THE ENTWINED SERIES ( Bound by desire, reuined by Love)

Book 1: Blood & Vows The gun pressed against the back of her skull was still warm. Isabella Romano kept her hands flat on the cold marble of the altar, her fingers splayed, her breath slow and measured even as the barrel dug harder into her skin. The church was empty except for the three men who had dragged her there and the one standing in front of her like he already owned the air she breathed. Dante Ravidash; he looked like sin carved into a man. His black shirt was open at the throat, with his dark hair pushed back. His eyes were the color of burned whiskey. He had a thin scar cut through his left eyebrow. He hadn't spoken since they forced her to her knees. He just watched her, calm, bored, as if dragging the daughter of his greatest enemy into a church at gunpoint was just another Tuesday. “Stand up,” he said. The man behind her hauled her up by the hair. Isabella's scalp burned, but she didn't make a sound. She met Dante's gaze, refusing to look away. “My father will kill you for this.” His mouth curved, slow and humorless. “Your father is the one who offered you.” The words landed like a blade between her ribs. She had known the families were negotiating and peace required blood. But what she didn't know was that that blood would be hers. Soon, a priest stepped out of the shadows near the confessional, looking all pale and sweating, clutching unto a Bible like it might protect him. Dante didn't look at him, his eyes stayed locked on Isabella. “Say the words,” he ordered the priest. “I... Signor Vescari, this is highly irregular...” Dante finally turned his head. The temperature in the church seemed to drop ten degrees. “Say. The. Words.” The priest's voice shook as he began the ceremony. Isabella's pulse hammered in her throat. She could smell incense, gun oil and the faint trace of Dante's cologne. It had a dark and expensive fragrance to it. Which she hated that she noticed. Just when the priest asked if she had taken this man, the barrel of the gun kissed the base of her skull again. She looked at Dante, who was already watching her. His expression was unreadable, yet he had an absolute lust in his eyes. As if he had already decided she was his, the second she walked into the room, and the rest of that was just paperwork. “I do,” she forced the words out through clenched teeth. “I do.” Dante's voice was quieter and rougher. The priest barely finished the final blessing before Dante stepped forward, gripped her jaw with one hand, and kissed her. It wasn't soft or romantic. Just deliberate and Isabella hated how quickly anger burned through her fear. She refused to open her mouth or give him anything. His thumb dragged across her lower lip when he finally pulled back, smearing the lipstick she had put on that morning for a completely different life. Her stomach twisted with fury. “Wife,” he said, almost to himself. Then he looked at the man still holding the gun to her head. “Get the car.” The man hurriedly obeyed, leaving the pulpit. In about a minute, he returned. “We're leaving.” Isabella's heart slammed against her ribs as Dante's hand closed around her wrist, not gentle, or cruel, just in absolute ownership. She yanked once, hard but his grip didn't even loosen. Isabella finally caught one last glimpse of the altar as he pulled her down the aisle toward the open church doors. A single black envelope sat where the Bible should have been. Yet, no one else seemed to notice it. But the wax seal on the front was stamped with a symbol she had only seen once before in her father's private study, locked inside a drawer he never allowed her to open. There was a circular mark of interlocking thorns around a single unblinking eye. Her father had gone pale the day she asked about it. And now, the same seal was waiting for her on her wedding altar. The network had already begun to move and she had just been delivered.