Her Marriage, My Regret

The marble hallway smelled like smoke and metal. “Aniya, they're here!" Lia's voice cracked as she skidded across the floor, barefoot, clutching a stuffed bear. Aniya bolted upright from the couch, grabbing the pistol tucked under a velvet cushion. Her hands trembled as she chambered a round. “How many?" she asked, voice low, eyes fixed on the staircase. “Too many," Lia whispered. Boots pounded beyond the foyer—three, maybe four men. Silenced shots coughed, followed by a crash of glass. Aniya shoved Lia behind her and raised the gun. “If I say run, you run. Straight to the servants' exit. Got it?" Lia nodded, eyes wide. The door burst open. A man stepped in, tall and silent, his silhouette sharp against the chandelier's glow. His gaze swept the room, settled on Aniya's pistol, and then—on her face. Leonardo. Of course. His tailored coat glistened with rain. No blood on him, not even dust. Just polished calm. Aniya's breath caught. “You?" He stepped forward slowly. “You always had terrible aim. You planning to die tonight trying to protect my enemies' sister?" “She's your sister too," Aniya hissed. He c****d his head. “Step-sister. And no, she isn't." The silence that followed crushed the air. Leonardo raised a hand. The shadows behind him held position. “Come home with me," he said, voice silk over ice. “And the girl walks free." Aniya's heart thundered. “Safe passage?" she asked. “No more bullets?" He smiled without warmth. “Scout's honor." Lia whimpered behind her. Aniya lowered the pistol, slowly. “Let her go first." Leonardo gave a flick of his fingers. One of his men grunted and nudged Lia forward. The girl's lip quivered, but she obeyed, casting one last, terrified look at Aniya before vanishing through the archway. Aniya stepped forward. She was three feet from Leonardo when it happened. A shot cracked—loud, final. Lia's scream cut short. The sound of something soft hitting marble. A sob. Aniya froze. She turned. Lia lay crumpled on the floor, red spreading under her white satin pajamas. She screamed. “Roots," Leonardo murmured. “We burn them." Aniya lunged at him, gun raised, but hands grabbed her arms from behind. Her weapon clattered to the floor. “You promised!" she shrieked. “You said—" “I promised she could walk," Leonardo said coldly. “I never said how far." Her knees buckled. The men held her up like a doll. “You're a monster." Leonardo stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I'm a king. There's a difference." Sirens wailed in the distance—someone must have triggered the silent alarm. Aniya burned the moment into memory: the stench of gun oil, the cold kiss of marble, and Leonardo's face—so utterly calm as a child's life drained behind him. “You'll pay for this." Leonardo leaned in, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. “I already am," he said softly.