Empire of Revenge

Chapter - Seven

Serafine — POV

For a split second, it looked like he might shoot me.

The man behind him dropped. The one behind me hit the ground. Silence settled over us for a single beat. His blue eyes found mine, something unreadable flickering in them.

"You saved my life," Zavier said, raising a brow. "But for a split second, you thought about killing me, didn't you?"

"Tempting," I hissed. "But I care about Kael's well-being."

He shook his head.

"You're thinking with your head instead of your emotions," he mocked. "Bet you could've done it, though."

"Don't get cocky," I said. "If anyone's killing you, it's me."

"Weren't you worried I'd kill you first?"

"I knew you wouldn't," I said coldly. "You still need me as your wife. For whatever twisted reason."

His expression darkened.

"When the time comes, I'll have to kill you," he murmured.

"We'll see who gets there first," I shot back.

Another shot rang out. Zavier grabbed me, yanking me hard against him and turning my body just as a bullet whipped past.

"We're even, princess." He paused. "Actually no. I just saved you. You owe me now."

I shoved him off. Another gunman was already lining up a shot on Zavier. I put a bullet in him before he got the chance.

"Now we're even, asshole," I hissed.

More guards flooded in. Ventura men locking the place down, taking out the last of the attackers. The fight was over. The remaining men were rounded up, backup had arrived just in time, and I was still breathing hard from the chaos of it all.

Then I felt it. A sharp sting along my upper arm. I glanced down at a grazed wound, small but bleeding, already soaking into the white fabric of my dress.

Great.

"Now that the wedding's over," Zavier said, his tone dripping with mockery, "Mrs. Ventura."

"Don't call me that," I hissed.

He ignored me entirely.

"Get inside. Tonight is our wedding reception."

"I'm not celebrating anything," I said. "I have no interest in meeting more unhinged people."

"Sir, the perimeter is secure," Madison said, stepping forward. "Your family and guests will be arriving shortly. Should we proceed with the reception?"

"Yes," Zavier replied without hesitation. "We're going ahead."

Of course we were. I pressed my lips together, irritation simmering just beneath my skin.

"You're bleeding," Madison said, her voice tightening with concern.

"It's just a scratch," I replied. "I'm fine."

"Let me take you to our room," Zavier said and gripped my arm directly over the wound. Deliberately. Pain shot through me, sharp and hot. I flinched but kept my expression flat, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

"That's not my room," I said.

"We're married now," he replied, pushing the door open. "You'll be sharing a room with me."

The room is wrapped in luxury-designed walls and ceilings; a king-sized bed is pristine and untouched, Italian furnishings are present, and flowers are arranged as though this were some romantic honeymoon suite. It made my stomach turn.

"I'm not staying in the same room as you," I snapped.

"Scared I might hurt you, princess?" he mocked.

"You forced me into this marriage," I said sharply. "I am not sharing a bed with you. I'd sleep outside on the grounds before I spent a night beside you."

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual," he said, his voice dropping cold. I didn't miss the hatred underneath them.

"Don't forget you killed my father."

I held his gaze. Didn't flinch.

"This is all an act," he continued, stepping closer. "For my grandfather. And if it falls apart—"

He leaned in, his voice low against my ear.

"You and Kael both die the moment I tell him the truth about how his son really died."

I exhaled sharply, anger burning through my chest.

"Let's patch that up," he said, nodding toward my arm.

"I can do it myself." I pulled away and grabbed the medical kit.

"Leave me alone," I snapped.

He didn't. Instead, he peeled off his coat, then his shirt, unbothered, like none of this touched him.

I turned my focus to my arm, dabbing alcohol into the wound, jaw tight against the sting. But I could feel his eyes on me. When I looked up, we were staring at each other again, nothing between us but tension and hate pulled taut like a wire.

His body was all sharp lines and old damage. Scars were carved across his hands and his chest. No tattoos. Just history written into skin. I stood and found him too close. The door opened.

Jero walked in, a smirk already on his face. "Looks like I interrupted something romantic."

I shot him a look and walked straight past, heading for the bathroom to clean the wound properly. I ran the water and leaned close to the door, listening.

Muffled voices. Low and sharp.

"Are you out of your mind?" Jero hissed. "You married the enemy's daughter."

"It's the only way to get to my grandfather and to Falcone," Zavier replied.

Falcone.

The other family. The one that had stood against Ventura the same way mine once had.

"Marrying into Falcone would've been the smarter play."

"I know what I'm doing, Jero."

"Do you?"

"Don't question me. You know I can pull this off."

Jero exhaled slowly.

"Fine. I'm with you. But tonight the Falcone head and his daughter will both be at the party. You need to sell this."

His tone hardened.

"If anyone got footage of that fight at the wedding, they'll know this is a long game, and they'll kill you, me, and your contracted wife without blinking."

"I'll handle her," Zavier said evenly. "You handle the party."

I moved quickly, rinsed off, and stepped back out in a bathrobe. Zavier was still there. His back was to me, and I could see it fully now: scarred, layered with old damage. Deep lines crossing over each other, overlapping like chapters of something brutal.

Too similar to mine.

"If you're done staring, princess," he said, turning to face me, "we need to talk business."

"What is it?"

"I suggest you play your role as my wife seriously."

I narrowed my eyes. "What does that mean? Are you asking me to kiss you in public?"

"If necessary." His tone didn't shift.

"Not happening."

"Be rational, assassin princess." His voice dropped, cold enough to root me in place. "You want Kael alive. You want to keep your head on your shoulders."

"And I still plan on taking yours," I shot back. That gave him pause. Just for a second. Something flickered behind his eyes.

"I know why you want revenge," he said quietly. "But what if I told you there's more to it?"

I went still.

"Don't try to manipulate me," I said.

"I'm not." His gaze didn't waver. "Did Kael or anyone at the academy ever tell you the full story?"

A crack of doubt slipped through before I could stop it. There had always been gaps. Questions that went unanswered. Leads that dissolved into nothing.

"What if you're lying?"

"I'm not. You can take the risk and find out."

It felt like a trap. Every instinct told me so. But Kael's face flashed in my mind. The unanswered questions. The holes in the story I'd spent years chasing.

"Fine," I said. "But if you're lying, I won't just refuse to play your wife. I'll make sure you regret it."

"Fair enough." He stepped closer. I stepped back. His eyes stayed locked on mine, but something had shifted. Something that wasn't predatory. Not this time. Something I'd only ever seen between people who actually meant something to each other.

My back pressed against the wall. His eyes flicker with desire.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"It seems," he mumbled, "you don't understand emotions."

"I understand them fine," I replied, keeping my voice flat. "I just wonder who you're picturing when you look at me like that."

His expression shifted and tightened, something darker breaking through the surface. Anger. And beneath it, something that looked almost like pain.

He stepped back quickly. Like I was something he couldn't stand to be near.

He turned and walked into the shower without another word.

So he had a past. Something that still had teeth.

He had leverage over me—too much of it. It was time to even the score. I needed something of my own for this game.