The Devil's Blood Bride

Chapter 2

The training room smelled of sweat, leather, and polished steel. Mats covered the floor, mirrors lined one wall, and racks of weapons gleamed under harsh lights. I wore tight black workout gear provided by silent staff. Dante faced me in a fitted black tee and shorts, every inch of him radiating controlled power.

“Rule one,” he said, circling me slowly. “Never hesitate. Your enemy won’t.”

He demonstrated a knife disarm, movements fluid and deadly. Then he handed me the blade. “Attack.”

I lunged, fueled by days of pent-up fury. He sidestepped easily, correcting my grip and stance with firm hands on my hips and wrist. “Predict me. Use your intelligence.”

Sweat stung my eyes. We repeated the drill again and again. On the tenth attempt, I feinted left and slashed. The blade caught his forearm. Blood welled immediately.

I froze, horror mixing with triumph. “I—”

Dante didn’t flinch. He took the knife, wiped the blood on his shirt, and used a small engraving tool from his pocket. When he returned it, two words glinted on the handle: Try again.

My breath caught. “You’re not angry?”

“Angry?” A rare, genuine smile ghosted his lips, making him look almost human. “I’m impressed. Most trained men couldn’t draw blood on me. Keep that fire, Seraphina. You’ll need it.”

The session continued until my muscles screamed. Every correction brought his body against mine, chest to back, hands guiding, breath on my neck. Tension coiled tight and dangerous between us. I hated how aware I was of him. The ruthless mafia boss who had upended my life was slowly becoming the only constant in my chaos.

Later, alone in my room, I studied the engraved knife. A gift? A challenge? Both?

That night I tested the perimeter. Scaling the garden wall under cover of darkness felt like victory until alarms blared. Guards swarmed. Dante met me at the gates, jaw clenched, eyes stormy.

He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour despite my curses and struggles. “Running gets you killed.”

“Better than being your prisoner!”

Back in my room, he set me down but lingered. The air thickened. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower. My heart hammered against my ribs.

My breath caught.

He exhaled sharply, stepping back. “Sleep. You’re safer than you know.”

The door locked. I slid down the wall, knife in hand, mind spinning. Dante Vescari was ice and fire. Cold to the world, but with me… something else entirely. Obsessive, protective, dangerous.

And I was starting to fear I might not hate him as much as I should.

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I spent the entire morning testing the limits of my luxurious prison.

The estate was a masterpiece of modern fortress design, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the crashing ocean, marble floors that echoed my footsteps like a warning, and enough security cameras to make Big Brother blush. Every door I tried was locked. Every hallway ended with a silent guard who wouldn’t meet my eyes but wouldn’t let me pass either.

My ribs still throbbed from last night’s attack, but the bandage Dante had carefully wrapped around me felt like a brand. A reminder that the devil himself had touched my skin.

I needed answers.

The staff moved like ghosts, efficient, well-trained, and terrifyingly loyal. I cornered a young maid named Elena while she was changing the linens in one of the guest rooms.

“Please,” I said, keeping my voice low and urgent. “Just tell me who Dante really is. What happened to my father? Why does he have a coffin with my name on it?”

Elena’s hands trembled as she smoothed the silk sheet. “Miss Vale, I can’t… He’ll know.”

“He already knows everything,” I snapped, my sarcasm slipping into desperation. “I just want the truth. Was my father working with him?”

She glanced toward the hallway camera, then whispered so softly I barely heard it, “Mr. Vescari has protected you for years. Your father made a deal long ago. Blood for blood. That’s all I know.”

Before I could press her further, a deep voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Elena. Leave us.”

Dante stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed entirely on me. He wore a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, exposing those powerful forearms and the edge of a tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric. The maid fled without another word.

“You’re interrogating my staff now?” His tone was deceptively calm, but the intensity behind it made my pulse spike.

“I’m surviving,” I shot back, lifting my chin. “Something you seem determined to prevent me from doing on my own terms.”

He stepped into the room, closing the distance slowly. The air grew thicker with every step. “You think you can trust them more than me?”

“I don’t trust you at all.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Good. Trust will come later. When you’ve earned it.”

