The Devil's Mercy

Laughter echoed through the hall like mocking screams, filling my ears. I felt my breath hitch. I wanted to run, but I couldn't. After all, I was the bride, and brides don't run. They don't, do they? As I struggled to breathe within the suffocating grip of my corset, the guests were effortlessly clinking glasses filled with expensive wine. My chest, spilling slightly over the neckline of the white gown, rose and fell with every frantic breath I took. To be honest, I had felt like a princess in this dress at first. But why would a woman enjoy being a princess if she didn't love her prince? This was a peace treaty, a marriage arranged years ago. While my father fought with everything he had to keep the Montoya family from crumbling, an unexpected blood feud erupted with the Kertans. The powerful families of the underworld had to step in for my father’s sake. Once, during my grandfather’s time, we were one of those Great Families. But my father couldn't uphold the empire he inherited. Thank God he hadn't destroyed it entirely; we were no longer the Empire, just a "friend" of it. I was a child when I accepted the Kertans' proposal to bind the families through blood, driven by pure terror. Back then, death was the most terrifying thing I could imagine. But now, I am grown. Death no longer scares me. It was too late anyway. “You should take a sip,” my ‘fake prince’ said, offering me his wine. Kai Kertan looked utterly satisfied. Of course he was. He was about to marry the most beautiful woman in the underworld. That was how they always spoke of me. People even mourned when they heard whom I was marrying. I had overheard them whispering countless times: “What a pity! Such beauty, destined to wither away beside a man like that.” “I don’t want it,” I said, referring not to the wine, but to him. He understood perfectly. “Perhaps. But believe me, after tonight, you’ll want me all the time,” he replied. The implication made my stomach churn. That was all he cared about. Lust. Did he know anything else? He hadn't even tried to make me love him. Despite that, I had tried to force myself to feel something, anything, for him. But no. It was impossible. I hated him so much… “What kind of man does it make you, Kai, to touch a woman who doesn't want you?” I asked, finally turning my gaze to him. A mocking smirk played on his lips. “It makes me a good husband, Valeria. One who intends to show his wife exactly how much pleasure can be found in the things she thinks she hates.” He was so arrogant, so composed, that I felt a primal urge to throw the wine in his face. If only a miracle would happen. If only this nightmare would end. As I looked away, the priest had already reached us. The ceremony was suffocatingly grand, a display of power that felt like a chokehold. Even before I had said "I do," congratulations were already being whispered. I wasn’t married yet! The priest began his sermon, but all I could hear was the sobbing of the little girl inside me. Laughter surrounded me, but I was busy trying to silence my own tears. The priest’s voice hummed in my ears. “Do you, Valeria Montoya...” I waited for him to finish the sentence that would trade my life away. The pearl necklace around my neck felt like a noose. I looked at my father; his face didn't hold the triumph of peace, but the shadow of defeat. I knew he didn't want this, but he was forced. I parted my lips. To say ‘Yes’ was to lock my soul in a tomb. At that exact moment, the massive wooden doors of the church thundered open, as if struck by a storm. It wasn't the wind that entered—it was Death itself. Every eye snapped away from the bride and groom toward the man standing in the doorway. I had never seen this man before, but the first thing I saw in his eyes... was the power of a demon. He stood there with the posture of a man who already knew he had won. In contrast to his deliberately dyed white hair, his ash-gray eyes watched like a wolf beneath sharp brows. A wolf that had come to hunt… slow, deliberate, and certain. His face was clean-shaven, his jawline sharp and lethal. “Dmitri…” Kai whispered. The blood drained from his face as he stared at the intruder. Dmitri… Dmitri Morozov? The heir to the Imperial Family? The man they called the White Volkov, the one everyone bowed to? When Dmitri Morozov brought his hand from behind his back, gasps of terror filled the room. He wasn't just holding a gun; he was holding the death warrant for our families' hollow peace. The moment our eyes met, I realized: He hadn't come here to break the peace. He had come to burn the world that had been built for me. Did he know? If he did this, he would be saving a girl he didn't even know existed. His gaze lingered on me, and a shiver raced through my body so intensely that I wanted to look away—but I couldn't. “I wanted to save you from becoming a widow so soon,” he said, as if he only owed an explanation to me. He smiled, and I felt I was witnessing a man who had sold his soul to the devil. “A hunter does not deserve the doe.” Kai was the hunter. I was the doe. “No!” Kai screamed, but it all happened in a single second. The bullet tore from the barrel amidst a chorus of screams. My body jerked back. Kai’s blood sprayed across my white gown like scattered rubies. My breath caught in my throat. Fear hissed in my ear like a serpent. Amidst the chaos and the screams of terror, a hand reached out toward my body where I lay on the floor. The same hand that had caused the blood to spill was now being offered to me. Fear told me not to take it. Gratitude told me I must. These were the hands of a savior, but they were also the hands of a killer. When I didn't take his hand, he dropped to one knee, leaning in close. My body was trembling as I struggled to sit up; his proximity made every hair on my neck stand up. “You shouldn't have shown your enmity so quickly just because I killed the man you loved, Montoya girl,” he said, his voice a burning friction against my ears. Enmity? The man I loved? He had no idea. “Thank you,” I whispered. The shock that flashed across his face was unmistakable. “I am grateful to you for saving me, Morozov.” We both fell silent. He looked at me with an intensity that felt like he was reaching into my chest to tear out my soul. “Then make sure you never forget your gratitude, Montoya.” His hand reached for my neck. Without hesitation, he gripped the pearl necklace designed specifically for the bride and ripped it off. The pearls scattered across the floor, bouncing like tiny white teeth. I knew the meaning. If a bride’s pearls are scattered, it is her time to mourn. The wedding was over. With a single gesture, he had declared: It is now time for the bride to grieve. He stood up, turned his back on everyone, and walked out of the hall as if he hadn't just turned a wedding into a bloodbath, sipping a glass of whiskey as he went. God… I asked you to save me. I didn't ask for the Devil to be my savior.