Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“When the ring is on your hand, you’re mine. Completely,” I said, my voice steady, unshaken. “And what’s mine stays protected. No one touches you. No one crosses you without consequences.” I inhaled her scent again. “I won’t lift my hand to you. Won’t be cruel or ever hurt you.”
Lucia held my gaze as she took that in, and I saw the shift again, deeper this time, something that wasn’t fear but wasn’t comfort, either. She was trying to see if I was telling the truth, if I was like the other men that ran in our world.
The silence that followed was heavier, charged, and carried something neither of us said out loud. Lucia wasn’t meek, and she wasn’t naive. I knew she wasn’t going to break the second things got difficult—and they most definitely fucking would. That made our pending marriage easier and a hell of a lot more dangerous at the same time.
I stepped back then, finally putting space between us. Without another word, I turned toward the door, reaching for the handle but pausing and looking back at her. She stood exactly where I left her, watching me, still holding that same steady control she’d walked in with the first time we met.
As I stepped out into the hall and let the door close behind me, the weight of what my future held settled in deeper than before.
This wasn’t just an arrangement anymore.
Whatever this turned into, I was going to make sure Lucia knew how she was irrevocably mine.
Chapter Eight
Lucia
The wedding wasn’t meant to feel romantic, and no one in that room expected it to be.
It was planned for something else entirely, something heavier than vows or celebration, and every detail reflected that from the moment I stepped inside.
The church was filled beyond capacity, not with guests in the traditional sense but with men and women who carried power in the way they stood, watched, and with the quiet understanding that this wasn’t just a union between two people.
It was an alignment between families and a statement made in front of those who mattered. The weight of it pressed in from every direction.
Everything at the venue was excessive, from the marble floors polished to a sheen, to the gold threaded into the smallest details. It was the kind of wealth that didn’t need to be announced because it was clear where it came from.
The blood of others.
As nervous as I was, I was proud of myself for not letting it show outwardly.
The air held a different kind of tension, something that was sharp with anticipation and expectation. This wasn’t my love story about to unfold. This was the pathway to hell itself, and the devil was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
The reception hall was overwhelming in the kind of way that had nothing to do with size and everything to do with money. Crystal chandeliers stretched across the ceiling in long rows, each one dripping in light that reflected off the wealth.
The tables were dressed in silk and fine linens, centerpieces overflowing with flowers that had been flown in, their scent mixing with expensive perfume and aged liquor.
Servers moved through the room in silence, carrying trays of champagne and food that most people wouldn’t even recognize. Every detail was planned, and simply perfect.
No expense was spared. My family wanted everyone to know exactly how much wealth they had. This was what power looked like when it didn’t need to hide.
I stood beside Alexei in the middle of it all, aware of every glance that lingered too long, every quiet conversation that shifted when we moved past, and every calculated look that measured what our union meant.
Or maybe it was because I had just been married off to The Butcher himself?
But none of that held my focus for long, not when Alexei stayed at my side like he belonged there, like I did, too, now whether I wanted to admit it or not.
His gaze kept drifting back to me, dark and unrelenting, as if the entire room full of power and wealth was nothing compared to the sight of me beside him.
His hand rested at the small of my back, firm, steadfast, and every time someone stepped too close, it shifted just slightly, tightening, reminding me and everyone else exactly where I stood. It made a statement that wasn’t subtle if you knew what to look for, and in this room, everyone did. Mine.
The word didn’t need to be spoken. It was already understood.
The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my dress, a silent claim that made my pulse quicken every time his fingers flexed possessively against my spine.
He leaned into me at one point, his mouth brushing close enough to my ear that I felt his breath before I heard his voice. “Stay close.” The command was quiet, measured, but it wasn’t something I could ignore even if I wanted to.