BLOOD OATH BRIDE

HE KNOWS HER NAME

“Elara Dain.”

Ronan Kade didn’t just say her name.

He owned it.

The corridor went deathly still.

Even the guards—trained killers who had seen everything—froze for half a second, as if the sound of her name in his mouth carried something heavier than a threat.

Elara’s blood turned to ice.

He knew her.

Not guessed.

Not assumed.

Knew.

Alessio’s body shifted in front of her, blocking more of her view, his presence turning into something lethal, coiled, ready to snap. “You don’t get to speak her name,” he said, his voice low, controlled—but vibrating with restrained violence.

Ronan smiled.

Slow.

Amused.

“Don’t I?” he asked lightly, tilting his head. “That’s unfortunate. Because I’ve been saying it for a very long time.”

A chill crawled down Elara’s spine.

“What do you want?” Alessio asked.

Ronan’s gaze slid back to her, ignoring the question entirely. “You’ve grown,” he said, as if they were having a private conversation across the distance. “Stronger than I expected.”

Elara swallowed hard, her voice tight but steady. “I don’t know you.”

Ronan chuckled under his breath. “No,” he said softly. “But you will.”

Alessio’s patience snapped.

The shift was instant.

His gun was in his hand before the next breath, aimed directly at Ronan’s head. “You’re walking into my tower, killing my men, and speaking to my wife as if you belong here,” he said. “You’ve lost whatever instinct kept you alive this long.”

Ronan didn’t flinch.

If anything, his smile widened.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Shoot.”

A pause.

A heartbeat stretched thin.

“Do it,” Ronan added, softer now. “And watch how fast your world burns.”

Something in his tone wasn’t a bluff.

Alessio knew it.

Elara could feel it in the way his grip tightened on the weapon—but he didn’t pull the trigger.

Not yet.

Ronan’s eyes flickered with satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”

Silence fell again, thicker this time, suffocating.

Then—

Ronan took a step forward.

Every gun in the corridor lifted instantly.

“Another step,” one of Alessio’s men warned, voice sharp.

Ronan stopped—but his attention never left Elara.

“You’ve been lied to,” he said.

Her chest tightened.

Alessio’s voice cut in like a blade. “Don’t listen to him.”

Ronan ignored him. “Everything you think you know about your father—about his death—it’s wrong.”

The words hit harder than any bullet.

Elara’s breath caught. “Stop.”

But Ronan continued, his voice quieter now, more deliberate. “He wasn’t a traitor.”

Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.

Alessio moved slightly, angling himself to block her line of sight completely. “Enough.”

But it was too late.

The damage was already done.

“Elara,” Ronan said softly, almost gently. “Ask him.”

A pause.

“Ask your husband whregistersersersersersersedregistersersersersersersrder.”

The world tilted.

Elara’s gaze snapped to Alessio.

For the first time—

She saw it.

Not guilt.

Not exactly.

But something close enough to make her stomach drop.

“You’re lying,” she said, but the certainty was gone from her voice.

Ronan’s smile faded into something colder. “I never lie about things that matter.”

Alessio stepped forward now, placing himself fully between them. “You’re done here.”

Ronan exhaled slowly, almost bored. “Am I?”

A beat.

Then—

A gunshot exploded through the corridor.

Not from Alessio.

From behind.

Chaos erupted instantly.

Another breach.

Men shouted. Bullets tore through the air. Lights flickered as the hallway descended into controlled violence.

“Elara, move!” Alessio snapped, grabbing her arm and pulling her back just as another shot struck the wall where she had been standing.

Her pulse roared in her ears as he pushed her behind him, shielding her completely now, his body a barrier between her and the storm.

“Get her out!” he barked to his men.

But Elara didn’t move.

She couldn’t.

Because her mind was stuck on one thing.

Ask your husband who signed the order.

“No,” she said, pulling against Alessio’s grip.

He didn’t let go.

“Now is not the time,” he said sharply.

“When is it?” she shot back. “When I’m dead?”

Another gunshot cracked through the space.

Closer.

Too close.

Ronan’s voice cut through the chaos again, calm in the storm. “You see?” he called out. “This is the world he dragged you into.”

Alessio’s head snapped toward him. “And you think yours is better?”

Ronan shrugged slightly. “At least I don’t pretend to be the hero.”

Something dark flickered in Alessio’s eyes.

Then—

“Take her!” he ordered.

Two men moved toward Elara.

She stepped back instantly. “Don’t touch me.”

