I Was The Mafia's Runaway Bride

Run 9: ⚠️⚠️⚠️

ARKISHA MIRABELLA'S POV:

Hindi pa man pumuputok ang Haring araw, tila isang palabas sa pelikula ang nangyayari sa buhay ko. Kasalukuyan akong nakaupo sa silya habang pinapanuod namin ni Lawrence ang kaganapan sa balita tungkol sa amin ni Euan. It was like watching a slow-motion explosion.

Every social media platform, every major news outlet, and even the trashy gossip blogs were screaming the same headline in bold, unforgiving letters: “The Union of the Century: Euan Steve Fierro and Arkisha Mirabella to Wed.”

“Ano na ang magiging plano mo?” tanong ni Lawrence sa akin.

“H-Hindi ko alam. Hindi ko naman kayang kalabanin ang mga magulang ko dahil kahit saan naman ako magpunta ay mahahanap nila ako.”

The news had detonated like a dirty bomb, scattering the shards of my privacy and my freedom across the digital landscape.

I barely had a heartbeat to process the magnitude of the betrayal - the way my parents had sold me off like a prime piece of real estate - before the fragile peace of Lawrence’s sanctuary was shattered.

There was no polite knock. There was no warning. The heavy oak door of the condo didn't just open; it was invaded.

Euan Steve Fierro didn’t just walk into a room; he commanded the space around him until the walls felt like they were closing in.

He stood in the center of the living room, a stark contrast to the warm, cluttered comfort of Lawrence’s home.

He was flanked by a phalanx of menacing men in charcoal suits - shadowy figures whose stoic expressions and earpieces screamed high-level danger. They weren't just bodyguards; they were a private army.

“Sino ka naman para pumasok sa bahay ko nang walang paalam? Alam mo bang trespassing ang ginagawa mo?”

Lawrence stood his ground, his voice vibrating with a brave but brittle defiance.

He dropped his fork, the metallic clink against the ceramic plate sounding like a gunshot in the tense silence. He stepped in front of me, a shield of flesh and bone against the titan standing in his foyer.

But as I looked at his profile, I could see it - the slight, uncontrollable tremor in his hand. He was a freelance model, a man of cameras and lights, facing a man of shadows and blood.

Euan didn’t flinch. He didn’t even deign to look at the decor or the man shouting at him. His eyes were cold, calculating, and predatory.

When he spoke, his voice was a low, melodic drone, reciting Lawrence’s life as if he were reading a boring grocery list found in the trash.

“Lawrence Moreno, twenty-five years old. A freelance model with a lifestyle that is... mediocre at best,” Euan said, his Tagalog-English blend dripping with an icy, aristocratic condescension. He finally turned a glacial stare toward Lawrence, his eyes devoid of any human warmth. “Euan Steve Fierro is my name - a name you wouldn't want to mess with if you value your future, or your ability to breathe in it.”

“Ah, so ikaw ang lalaking nakatakdang ipakasal kay Arkisha?” Lawrence retorted. He tried to lace his voice with skepticism, a desperate attempt to belittle the man who looked like he could buy and sell the entire building without checking his bank balance.

Euan ignored him entirely. It was the ultimate insult; Lawrence had ceased to exist the moment he finished speaking.

Instead, Euan’s gaze slid toward me, and I felt the temperature in the room plummet ten degrees.

I felt a sudden, burning wave of self-consciousness. I was draped in Lawrence’s oversized black t-shirt, the hem barely reaching mid-thigh, and a pair of simple boxer shorts.

It was an outfit that screamed intimacy, domesticity, and shared nights. Walang nangyari sa amin, but in the judgmental, obsidian depths of Euan’s eyes, I saw the verdict.

I was the runaway bride who had disgraced her lineage by seeking refuge in the arms of a commoner.

“Arkisha, pinapasundo ka na ng mga magulang mo,” Euan said. His face was a mask of polished marble - zero emotion, zero empathy. But his eyes? They were fixed like a laser on Lawrence’s hand, which was currently wrapped possessively around my waist. It was a silent, lethal declaration of war.

“Ayoko! Hindi ako uuwi hangga't hindi nila inaatras ang kasal na gusto nilang mamagitan sa atin!” I snapped, my voice cracking with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

I tried to suppress the rising tide of hatred in my chest, but looking at his smug, commanding face, I knew this wasn't just a temporary spat. This was a grudge that would follow me to the grave.

“Tatlong bagay lang ang gusto kong gawin mo, Arkisha,” Euan said. The tone of his voice shifted. It was no longer just cold; it was prophetic, like the heavy, ionized air before a devastating lightning strike.

He stepped closer, the smell of expensive cologne and something metallic - like ozone - filling my senses. Each word felt like a silver dagger slowly flaying my composure.

“Una, sumama ka sa akin pauwi. Pangalawa, hiwalayan mo ang lalaking iyan. At kung hindi mo gagawin...” He paused, the silence stretching so thin it felt like it would snap and cut us all. “Mayroon pa akong pangatlo... Mamamatay kayong pareho.”

The breath hitched in my throat. This wasn't a movie line. The sheer lethality in his tone, the way his jaw didn't even twitch as he threatened our lives, made me instinctively flinch away from Lawrence’s embrace.

“Nahihibang ka na ba? You’re a monster!” I hissed.

Euan tilted his head slightly, a predatory, avian gesture. “Kung ang pagiging hibang ang magiging dahilan para lang maisama kita pauwi sa mga magulang mo, then so be it. Gagawin ko ang lahat. Huwag mong hintayin na bumilang ako ng tatlo, Arkisha Mirabella.”

Blinded by a volatile cocktail of fear and fury, I lost it. I lunged at him, my palms itching to strike that perfect, arrogant face. “Wala kang karapatan na manduhan ako! Hindi ako sasama sa’yo pauwi kaya manigas ka—"

Before I could land a single blow on his chest, his hand shot out with the speed of a striking viper. He gripped my wrist, his fingers feeling like a steel handcuff, cold and unbreakable.