Chapter Seven – Bound Vows
810 Words
(Emma’s POV)
I stood at the doorway, staring.
His body glistened with sweat as he struck the punching bag with brutal force, as if all his rage was packed into his fists. His shoulders moved with a terrifying rhythm, muscles tightening under the dim light. He looked like he was fighting his demons… or training them.
My gaze locked on him, and something strange stirred inside me—like butterflies waking in my stomach. My heart thudded, thudded, thudded as if it was running. And then, that insane urge hit me… to touch his chest, to step closer, to kiss him without permission.
I drowned in the storm of my thoughts until his deep voice cut through:
— “Why are you awake at this hour, Emma?”
I blinked. My voice was stolen from my throat.
— “I… had a nightmare. A bad dream.”
He stopped boxing, ripped the wraps off his hands, and tossed them onto a chair before walking toward me. His dark eyes scanned me, unreadable.
— “What dream, Emma?”
— “I don’t want to tell… If I say it out loud, it might come true.”
— “Tell me. I won’t repeat myself.”
God… the hardness in him makes me feel so small, like something he could crush if he wanted. Yet somehow, I trust him. A hidden desire pulls me deeper into his world.
I whispered the dream in broken words—about the cage, the ring, Josh’s corpse, his blood-soaked cry: “You’re mine.”
When I finished, I couldn’t face him. My eyes fell to the floor, my breaths tangled in my chest. But he didn’t let me drown in my shame. His hand lifted my chin gently… though his eyes burned like fire.
He spoke with the calm of someone interpreting a sacred vision:
— “The cage is our marriage. The ring, my world. Josh? He exists. And me standing over him? That’s my victory over you—my triumph in claiming you. The blood? Just souvenirs from the insects that annoy me. As for my last words…” He leaned closer, his voice brushing against my lips. “…that’s not part of the dream. That’s the only truth here, Emma.”
— “You… already belong to me.”
I ran.
I fled from his voice, his gaze, the shivers racing through me, from everything he stirred with just one sentence: You’re mine.
Back in my room, I shut the door and leaned against it, trembling. I tried to sleep, to dream of something—anything—that wasn’t his face. But sleep betrayed me. My eyes stayed open, my heart refused to stop running.
---
Morning was merciless.
A procession of women stormed into my room, their faces blank, their hands full of brushes, perfumes, strange tools.
I stared at them, feeling like I was being prepared for an execution, not a wedding… until he walked in.
Miguel.
He was different. A mirrored image of Daniel in his features, yet his eyes… were not his brother’s.
Miguel’s eyes held warmth, humanity, even purity. Daniel’s eyes were the opposite—dark, heavy, laced with something close to ruin.
— “What’s happening?” I asked, my voice tired.
Miguel smiled softly.
— “Did you forget? Today is your wedding day, Emma.”
My eyes widened. I had forgotten. God…
— “It’s good I came,” he said, stepping closer with steady confidence. His voice didn’t sound like Daniel’s. Gentle, certain, like he was trying to be a beam of light in a world drowning in shadows.
— “Emma… I know it’s been a while since we last spoke. And I know things are moving fast… but if you need anything, I’m here. Even if it means standing against my brother.”
— “Against Daniel? For me? That will never happen, Miguel…”
— “I know. But it doesn’t mean I’ll watch you suffer in silence. Daniel loves you in his own way… and if you obey him, he’ll give you an entire world. Just… remember you’re not alone.”
He gave me a tender smile before leaving me to the mercy of the women, who immediately began transforming me into a bride.
---
Hours felt like eternity.
They brushed my hair, cleansed my skin, dabbed light perfumes, and tended to every detail of my face and body. When the dress slipped onto me… I almost didn’t recognize myself.
A white gown—simple yet breathtaking. Soft against my skin, flowing down in smooth waves, lifting my chest just slightly, my arms veiled in sheer sleeves that looked spun from moonlight.
They handed me a small bouquet of white roses, and in that moment… I knew there was no turning back.
I really was… about to marry him.
- Writer
