Chapter 2 The Wedding of the Damned

Alina Moretti had imagined her wedding once-soft candlelight, the scent of fresh roses, the man she loved waiting for her at the altar with warmth in his eyes.

She had never imagined this.

A marriage without love. A husband without a soul. A vow made in blood, not devotion.

The Valenti estate was cold, the grand marble hall empty except for a priest, two witnesses, and the monster she was about to marry.

Dante stood at the altar, dark and commanding in his tailored black suit. He looked completely at ease, as if this wasn't a forced wedding but a mere business transaction. His gaze met hers, unreadable, but she could feel the weight of his hatred pressing against her skin like a blade.

Alina wanted to run. But where would she go?

Her father had already disappeared after sealing the deal. And her brother-her sweet, innocent brother-was still in Dante's grasp.

She had no choice.

The priest cleared his throat as she stopped beside Dante. "Shall we begin?"

Dante didn't answer. He simply held out his hand. A silent demand.

Alina hesitated for a second before placing her shaking fingers in his. His grip tightened-not gently, not reassuringly. Just possessive.

The ceremony was quick. Emotionless.

"Do you, Dante Valenti, take Alina Moretti to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." His voice was steady, controlled.

"And do you, Alina Moretti, take Dante Valenti to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Her throat felt like sandpaper. The words tasted like poison.

"I do," she whispered.

Dante reached for her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Louder, wife."

Alina swallowed her fear and repeated, "I do."

A slow, dark smirk curled on his lips.

"Good girl."

The moment the priest pronounced them husband and wife, Dante didn't waste a second. He gripped her waist and kissedher.

No, not a kiss.

A claim.

His lips crushed against hers, rough and punishing. His fingers dug into her hips, pressing her body against his as if reminding her exactly who she belonged to now.

Alina tried not to tremble, tried not to show weakness. But she knew-everyone in this room knew-she had just sold her soul to the devil.

When he finally pulled back, his lips brushed against her ear, his voice dark and laced with cruel amusement.

"Welcome to hell, Mrs. Valenti."