Blood Vows

Enzo Valdez wasn’t the man to be heartless. He simply chose to be. Because in his world, kindness was weakness. Mercy was betrayal. And love? Love was suicide. Everything he’d ever cared for had been taken from him. The only thing he had left was control—control over his empire, over his enemies, over his carefully constructed emotional silence. It was the one shield that had never failed him. Until now. Until her. Alora Vito. The very name was a curse, a sentence spoken with venom. The girl was soft, delicate. The kind of woman who wore white without knowing what it symbolized in the underworld. She wasn’t born for this life, no matter how high her family’s name sat in the hierarchy. And she sure as hell wasn’t born to be his wife. Yet here she was—his future, signed and sealed in blood. An arranged marriage. A “deal” negotiated behind closed doors, long before her innocence met his rage. A strategic alliance between two powerful families, as cold and calculated as the men who brokered it. It was a betrayal wrapped in tradition, and Enzo could feel the iron chains tightening around his neck with every passing day. He hated it. He hated her. Not because she had done anything. Not yet. But because she existed as a symbol of everything he’d tried to escape. Her presence, her voice, her eyes—all of it chipped away at the walls he’d built with iron and fire. She was the mirror of a life he never asked for. And it made him burn. He stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse, the city glowing beneath him like a kingdom he ruled. The lights flickered like distant stars, each one a secret, a sin, a promise of violence. And in the reflection, behind the glass, he saw her. Small. Still. Waiting. She had knocked gently, like she belonged there. Like her presence in his life wasn’t a violation. He didn’t turn. “You shouldn’t be here.” “I thought we should talk,” she said softly. That voice. Sweet, melodic. Like warm honey sliding into poison. He clenched his jaw and turned slowly, meeting her eyes—hazel and wide, filled with the same hope he wanted to crush under his heel. “We have nothing to talk about,” he said, each word a blade. “We are not friends, Alora. We are not lovers. This isn’t a love story.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, but she didn’t back away. That only infuriated him more. That bravery she wore like a veil—it was foolish. Dangerous. It made him want to break her just to see if she could bleed. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” she said. “It’s not easy for me either. But we’re being forced into this together. I’m just trying to make it less painful.” Enzo barked a humorless laugh and stepped toward her. One step. Two. She didn’t flinch, but he saw the way her fingers tightened around the hem of her dress. “Do I look like I care about your pain?” he growled. “This marriage is a contract. A cage. And you, Alora, are the leash they’re using to control me.” “I’m not trying to control you—” “No?” he cut her off. “Then stop standing in my home like you have a right to be here.” The silence between them was thick and electric. Alora’s gaze flickered to the city behind him, then back to his face. She was trembling now, just slightly, but she still held her ground. “You don’t know me, Enzo,” she said finally. “You don’t even want to.” “Damn right I don’t.” He was close now. So close he could see the tiny freckle near her collarbone, the faint quiver in her bottom lip. She smelled like lilacs and safe. Like everything he was taught to reject. But still, he didn’t back away. “You’re just a pretty little doll they’ve gift-wrapped for me,” he hissed. But don’t think that makes you safe. Don’t think that just because we’re to be married, I’ll ever treat you like a wife.” Alora’s eyes shimmered, but no tears fell. “I didn’t ask foor this either. But maybe if you stopped trying to hate me, you’d see I’m not your enemy.” “You’re worse,” he said coldly. “You’re my weakness.” The words came out low, ragged, almost like a confession. And in that moment, Enzo hated her even more—because it was true. Her presence chipped at his armor in ways bullets never could. Her softness crept under his skin like a virus, and the more she stood there, unshaken, the more he feared what that meant. He turned from her, disgusted with himself, with this cursed vow, with her. “Get out.” Alora didn’t move. “Enzo—” “I said get. Out.” His voice cracked through the air like a whip. She took a step back, then another, her gaze still locked on him. Then, without another word, she slipped out the door, leaving behind a silence that roared. Enzo closed his eyes and exhaled. She was going to ruin him.