "There are no ghosts or secret snakes."

Julie chuckled softly. "I wasn’t scared."

"Liar," he smirked, and she nudged his shoulder playfully.

It felt oddly peaceful—for a place underground.

He stopped in front of a heavy metal door and pulled out a key.

Before she could ask what was behind it, he glanced at her.

"Stay here. I just need to grab something quickly from this room."

She raised an eyebrow. "You’re locking me out?"

"Temporarily." His grin was casual, but his tone had a weight she couldn’t miss. "It’s... not a place I planned to show you."

He stepped inside quickly, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Julie waited outside, arms crossed. She tilted her head, curiosity bubbling.

But then—a sound.

A loud clang. Like something metal falling off a table.

She flinched, and by instinct stepped closer to the door—just in time for it to swing open a little more. Her eyes wandered in.

That’s when she saw them.