VOWS OF BLOOD AND FIRE

CHAPTER 1: THE BLOOD VOW

Bang!

Gunshots echoed through the chapel, silencing the whispers and scraping across Amara's spine like a razor. A man in the third pew dropped forward, blood blooming from his white suit like a cursed flower. His head slammed against the polished wood as gasps erupted through the velvet draped cathedral.

Amara didn't flinch, she kept her chin high, spine straight and her lips painted wine red to match the colour of her dress, a Valentino tradition for blood debts, sealed by marriage.

The man beside her, tall, terrifying and infamously untouchable lowered the smoking gun with cold grace and returned it to the holster beneath his blazer.

Luca Valentino didn't even blink. The king of the Valentino syndicate didn't need permission to kill, not even at his own wedding. He acted all natural like he'd just swatted a fly.

The priest cleared his throat nervously, stepping around the crumpled body.

"Shall....shall we continue?"

Whispers tore through the crowd like dying breaths. Mafiosos, wives, killers and politicians all masked in gold and silk, watching the ceremony like a gladiator match.

Amara focused on the altar. Her heart pounded like a trapped animal, but her expression remained perfectly composed.

Do it for Micah, she chanted to herself repeatedly. Her brother's tears streaked face flashed behind her eyes. The chains, the syringe, the videos. If she didn't go through with this marriage, they'd kill him.

A hand brushed hers with elegant commanding fingers covered with rings.

Luca's touch was deceptively gentle. But he was a monster in a tailored suit. He leaned in slightly, his breath fanning her neck, voice brushing her ears like the kiss of a blade.

"Smile for the cameras, amore, this is a celebration."

She wanted to spit in his face, but she smiled. Cameras flashed and the world watched. But this wasn't a wedding, it was a power play, streamed into private underworld lounges across different continents.

Luca Valentino marrying a nobody waitress? Nobody believed it was love, but no one will question it, not after the body that just dropped mid ceremony.

"Re...repeat after me," the priest stammered.

"I Luca Angelo Valentino...."

"I Luca Angelo Valentino," Luca repeated, his voice smooth and twice as dangerous. "Swear upon the blood of my ancestors, the fire of my soul, and the legacy I carry..to take this woman," he turned, his eyes dark~gold, almost unnatural held her in place. "Amara Elena Costa," he said slowly, lips curving "liar...thief...wife."

Her breath caught. Was that part of the vow?

Her heartbeat stopped briefly. From far across the hall, a pair of sharp eyes met hers.

Dante Marchesi. The man who owned her fate nodded once.

He'd given the order. Get close fl Luca, deliver the Intel, find out the source of his wealth, and get out. Except now she wasn't getting out, she was being pulled under.

She forced herself to speak.

"I Amara Elena Costa," her voice clear but tight, "Swear upon the blood I bleed, the lies I carry and the lives I owe, to take this man."

Luca's eyebrow arched, a mocking smirk played on the corners of his lips. He'd heard it too, her tight rebellion buried in the lines.

The priest placed a ceremonial blade on the ceremonial cushion between them.

Luca picked it up.

"Give me your hand," he said.

She hesitated, before placing her trembling palm in his.

He slicked her skin cleanly. No hesitation, no cruelty, just precision. Then he cut his own. Blood to blood, he laced their fingers together and squeezed.

The heat from his touch was immediate and unnatural. It traveled up her wrist, burning into her bloodstream like a secret being branded into her soul.

The priest spoke again. "By ancient vow, sealed in blood and witnessed by fire, I pronounce you bound."

The fire at the edge of the altar roared, literal flames, a symbolic tradition. But this time, the flames flared blue.

A murmur rose in the room, uneasy whispers. Flames weren't supposed to turn blue.

Luca didn't react. Her lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to to bloody seam between them and whispered.

" I warned you, Amara. Smile for the cameras, traitor...."

His mouth brused hers, warm, threatening and addictive. "Because once this ring is on your fingers, you'll never leave me alive."