CHAPTER FOUR — THE DEVIL DOESN’T PRAY
1779 Words
Pain woke her before memory did.
A sharp burning ache spread through Kira’s shoulder as consciousness dragged her upward slowly.
The first thing she heard was rain.
Soft now.
Distant.
The second thing she noticed was warmth.
Not blankets.
A person.
Her eyes opened weakly.
Dark ceilings stretched above her. Gold chandeliers reflected dim amber light across enormous walls lined with black marble and ancient paintings.
This was not the Romano estate.
Panic surged instantly.
Kira jerked upright—
And nearly cried out from the pain ripping through her shoulder.
“Careful.”
Her head snapped toward the voice.
Adrian sat near the fireplace across the room.
Still wearing black.
Still terrifying.
Except now he looked exhausted.
The sharp edges of his face were shadowed by fatigue. Fresh blood stained his sleeve. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing bruises and scars beneath.
Scars everywhere.
Some old.
Some horrifyingly new.
Kira stared at him silently.
Then memory crashed back all at once.
😪The wedding.
The shooting.
Blood.
Death.
The bullet.
Her breathing quickened.
“How long was I unconscious?”
“Almost a day.”
“A day?”
“The bullet passed through cleanly.”
Adrian rose from the chair slowly.
“You lost blood, but you’ll recover.”
Kira looked around carefully again.
“Where am I?”
“My estate.”
The answer immediately made her uneasy.
The room alone was bigger than most apartments. Dark luxury covered every corner, but none of it felt warm.
This place felt like him.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Dangerous.
Kira looked down.
Her wedding dress was gone.
Instead, she wore a loose black shirt that definitely belonged to a man.
Her pulse skipped.
“You changed my clothes?”
Adrian stopped moving.
For one rare second, he actually looked uncomfortable.
“A doctor did.”
Relief flickered through her.
Then suspicion followed immediately.
“You stayed here while I slept?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian’s gaze settled on her calmly.
“Because someone tried to kill you at our wedding.”
The reminder chilled her instantly.
“Who was it?”
“We’re still finding out.”
Still.
Not sure.
Meaning the threat wasn’t over.
Kira swallowed hard.
“How many people died?”
Adrian was quiet for a moment.
“Twelve.”
The number made her stomach twist.
“Twelve people died because of me.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened slightly.
“They died because somebody was stupid enough to attack what belongs to me.”
The words settled heavily in the room.
Kira looked at him carefully.
“You keep saying things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Mine.”
Adrian’s expression didn’t change.
“Because it’s true.”
“I’m not property.”
“No,” he agreed calmly. “You’re leverage. Power. A target. And now you’re under my protection.”
Protection.
The word sounded strange coming from someone like him.
Kira studied him silently.
There was something deeply confusing about Adrian.
He terrified her.
Yet he had carried her out of gunfire like she mattered.
Men like him weren’t supposed to protect people gently.
They were supposed to destroy them.
“You should eat,” Adrian said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You said that yesterday too.”
Kira frowned slightly.
“You remember everything I say?”
“I remember important things.”
Again, that strange feeling tightened inside her chest.
Before she could respond, the bedroom doors suddenly opened.
Nikolai walked in carrying a tray of food.
The moment he saw Kira awake, he grinned dramatically.
“Oh good. The corpse revived.”
Kira blinked.
“What?”
Nikolai ignored her completely and looked at Adrian.
“You know, most husbands buy flowers after the wedding. You brought your wife bullets.”
Adrian looked unimpressed.
“She likes bullets.”
“I absolutely do not.”
Nikolai pointed at her immediately.
“See? Communication issues already. This marriage is doomed.”
Despite herself, Kira nearly smiled again.
Nikolai noticed instantly.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because Adrian noticed too.
And for some reason, the room suddenly became tense.
Nikolai placed the tray near the bed.
“Eat before His Majesty starts threatening the kitchen staff again.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“I threatened one chef.”
“You threw a knife at him.”
“He overcooked the steak.”
Kira stared.
“You threw a knife at a chef?”
“He missed.”
Nikolai sighed dramatically toward her.
“This is what you married.”
“I’m beginning to understand that.”
Adrian sat back near the fireplace again while Nikolai moved toward the window.
Rain continued falling beyond the glass.
The atmosphere shifted slightly quieter now.
More serious.
Nikolai’s expression darkened.
“We found another body.”
Adrian went still.
“Where?”
“Near the southern gates.”
Kira immediately sensed the change in the room.
The air itself felt heavier.
“What does that mean?” she asked carefully.
Nikolai looked toward Adrian first before answering.
“It means someone inside the estate helped the attackers.”
Betrayal.
The word hung unspoken between them.
Kira’s stomach tightened.
An inside traitor meant the danger wasn’t over.
It meant someone close enough to infiltrate one of the strongest mafia gatherings in the world wanted Adrian dead.
Or her.
“Who would do that?” she whispered.
