Isla tightened her grip on the bouquet of flowers in her hands as the large double doors to the hall swung open. Melodious tones swelled into the air, and several pairs of eyes rested on her.
She took one uncertain step forward… then another… Her white wedding dress was suddenly tighter than usual.
She could feel the start of an anxiety attack niggling at her mind.
Elder Ren waited near the altar, his expression composed while he kept a hand outstretched. Isla placed her trembling fingers in his, forcing herself forward as she counted every breath. The lace sleeve of her dress still bore faint bloodstains, which were a horrifying souvenir from her earlier confrontation with Carina.
She didn't want to remember it. But how could she forget?
The guests blurred into a sea of judgemental and unfamiliar faces. She imagined what they saw: a runaway bride, a scandal wearing a wedding dress. A girl too fragile to stand in the chaos she'd been forced into.
Only weeks ago, she'd been free, her world filled with sketches and canvases, quiet afternoons, and solitude. Until her father decided to force her into marrying Mikael.
Now here she was. Walking toward her groom.
No. Not Mikael.
Her eyes lifted, and the world suddenly looked clearer.
Dominic Argento stood beneath the ceremonial arch, watching her with a gaze that prickled her skin. And just like that, she could breathe again.
Why?
He was her enemy. So, why?
Why did the sight of him make it easier to breathe?
He hadn't looked away since she entered. He silently tracked every move she made while he stood there, rigidly. His aura was still just as overwhelming. His dark hair was tied into a half-ponytail, and the sharp lines of his tailored white tuxedo hugged him like a second skin. He looked like a fallen angel poised for vengeance and, somehow, incredibly breathtaking.
When she reached him, Dominic took her hand. His firm grip was surprisingly warm. Those storm-grey eyes shimmered, catching the light like silver fire.
She took a good look at him, at the man Carina was deeply in love with.
Guilt washing over her at the memory of her tear-stained face. Isla had turned her request down because she had chosen to be selfish. It was the only way she could protect herself.
Tears filled her eyes at the memory of the way she'd pushed Carina away from her, causing her an injury. She'd bled from her head, and Isla had left her there all on her own.
The priest's voice cut through the air: "Do you, Dominic Argento, take Isla Del Cruz as your wife and partner, to love and to hold, for as long as you both shall live?"
Without hesitation, Dominic answered. "I do."
Tears stung Isla's eyes, the final shards of a fantasy breaking in her chest. She had once dreamed of a love story. Of being chosen and cherished. Now she stood there as a pawn in someone else's game.
The priest turned to look at her. "Do you, Isla Del Cruz, take Dominic Argento as your husband and partner for as long as you live?"
Dominic's grip tightened in silent warning. At the moment, he was her saviour, but she had the feeling that she was about to walk into hell. Her father couldn't save her. No one could save her now. Isla was hit with the realization that she was the only one who could truly save herself. Therefore, she needed to be strong.
Her voice trembled, but it didn't break. "I do."
"You may kiss the bride."
He stepped forward, her hand brushing against his solid chest. His heartbeat was steady.
Slowly, they both leaned in, sparks of tension igniting between them. To others this was merely a kiss to seal their marriage. But to her, this could as well be a Kiss of Doom.
His attractive scent wrapped around her, reminding her of the battle she was about to step into.
The crowd roared. But she barely heard them.
Dominic leaned in close, his breath brushing her ear. "Welcome to hell, Mrs. Argento. Enjoy the ride."
She straightened, refusing to flinch. "Why, thank you."
But then, a wave of dizziness slammed into her. She stumbled, and Dominic caught her, one arm wrapping around her waist.
"Your pathetic father's here," he said in a flat voice.
Her eyes widened in confusion. "He… came?"
"He's not here for you," Dominic sneered, his tone dripping with disdain.
Before she could respond, he turned to the crowd, waved casually, and guided her out of the hall with deceptive ease.
Outside, two men approached. Enzo and Casino.
"Take her to the pack house. Don't let her leave," Dominic ordered.
"What's going on?" Isla asked, her voice shaky with fear.
They didn't answer.
Casino grabbed her hand and led her away from Dominic. He was stronger than she'd thought. She couldn't break free from his hold. And no matter how many times she asked him questions, he remained tight-lipped.
Enzo followed closely behind them, and when we got to a small room in the pack house, Casino led her in and walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Panic surged within her, and she ran to the door, pounding her fists against it.
Right then, the sounds of gunfire went off, and Isla flinched, bringing her hands to her ears to block out the terrifying sounds.
...
"Let me out of here!" Isla screamed, banging her fists on the door. The sky outside was starting to darken, and she was still locked in. The windows were sealed from the outside. And the only source of ventilation was the vents high up in the walls.
She began to pace back and forth, tugging at the locks of her hair. She was certain that she would go mad if she stayed in the room for another hour. She needed to know what was going on.
The gunfire from earlier had come to an abrupt halt, and despite her prejudice against her father, she was worried that something had happened to him.
The dead silence of the room was slowly driving her crazy.
In desperation, she tore apart the room until the wreckage mirrored her mind. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the floor, her heart pounding.
Dominic's words echoed in her head, 'Welcome to hell.'
He'd always been mysterious around her, but he'd never been this cruel.
The door creaked open, and Dominic walked in. He was no longer wearing his tuxedo. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and she could smell the metallic smell of blood on him. A sense of dread gripped her as she rose to her feet. He must've killed someone. Was it her father?
"My father...what did you do to him?" She asked, her voice quivering.
Dominic raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
Her knees nearly buckled. "You're a monster."
His expression turned icy. "You're only realizing that now?"
"Where is he?" Isla demanded, her voice cracking.
He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with something feral. "Do you really want to know?"
"Where. Is. He?"
Without warning, he seized her hand and yanked her into the hallway. There was no use fighting him because his strength was effortless and terrifying. Cold wind lashed at her face as he dragged her into the night. She stumbled on stones, barely managing to stay upright.
The tenderness he'd once showed her was gone without a trace.
Had she destroyed it?
"Why are you doing this?" She cried out, her entire body trembling.
He gave her no response.
She tried to pull away, but agony burst through her wrist. She cried out again, and only then did he stop, releasing her with a snarl.
His unbound hair whipped against his face as he stared at her with cold eyes, his jaw tense.
"Where are you taking me?" she whispered, cradling her wrist where a bruise was already forming.
"You wanted to see your father. Shut up and follow me."
Terror curled in her gut, but she followed him either way.
They descended on stone steps leading into a hidden basement. The air was damp and metallic. The deeper they went, the colder it became.
Then she saw it.
Blood.
Pools of it on the ground.
So much blood.
Her heart crashed against her ribs, a cry escaping her lips as her free hand flew to her mouth.