Blood Oaths

The ballroom floor was painted red by the time silence returned. Bodies lay scattered like discarded chess pieces, and the sweet perfume of roses had been replaced by the metallic sting of blood.

I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, my pulse thundering so hard I thought it might break my ribs. My dress was untouched, but my innocence? That had been shot dead along with the masked men.

Adrian holstered his gun with unnerving calm. His suit was splattered with crimson, his shirt collar loosened just slightly, like this was nothing more than an inconvenience. His gray eyes, cold as steel, found mine.

“You’re shaking.” His voice was low, almost taunting.

“I—” My throat was dry, the word catching. “You just murdered—”

“Enemies,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “Not men. Not husbands. Not fathers. Enemies. Remember that distinction, sweetheart, because it’s one you’ll need to survive.”

I stumbled back, nearly tripping on my gown, but he caught me with iron hands. His grip steadied me, strong and unyielding, as though letting me fall was never an option.

“You think you can stand at my side without blood on your hands?” His gaze pinned me in place. “This is the price of power. This is the oath we live by.”

“I never asked for this!” The words tore out of me, raw and trembling.

He smirked, dark and dangerous. “And yet here you are—my wife, my possession, bound to me by your father’s oath. You can hate me all you want, but you will play your part.”

My lips parted to argue, but the glint in his eyes froze me. He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear.

“Because if you don’t…” His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. “…you’ll find out very quickly what happens to traitors in my world.”

A shiver crawled down my spine. I hated him. I hated the way his words twisted into my skin, the way fear and something darker—something forbidden—tightened in my chest.

Adrian released me, straightening, as if he hadn’t just carved the threat into my soul. He glanced at the guards rushing in to clear the room, his tone casual, almost bored.

“Get her cleaned up,” he ordered them. “She’s shaken.”

“I’m not—” I began, but his sharp look silenced me.

He strode toward the exit, power radiating from every step. Before leaving, he paused, turning just enough for his words to slice through the air.

“Tonight, you learned your first lesson, wife.” His smirk curved into something sinful. “In my world, loyalty is blood. And blood is everything.”

The doors closed behind him, leaving me trembling, surrounded by shadows and secrets.

And as I stood there, clutching the remnants of my pride, I realized something that stole my breath—

I wasn’t afraid of becoming his enemy.

I was afraid of becoming his.

🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️🖤✨️

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