The Assassin's Bride

The alarms split the night like a blade through silk.

Seraphina ran.

Her breath tore through her lungs, a scream lodged in her throat, her bare feet slapping against the cold marble of the corridor. Red light pulsed with each rotation of the siren, bathing the hallway in the same color as her fear. Shouts rose behind her-men barking orders, the metallic snap of rifles being cocked, the stampede of boots hunting her down like bloodhounds unleashed.

She clutched the edge of her silk slip as if it could shield her. It was useless. Everything about her screamed Dante's wife. The way she was dressed. The place she was in. The scent of his cologne still clinging to her skin.

The gates. She just had to make it to the gates.

If she could breach them, she might-might-stand a chance.

The night air slapped her damp skin as she burst from the villa's back entrance, her eyes straining against the glare of the floodlights that ringed the courtyard. The place was alive with movement-engines roaring, headlights flaring, guards scattering like ants from a disturbed nest.

Seraphina skidded to the side, the stone tearing at her feet. A shot cracked-stone chips exploded near her ankle. She yelped, stumbling, but pushed harder, lungs on fire. She couldn't let them catch her. Not now. Not after tonight.

A row of black cars stood ahead, polished to a shine, sleek beasts crouched in the dark. Most belonged to Dante's men. But one-one sat slightly apart. A shadow among shadows. Its engine purred low, restrained, waiting.

It wasn't parked like the others, in neat military precision. It angled just enough to suggest... freedom.

Her pulse roared in her ears as she veered toward it.

Please, please...

Her fingers fumbled at the handle. It gave. The door unlatched with the softest click. Seraphina slid inside, her body curling instinctively into the leather backseat, heart pounding so hard it made her ribs ache.

The interior was cool, quiet. The windows tinted so dark the chaos outside dulled to shadows and muted shouts. She pressed a trembling hand over her mouth, fighting to quiet her ragged breathing.

The door on the driver's side opened.

Her blood went cold.

He filled the frame- a tall silhouette, cut sharp against the spill of light from the compound. For a single terrifying second she thought it was one of Dante's guards.

Then the figure leaned in, and a voice slid through the dark. Smooth. Low. Unhurried.

"Who are you?"

Seraphina's body jolted like he'd fired a shot at her. She pressed back against the leather, her lips trembling, words tangled in panic.

"P-please," she whispered, barely audible, her throat burning. "Please don't tell them I'm here."

The man didn't move. Didn't bark orders, didn't drag her out. He just stood there, a shadow wrapped in composure, eyes hidden but locked on her all the same. She could feel it-the weight of his gaze peeling her apart layer by layer, as if he was in no hurry because the night already belonged to him.

Seconds dragged. The noise outside thundered.

And then, without a word, he slid in. The car's interior shifted around his presence, a sudden awareness of danger filling the confined space.

The door shut with a quiet thud. The engine, already alive, growled deeper under his command.

Seraphina's breath hitched.

He didn't head for the gates. He drove in silence, steering them along the edges of the compound where the shadows thickened. Not far. Not safe. Just away enough to buy a pocket of stillness.

Her fingers dug into the seat, her entire body taut as a bowstring. She'd thrown herself into a stranger's car-and he wasn't even pretending to be a savior.

Finally, his voice came again, unhurried, calm.

"Talk."

Seraphina blinked at him, her vision blurring with panic. "I... I'm Dante's wife."

No reaction.

Her chest tightened. "I never wanted this marriage. He caged me. Used me. Paraded me like some... trophy. I couldn't breathe inside those walls."

The man's profile remained steady. A faint reflection of his eyes caught in the dash's glow-cold, pale, unreadable.

Her throat worked. "I've been planning to escape for weeks, but there's no way out. Guards, cameras, checkpoints. He made sure no one could get in or out without his say-so." Her voice shook, bitter and raw. "I was suffocating. But then..."

The words tumbled out now, faster, messier, fueled by terror. "Then I heard him talking one night to his men. He said my father has meddled too long in his business, that he was done with having to deal with it. Done with having to deal with me. He... he hired someone. An assassin."

Her hands trembled. "They called him Viper."

Something shifted in the driver's seat.

Not much. Just enough. A tilt of his head, a stillness that sharpened.

Seraphina sucked in a breath, mistaking it for indifference. "Once my family's gone, I'm next. He said it himself. I'd been planning for weeks on how I'd escape. I couldn't figure out the perfect time. But then today I heard one of his men tell him Viper had landed in the city. And I knew then that if I didn't run tonight, I'd never get the chance again. So I took it. I ran. I had to."

Silence.

Her heart thudded painfully. She wiped at her damp cheek with the back of her hand, her voice splintering. "You don't understand. If he finds me-if he catches me-I'm dead."

The man finally turned his head. Slowly.

His gaze landed on her, and for the first time she saw his eyes clearly. Icy. Glacial. Not cruel, not kind. Just a calmness so complete it felt alien.

"What's your name?"

"Seraphina. But most people just call me Sera."

"You seem quite afraid of this... Viper." His voice threaded the air like smoke. "You've built him into a monster in your head."

"Well, I haven't heard much about him. But from what I hear, he literally invented a new way to slit your throat vertically so you'll bleed out faster." She said without looking up to catch the amused look on his face. "Who wouldn't be afraid of the Einstein of murder?"

And then his mouth curved. Not much. Just the barest hint.

An almost amused smile.

What's so funny at a time like this?

The amusement wasn't loud, wasn't mocking. It was quieter, heavier. The kind that came from someone who knew.

His smile faded, leaving something sharper behind. He looked at her like a predator humoring prey.

"Well, won't you ask me for mine?" His voice came again, quite. Cold. "My name, I mean. Won't you ask what my name is?"

Her skin prickled, realization creeping in too slow, too late.

"W-what is your name...sir?" She asked, even though deep down, she already knew the answer.

"I'm glad you asked, Seraphina." She could barely hear him over the thundering of her own heart. "The name's Kael Veyron. Though friends call me... Viper."