Adrian’s expression became unreadable again.
“Lots of people want me dead.”
The calmness in his voice unsettled her.
Like he had accepted death as something inevitable years ago.
Nikolai folded his arms.
“The Russians are denying involvement.”
“They’re lying.”
“Probably.”
Kira looked between them carefully.
“You both act like this is normal.”
Nikolai laughed once.
“In our world? This is basically family drama.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
He raised a hand.
“Too soon?”
“Yes.”
“Fair.”
Adrian rose suddenly.
“I need to speak with the council.”
Nikolai nodded.
“I’ll join you.”
As both men turned toward the door, Kira spoke before thinking.
“Wait.”
Adrian paused.
Kira hesitated briefly.
Then—
“Don’t die.”
Silence filled the room instantly.
Nikolai’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.
Adrian slowly turned back toward her.
And for the first time since meeting him—
He genuinely looked surprised.
The intensity of his gaze became unbearable.
Kira immediately regretted speaking.
“I just meant— because people are trying to kill you and—”
“I understood what you meant.”
His voice had become quieter now.
Rougher somehow.
The atmosphere between them shifted again.
Dangerously.
Nikolai suddenly cleared his throat loudly.
“Well this is emotionally horrifying for everyone involved.”
Neither of them looked at him.
Adrian kept staring at Kira.
Then finally he nodded once.
“Get some rest.”
And left the room.
Nikolai followed slowly, though not before giving Kira one long thoughtful look.
The moment the doors closed, silence consumed the room again.
Kira exhaled shakily.
What was happening to her?
This was Adrian Vasilios.
A man feared across continents.
A man surrounded by blood and violence.
A man she should hate.
And yet—
Every time he looked at her, something inside her became uncertain.
That terrified her most of all.
Hours later, sleep refused to come.
Kira stood carefully near the massive bedroom windows overlooking the estate grounds below.
The Vasilios estate was enormous.
Dark forests surrounded the property like walls. Armed guards patrolled constantly beneath the rain.
This place was less home and more fortress.
Prison.
Her shoulder still hurt, but curiosity eventually pulled her toward the hallway.
The estate remained strangely quiet this late at night.
Most lights were dimmed.
Soft classical music echoed faintly somewhere distant.
Kira moved slowly through the corridors.
Portraits lined the walls everywhere.
Generations of Vasilios men stared down coldly from gold frames.
Powerful.
Merciless.
Then she stopped suddenly.
One portrait stood apart from the others.
A younger Adrian.
Maybe twenty.
Before prison.
Before whatever darkness consumed him.
Kira stared at the painting carefully.
The difference shocked her.
His eyes.
They were alive.
Still dangerous, but human.
There was warmth there once.
Hope, even.
“What are you doing awake?”
Kira turned sharply.
Adrian stood at the end of the hallway.
No jacket now.
Only black slacks and a dark shirt rolled to his elbows.
The sight of him somehow felt more dangerous like this.
Less polished.
More real.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
His gaze shifted toward the portrait.
“That painting’s old.”
“I can tell.”
Silence lingered briefly.
Kira looked back at the portrait again.
“You look happier there.”
Something flickered across his expression.
Gone instantly.
“That man doesn’t exist anymore.”
The answer carried finality.
Like a coffin closing.
Kira studied him carefully.
“What happened to you in prison?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened immediately.
Too far.
She knew it instantly.
But instead of leaving—
He walked closer.
Slowly.
The tension between them thickened with every step.
“You really want to know?”
Kira swallowed hard but nodded anyway.
Adrian stopped directly in front of her.
Too close.
“Imagine waking up every day surrounded by men who dream about killing you.”
His voice remained calm.
That made it worse.
“Imagine learning very quickly that mercy gets you beaten unconscious. Kindness gets you betrayed. Weakness gets you buried.”
Kira’s chest tightened.
“You were alone?”
A humorless smile touched his mouth.
“You’re always alone in places like that.”
The hallway suddenly felt smaller.
Quieter.
Heavier.
Kira noticed another scar near his throat.
Then another near his wrist.
Evidence of survival carved directly into skin.
“How did you get out?” she whispered.
Adrian looked at her for a long moment before answering.
“I didn’t.”
The words sent cold down her spine.
“What does that mean?”
“It means prison never really ends.”
Before she could respond, footsteps echoed somewhere nearby.
Adrian immediately shifted.
The softness vanished.
Coldness returned instantly like armor snapping back into place.
A guard approached quickly.
“There’s been another attack.”
Kira’s pulse jumped.
“Where?”
“The docks.”
Adrian cursed quietly.
The guard continued nervously.
“They left a message.”
Adrian’s expression darkened dangerously.
“What message?”
The guard hesitated.
Then—
“They said the devil should’ve stayed buried.”
Silence.
Terrifying silence.
Kira looked toward Adrian.
And realized something horrifying.
He wasn’t angry.
He looked ready for war.
- Writer