“Move!” Alessio snapped.

“No!” she fired back. “Not until you answer me.”

Another beat.

Another shot.

Time was running out.

Alessio’s jaw clenched. “You want answers?” he said. “Then survive long enough to hear them.”

The words hit like a slap.

Before she could respond, he pushed her toward the men. “Go.”

This time—

They didn’t hesitate.

They grabbed her arms, pulling her back down the corridor as the gunfire intensified.

“Elara!” Ronan’s voice rang out behind her.

She twisted, trying to look back—

And saw him.

Still standing there.

Still watching her.

Still smiling.

“Remember what I said!” he called out.

“Everything you’ve been told—”

A burst of gunfire cut him off.

She couldn’t hear the rest.

Because the men were dragging her away.

---

They didn’t stop until they reached a reinforced steel door at the far end of the east wing.

One of them punched in a code.

The door slid open.

“Inside,” he ordered.

Elara pulled free just enough to glare at him. “What is this?”

“Safe room.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“You’re not deciding.”

Before she could argue, they pushed her inside.

The door slammed shut behind her with a heavy, final click.

Silence.

Absolute.

The room was small, windowless, and dimly lit. A single table. A chair. No exits except the one that had just sealed.

Elara’s breathing came in fast, uneven bursts.

Her mind raced.

Her father.

The execution.

Ronan’s words.

Ask your husband who signed the order.

Her chest tightened painfully.

“No,” she whispered.

It didn’t make sense.

It couldn’t.

But—

Alessio’s face.

That flicker.

That hesitation.

Her stomach twisted.

“Damn it,” she muttered, pacing the small space.

She needed answers.

She needed the truth.

And she wasn’t going to sit in a locked room waiting for someone else to decide when she deserved it.

Her gaze swept the room quickly.

Table.

Chair.

Metal walls.

Door.

No obvious way out.

But—

Her eyes narrowed.

There.

A vent.

Small.

High up.

Barely noticeable.

But enough.

A slow, dangerous determination settled in her chest.

“They think I’ll just wait,” she murmured.

A humourless smile touched her lips.

“They don’t know me.”

She dragged the chair across the floor, the sound echoing sharply in the confined space. Climbing onto it, she reached for the vent, fingers brushing against the metal edge.

It was loose.

Not secure.

Hope sparked—sharp and reckless.

She pushed.

It shifted.

Just enough.

Her pulse quickened.

“Good,” she whispered.

With a bit more force, the vent cover came free, clattering softly onto the floor.

She froze.

Listening.

Nothing.

No alarms.

No footsteps.

Carefully, she pulled herself up, squeezing into the narrow space. Dust and darkness closed around her, the air tight and stale.

But she didn’t stop.

She crawled forward.

Because one thing was clear now—

She wasn’t safe.

Not in that room.

Not in this tower.

Not with Alessio.

Not with Ronan.

And definitely—

Not with the truth closing in.

---

Somewhere below, the gunfire finally began to fade.

The chaos was settling.

But the damage—

That was just the beginning.

Because inside the walls of the Obsidian Tower, secrets were shifting.

Loyalties were cracking.

And Elara Dain—

The girl who was supposed to be a pawn—

Was already slipping out of control.

---

As she crawled deeper into the vent system, a faint sound reached her ears.

Voices.

Muffled.

Below.

She slowed, pressing closer to the metal.

Listening.

“…she wasn’t supposed to survive this long,” a voice said.

Elara’s breath stilled.

Another voice responded. Lower. Colder.

“That’s because you underestimated her.”

A pause.

Then—

“She’s her father’s daughter.”

Her heart skipped.

“I don’t care who she is,” the first voice snapped. “Orders are orders.”

Silence.

Then the second voice again.

“You’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

A beat.

Something heavy in the air.

“Alessio doesn’t know the full truth either.”

Elara’s pulse thundered.

What truth?

“What happens when he finds out?” the first voice asked.

A low, humourless laugh.

“He won’t,” the second voice said.

A pause.

Then—

“Because by the time he does—”

Elara leaned closer, straining to hear.

“—she’ll already be dead.”

Her blood ran cold.

The vent creaked slightly under her weight.

Too loud.

The voices below went silent.

Completely.

A second passed.

Then—

“Did you hear that?”

Elara’s heart slammed violently against her ribs.

Footste

ps.

Moving.

Closer.

Her breath caught.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Because in that moment—

She realised something terrifying.

She hadn’t escaped.

She had walked straight into something far worse.

And now—

They were coming.