THE BRIDE HE WAS ORDERED TO KILL

The first time I saw my future husband, he was holding a gun. I should have run. Instead, I walked toward him. The church doors opened slowly, revealing a sea of unfamiliar faces dressed in black, diamonds, and expensive suits. At the end of the aisle stood Damian Cross. My future husband. The man every woman in Vespera feared. And in his right hand was a gun. My heart stopped. For one terrifying second, I thought he was going to shoot me. Then he lowered the weapon beneath his black jacket as if nothing had happened. No one else seemed to notice. No one except me. I tightened my fingers around the bouquet of white roses and forced myself to keep walking. Step. After step. After step. My heels clicked against the marble floor, each sound reminding me that I was walking willingly into a marriage I had never wanted. A marriage arranged by our families. A marriage that was supposed to bring peace between two powerful empires. A marriage to Damian Cross. I had heard enough stories about him to know that he wasn't a man you wanted as an enemy. He was twenty-nine, the head of the Cross organization, and one of the most powerful men in Vespera. People lowered their voices when they said his name. Cold. Ruthless. Unforgiving. Dangerous. Some said Damian had destroyed entire businesses without blinking. Others said men had disappeared after crossing him. But none of those stories prepared me for his eyes. Dark. Emotionless. Fixed entirely on me. As I reached the altar, my father placed my hand in Damian's. His fingers were cold. Not nervous cold. Deadly cold. Damian looked down at our joined hands. Then he looked at me. "You shouldn't have come," he whispered. I stared at him. "What?" His expression didn't change. "I said you shouldn't have come." Before I could answer, the priest cleared his throat. "Shall we begin?" My father smiled proudly. I didn't. Something about Damian's warning crawled beneath my skin. I looked at him again. He was already facing the priest. Perfectly calm. As though he hadn't just told his bride she should have stayed home. The ceremony began. I barely heard a word. My mind was racing. Why had he brought a gun into his wedding? Why had he told me not to come? And why did he look at me like he already knew how my story would end? "Elena Vale?" I realized everyone was looking at me. The priest smiled. "Do you take Damian Cross as your lawful husband?" My throat tightened. I looked at Damian. He didn't smile. Didn't move. Didn't blink. Just watched me. There was something frightening in his silence. Something that made me feel as if I were standing on the edge of a cliff. "I do." The words left my mouth. Damian's jaw tightened. The priest turned to him. "Damian Cross, do you take Elena Vale as your lawful wife?" Silence. A long, uncomfortable silence. Then Damian finally answered. "I do." Applause erupted around us. Music began playing. People smiled. Cameras flashed. Everyone celebrated the union of two powerful families. Everyone except the groom. And the bride. Because while the guests saw a beautiful wedding... I saw a man who looked like he was attending my funeral. --- The reception was worse. I sat beside Damian at the head table while people congratulated us. "Such a beautiful couple." "You two look perfect together." "The Cross and Vale families will be unstoppable." I smiled whenever someone spoke to me. Damian said almost nothing. He barely touched his drink. Then an elderly man approached us. "Damian," he said warmly. "Your father would have been proud." Something changed in Damian's face. Just for a second. His eyes became colder. His fingers tightened around his glass. "My father has nothing to be proud of," he replied. The old man awkwardly stepped away. I watched Damian carefully. There was pain beneath his anger. I didn't understand it. But I remembered something my mother had once told me. Never trust a man who smiles while talking about revenge. Damian didn't even bother smiling. "Are you all right?" I whispered. He turned toward me. "Don't pretend you care." I frowned. "I wasn't pretending." "You don't have to." His voice was quiet, but every word cut. "What exactly did I do to you?" He stared at me. "You were born." My breath caught. Before I could respond, someone called his name. Damian stood. "I'll be back." "Where are you going?" He leaned closer. "Stay here." Then he walked away. I watched him disappear through the doors. Something was terribly wrong. I had known Damian hated my family. Everyone knew there was bad blood between the Crosses and the Vales. But I had never understood why. The feud had started seventeen years ago, long before I was old enough to remember anything. My mother never talked about it. My father always said it was ancient history. But Damian clearly hadn't forgotten. And now I was his wife. --- Hours later, the estate was silent. The Cross mansion was enormous, beautiful, and terrifying. I stood in the bedroom assigned to me, staring at the wedding ring on my finger. A six-carat diamond. Beautiful. Expensive. Heavy. It felt less like a ring and more like a chain. There was a knock. I turned. Damian entered. He had removed his suit jacket, leaving him in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked exhausted. But dangerous. "Where were you?" I asked. "Working." "On our wedding night?" He gave me a cold look. "This marriage is business, Elena." I swallowed. "Then why marry me?" He walked closer. "Because I had no choice." Something about the way he said it made my chest hurt. "I didn't have a choice either." "I know." He walked past me. I turned. "Damian." He stopped. "Why do you hate me?" His back remained toward me. "You really want to know?" "Yes." He slowly turned around. "My family was destroyed seventeen years ago." I said nothing. "Your family had something to do with it." My eyes widened. "That's impossible." "You weren't there." "Neither were you." His eyes darkened. "I was." The room went silent. Damian stepped closer. "Seventeen years ago, my family lost everything. My father died. My mother disappeared. Our name was dragged through the mud." He stopped directly in front of me. "And the Vales walked away untouched." "I don't know anything about that." "I know." "Then why blame me?" His expression became unreadable. "Because sometimes innocent people are born into guilty families." My eyes burned. "So what? You're going to punish me for something my family supposedly did?" He didn't answer. That frightened me more than anything. I stepped backward. "You wouldn't hurt me." A humorless smile touched his lips. "Don't be so sure." He walked toward the door. Then stopped. "One more thing." I looked at him. "Never enter my bedroom." He left. The door slammed shut. I stood there alone. My heart was pounding. I should have listened. I should have gone to sleep. I should have accepted that some doors were better left closed. But curiosity had always been my weakness. And that night, curiosity won. --- It was nearly two in the morning when I found myself standing outside Damian's bedroom. The hallway was dark. I looked around before quietly opening the door. His room smelled faintly of cologne and smoke. Moonlight spilled through the curtains. I took one step inside. Then another. I wasn't looking for anything. At least, that's what I told myself. Then I saw the desk. There were photographs scattered across it. I moved closer. One photograph showed Damian as a little boy standing beside his parents. Another showed the Cross family estate before the fire. Then I saw something that made my blood run cold. A photograph of my father. I picked it up. On the back was a date. Seventeen years ago. My hands began shaking. "What are you doing in here?" I froze. Damian's voice came from behind me. Slowly, I turned. He stood in the doorway. His face was expressionless. But his eyes were terrifying. "I'm sorry," I whispered. He walked toward me. "What did you see?" "Nothing." "Liar." I stepped backward. He reached the desk and took the photograph from my hand. Then his gaze fell on the drawer beside it. For some reason, he didn't close it. Instead, he stared at me. "Leave." I turned. But something inside the open drawer caught my attention. A black metal handle. I stopped. My heart began pounding. I pulled the drawer open. There it was. A gun. Beside it was a single white envelope. My name was written across it. ELENA VALE. I looked at Damian. He didn't move. I opened the envelope with trembling fingers. Inside was one sheet of paper. Only one sentence was written on it. YOU HAVE TWELVE MONTHS TO MAKE HER TRUST YOU. THEN KILL HER. My blood turned cold. I looked up at my husband. Damian was staring directly at me. And for the first time since our wedding... I saw something in his eyes that looked almost like regret.