He watched me obsessively for the rest of the day. No matter where I went, the library, the kitchen, the sun room overlooking the cliffs, I felt his presence. Sometimes he was in the same room, pretending to read reports while his gaze burned into me. Other times I caught glimpses of him on security feeds or through half-open doors. It should have felt invasive. Instead, it felt… charged. Like he was studying every movement, every sarcastic comment I muttered under my breath, every time I traced the engraved words Try Again on the knife I now carried hidden in my waistband.

By late afternoon, I was restless and furious. I had changed into soft black leggings and a loose sweater, but the luxurious clothes only reminded me how trapped I was.

The doorbell, if a fortress like this even had something so mundane, rang.

I followed the sound instinctively and froze at the top of the grand staircase.

A woman stood in the foyer like she owned it. Tall, elegant, with sleek dark hair cascading down her back and legs that seemed endless in her designer heels. She wore a blood-red dress that hugged every curve. Bianca Moretti.

Adrian’s sister.

My stomach twisted with a sharp, unwelcome emotion I refused to name as jealousy.

Dante greeted her with a nod, but his body language stayed guarded. “Bianca. You came quickly.”

“I always do when you call,” she purred, then her sharp eyes lifted and locked on me. A slow, predatory smile spread across her face. “So this is the famous blood bride causing chaos across the city.”

I descended the stairs slowly, refusing to shrink. “And you are?”

“Bianca Moretti.” She extended a perfectly manicured hand. “The woman whose brother you were supposed to marry before Dante painted the cathedral with his blood.”

The words hit like a slap. I didn’t take her hand. “My condolences.”

She laughed, low and throaty. “Don’t bother. Adrian was a fool. But you…” Her gaze raked over me. “You’re far more interesting than I expected.”

Dante’s hand settled possessively on my lower back. The touch burned through the fabric. “Seraphina is under my protection. We have business to discuss.”

The three of us moved to the formal sitting room. Bianca moved with the confidence of someone who had navigated this world for years. She and Dante discussed alliances, shifting power after the cathedral m******e, and threats from other families. I sat silently at first, listening, absorbing.

But when Bianca leaned forward and placed her hand on Dante’s knee while making a point about the Moretti remnants, something ugly flared in my chest.

I hated that it bothered me. I hated him. So why did the sight of another woman touching him make my blood boil?

“Problem, little bride?” Bianca asked sweetly, noticing my glare.

“None at all,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just wondering how many women Dante keeps on speed dial for ‘business.’”

The room went still.

Dante’s eyes snapped to mine, dark and intense. Bianca laughed again, but there was an edge to it now.

After she left, with a parting promise to return soon, Dante cornered me in the hallway.

“You’re jealous.” It wasn’t a question.

I scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I hate you, remember?”

He stepped closer until my back hit the wall. His hand came up beside my head, caging me without touching. The scent of him, gunpowder, cedar, and something darker, filled my lungs. Heat rolled off his body.

“You can hate me all you want, Seraphina,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “But your eyes tell a different story when another woman gets too close.”

My breath hitched. Our faces were inches apart. I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, the faint scar along his jaw. The tension between us crackled like live wires.

“I’m not one of your possessions,” I whispered fiercely.

“No,” he agreed, his gaze dropping to my lips. “You’re something far more dangerous.”

For one electric second, I thought he might kiss me. My body betrayed me, leaning in, heart hammering.

Then he pulled back, jaw tight, as if exercising iron control.

“Stay out of trouble,” he said, voice strained, before turning and walking away.

I stayed against the wall for a long moment, breathing hard. My legs felt weak.

Later that night, while searching the study for anything useful, I found it.

Hidden behind a false panel in my father’s old briefcase (which Dante had somehow retrieved), was a small encrypted USB drive. The label, written in my father’s familiar handwriting, read: For Seraphina — If I Fall.

My hands shook as I plugged it into the secure laptop Dante had given me.

The file opened partially. Rows of numbers, coded transactions, names of officials, rival families, and something called “The Vale Ledger.”

This was it. The key my father had died protecting.

I stared at the screen, heart racing. Whatever was on this drive could either destroy Dante’s empire… or save us both.

The real war had just begun.