Chapter 12: Straight-Talking Dialogue
239 Words
Chapter 12: Straight-Talking Dialogue
“You’re serious?” Elara stares at the ring in Raphael’s hand, voice like a blade. “A wedding? To make me feel safe?”
Raphael doesn’t blink. “It’s fake. My heart isn’t.”
She lets out a cold laugh. “You know what kills people like you fastest? Sweet words and fire you can’t control.”
Thalia groans. “Enough. The soul contract’s done. Keep arguing and I’m charging double.”
Emmett scoffs. “Typical Montague. Marrying a death-seer? You’re dragging our bloodline straight to the grave.”
Aurora—draped in crimson lace—smirks. “Relax, darling. Weddings are just theater, aren’t they?”
Elara’s gaze snaps to her, eyes like knives. “You’re not Aurora. You’re Lorenzo’s puppet.”
Silence crashes.
“What?” Raphael stiffens.
Elara’s pupils burn to ash-gray—death vision ignites.
She sees herself fall: white dress soaked in red, soul ripped from bone.
And behind the bride? A caster. Smiling.
“Got you,” Elara whispers. Blood spills from her palm—blood oath flares like wildfire.
“Wherever you hide, I’ll find you. And I’ll end you.”
Aurora’s glamour shatters. A scream—then her soul tears loose, shredded mid-air.
Raphael pulls Elara close, ignoring the gasps. Kisses her—hard.
“This isn’t fake, Elara. It’s the start.”
She doesn’t move.
His voice drops. “Just this once… trust me.”
- Writer
