Unholy Matrimony

The Price Of Betrayal.

(Sapphire’s POV)

“Don’t touch it.” My husband’s cold voice echoed through my mind.

I blinked and came back to reality.

His grip on my chin was a burning sensation as he looked at my face to make sure I was okay before he turned away to look at one of his security guards who had just entered the room, his voice slicing the air like a blade.

“Find out who did this,” he ordered, low and deadly. “I don’t care if it was a ghost. Someone got inside this penthouse, into her studio, so someone is going to pay.”

The guard swallowed hard and nodded, retreating so fast he nearly tripped over his own boots. The door shut, leaving a deadly silence behind enough for me to hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

I hugged myself tighter, staring at the shredded canvas on the floor.

She will break you before I do.

The words bled into my mind, mocking me, choking me. I had painted those chains around Damian, even though unconsciously, because they were mine too. Every stroke was me saying things I couldn’t say out loud, and now someone had ripped it open and destroyed it.

“Sit,” Damian said behind me. His voice didn’t create room for any argument.

I lowered myself onto the couch, my legs trembling. He stood by the ruined painting, phone pressed to his ear, his jaw cut from stone. I could see how upset he was that the painting I made for him had been tampered with. He barked orders in clipped sentences, and as he made mention of names and places and sent threats I didn’t understand, I just simply bent my head.

And then everywhere was quiet again.

We waited. I don’t know how long. But long enough that the city lights outside turned sharper, long enough that my nerves wound tighter and tighter until I could barely breathe.

Finally, the door opened. The same guard from earlier stepped inside, sweat beading his forehead, two more men entered, dragging another between them.

The one they dragged was younger, his face pale, his eyes kept darting around like a trapped animal.

Damian didn’t even look at me. He walked forward, slow and measured, like a predator circling its prey.

“Tell me,” he said curtly.

The trembling guard, the one the others had dragged in, stammered. “It wasn’t me, sir, I swear…”

Damian’s hand shot out, gripping his throat, cutting off his words.

“Tell me,” he repeated, quieter this time.

My chest constricted. “Damian…”

He didn’t look at me. His eyes never left the boy’s, they stayed fixed on him without blinking.

The boy choked, clawing at Damian’s wrist. “I…I didn’t…someone paid…” he struggled to speak.

I swallowed as I stole a look at him. His face was turning blue.

“Who?” Damian’s voice was ice.

“I don’t know his name,” the boy gasped. “I swear…he…he just wanted me to erase the cameras. I didn’t think…”

“You didn’t think,” Damian repeated. He released him so suddenly the boy stumbled, coughing, clutching his throat. For one split second, I thought maybe he’d show mercy.

Then the gun was in his hand.

“Wait…” I gasped, surging forward. “Damian, please! He’s just a guard!”

Damian’s eyes flicked to me for the briefest second, and what I saw there made my skin tingle. No hesitation. No softness. Only cold calculation.

He was surely going to pull that trigger. I just knew it.

“He let someone into your world,” he said in a very rough tone like was fighting to restrain himself from doing more than what he was doing in front of me. “He let them touch what was yours. That makes him dead.”

And that was it. I didn’t get to say anything else, because before I could move, before I could breathe…

The sound of the gunshot shattered the silence.

The boy crumpled, lifeless, his body hitting the marble with a sickening thud. Blood pooled out from the hole on his forehead., seeping into the lines of the stone floor, contradicting against the perfection of this place.

I staggered back, my hand over my mouth. The sound echoed in my skull, the smell of gunpowder burning into my lungs.

“You… you’ve killed him,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I brought my hands to my mouth.

Damian lowered the gun slowly, his face unreadable. “He betrayed you. That makes him dead.” He repeated.

The other guards didn’t flinch. They moved wordlessly, wrapping the body inside a bodybag one of them had brought in like it was nothing more than trash. They had come prepared. They all knew he was going to die.

Who were these people?

I pressed against the wall, my whole body trembling. “You didn’t even give him a chance…he was scared, Damian! He was begging for his life”

“Scared men make mistakes,” my husband cut in, his voice sharp enough to slice through my protest. “And mistakes get you killed in my world, wife. The world you are now a part of.”

His gaze found mine then. “Do you understand now, blue eyes? This is what betrayal costs. This is what it takes to keep you alive.”

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat. I couldn’t look at him, so I put my head down, and quickly turned away when my eyes came in contact with the blood, I couldn’t look at any of it. My eyes fell instead on the ruined painting still lying torn on the floor, it was a mirror of how I was feeling inside at that moment. I felt open, exposed, violated.

Damian stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that his voice was all I could hear.

“I told you,” he murmured, low and dangerous. “No one touches what’s mine.”

I closed my eyes, fighting back tears, but they slid hot down my cheeks anyway.

Outside, the city glittered like nothing had changed. Inside, the air still smelled of smoke and blood even as an old woman started cleaning up the bloodstains.

Where had she come from?

In that moment, I realized something terrifying.

I wasn’t sure who I feared more—the faceless enemy who had left the note.

Or the man who had just killed without hesitation in my name.

As I opened my mouth to tell him that I was exhausted and I would be going to my room, a sharp knock was heard from the door.

Someone was outside.

My heart almost flew out of my mouth.