The Devil's Contract Bride

Blood or Love

Vittorio’s gun was aimed at her chest. Steady. Smiling.

“Welcome home, sister,” he said again. Like it was a gift.

Adriana’s back hit the tunnel wall. Concrete cold through her shirt. She could hear gunfire behind her. Dante and their father. Brothers killing brothers.

“Don’t call me that,” she whispered. “I’m not your sister.”

Vittorio tilted his head. “DNA doesn’t care what you want, Adriana. Moretti blood runs in your veins. Same as me. Same as Dante.” He stepped closer. “That’s why Antonio sold you to me at 12. Blood pays blood.”

Footsteps. Dante burst through the doorway behind her. Gun raised. Chest heaving. Blood on his knuckles.

“Let her go,” Dante growled. He moved sideways, putting himself between them. “Or I put a bullet in your brain before you blink.”

Vittorio didn’t look at him. Kept his eyes on Adriana. “She has to choose, brother. Family or you. Blood or love. Can’t have both.”

Dante’s jaw ticked. “She already chose. She chose me.”

“No,” Vittorio said. “She tore the paper. She hasn’t chosen yet.” He lowered the gun an inch. Not enough. “Adriana. Come with me. We run. Start new. No Dante. No empire. Just us. Brother and sister. Like we were meant to be.”

Adriana’s heart pounded so hard she thought it would break. She looked at Dante. His eyes were black. Desperate. Begging without words.

She looked at Vittorio. His eyes were empty. Dead.

“I’m not a Moretti,” she said. Voice shaking but clear. “And I’m not a Russo. I’m Adriana. Just Adriana.”

Vittorio’s smile vanished. “Wrong answer.”

He raised the gun.

Dante fired first.

The bullet tore through Vittorio’s shoulder. He spun, cursing, and fired back. The shot hit the wall inches from Adriana’s head. Concrete dust sprayed her face.

“Run!” Dante yelled.

Adriana didn’t run. She grabbed the gun from the floor. The one she’d dropped earlier. Her hands were steady now.

She aimed at Vittorio.

“Don’t,” Dante said. Not an order. A plea. “I don’t want you to have that on you.”

Vittorio laughed, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “She’s a Moretti, Dante. She was born for this.”

Adriana pulled the trigger.

Click. Empty.

Vittorio’s laugh turned cruel. “No bullets, sister. I took them out. You think I’d let you kill me?”

He lunged. Grabbed her wrist. Twisted. The gun fell.

Dante was there in one second. He slammed Vittorio into the wall. Fist to jaw. Bone cracked.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you slow,” Dante snarled. He punched him again. And again. Rage poured out of him like blood.

Vittorio spat blood and smiled. “Can’t kill me, brother. If I die, the video goes live. ‘Dante Moretti marries sister’. Your empire burns.”

Dante’s fist stopped mid-air. His whole body went still.

Adriana saw it. The moment he realized Vittorio was right.

Dante lowered his hand. Slow. He stepped back. Chest heaving. Eyes wild.

“Let her go,” Dante said. Voice dead. “Take the empire. Take the money. Take everything. Just let her go.”

Vittorio grinned. Blood on his teeth. “Generous. But I want more.” He grabbed Adriana’s arm and yanked her against his chest. Gun back at her temple. “I want her to say it. Say she chooses me. Say she’s a Moretti.”

Adriana stared at Dante. He was shaking. Hands fisted at his sides like he was holding himself back from murder.

“Say it,” Vittorio hissed in her ear. “Say you’re mine, Adriana.”

Adriana closed her eyes. One second. Two.

Then she opened them and looked straight at Dante.

“I’m not yours,” she said. “And I’m not his. I’m mine.”

Vittorio’s grip tightened. “Wrong—”

The lights went out.

Total darkness.

Gunfire. One shot. Two. A body hit the floor.

Then silence.

A match flared. Dante’s face appeared in the orange light. Blood on his cheek. Gun smoking in his hand.

Vittorio was on the floor. Gasping. A bullet in his chest. Not dead. Not yet.

“You missed his heart,” Adriana whispered.

Dante didn’t look at Vittorio. He looked at her. “I never miss when it matters.”

He crouched and pressed his hand over Vittorio’s wound. Hard. Stopping the blood.

Vittorio coughed. “You... won’t... let me die. Video... goes live...”

“I know,” Dante said. His voice was flat. Empty. “That’s why you’re going to live. Long enough to delete it.”

He pulled a phone from Vittorio’s pocket. Thumbed it open with Vittorio’s bleeding finger. Face ID unlocked it.

Dante found the video. Deleted it. Then smashed the phone under his boot.

Vittorio’s eyes went wide. “You... can’t...”

“I just did,” Dante said. He stood and lifted Adriana into his arms. “He’s alive. He can talk. He can confess. He can tell the world the Moretti bloodline is poison.”

Adriana wrapped her arms around his neck. She was shaking. “You chose me. Over the empire. Over everything.”

Dante carried her down the tunnel. Away from Vittorio’s gasping. Away from their father’s laughter.

“I’d burn the world for you,” Dante said. Quiet. Truth. “Empire means nothing if you’re not in it.”

They reached the car. Luca was waiting. Engine running.

Dante set her down and turned to her. He cupped her face with both hands. His thumbs brushed her cheeks.

“One last thing,” he said. “The pregnancy text. It was a lie. Vittorio sent it to break you. To break me. There’s no baby, Adriana. There’s only you.”

Adriana exhaled. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. Relief hit her like a wave.

Dante kissed her forehead. Then her temple. Then her mouth. Slow. Claiming. Like he was reminding himself she was real.

“I’m not your brother,” he murmured against her lips. “DNA test was fake. Vittorio made it. Your father confirmed it 10 minutes ago. You’re a Russo. Not a Moretti.”

Adriana pulled back. “Then why did he say—”

“Because he’s a monster,” Dante said. “And monsters lie. But I don’t. Not to you. Not anymore.”

Sirens wailed in the distance. Police. Ambulances.

Luca opened the car door. “Boss, we have to go. Now.”

Dante didn’t move. He kept his eyes on Adriana. “Last choice, piccola. Come with me. Leave this city. Leave your name. Leave everything. Or stay. Face the press. Face the scandal. Face him in court.”

Adriana looked back at the tunnel. At the blood. At the lies.

Then she looked at Dante. At the man who chose her over his empire. Who killed for her. Who lied to protect her. Who bled for her.

She took his hand.

“I choose you,” she said. “But not because you’re a Moretti. Because you’re Dante. And I’m Adriana. And that’s enough.”

Dante’s breath caught. Like he’d been waiting for those words his whole life.

He pulled her into the car. Luca slammed the door and floored it.

As they sped through the tunnels, Adriana’s phone buzzed one last time.

Unknown Number: _You think you won, sister? Blood always tells. Check your mother’s grave. - V_

Dante saw it too. His face went hard.

“Driver,” he said. Voice like ice. “Change of plans. We go to the cemetery.”

Adriana gripped his hand tighter. “Why?”

Dante looked at her. Eyes black and certain.

“Because if Vittorio’s lying about one thing, he’s lying about everything. And if your mother isn’t really dead... then we find her before he does.”

The car turned toward the city cemetery as dawn broke over the skyline.

Behind them, Vittorio’s laugh echoed through the tunnel: “Blood always comes home, sister!”

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