Chapter 12

I dont know how long it stayed lying down on my side on this damned bed after Knight announced his fucked up proposal and that kiss. That kiss ruined my capability to think. The shock of his mouth on mine was nothing repulsive but more needed. I shook my head to stop thinking about him and his damned mouth on mine.

I couldnt help but curse my sister and fucking Mark. They wanted to fuck each other? Fine do that, but why the fuck did they get involved in this world. What was Ana thinking?

I think about all the times i took care of her after our parents death, how i had to become her mother, father, brother and sister. Never a betrayal has ever hurt me this deep.

There was a click announcing someone coming in. I did not turn around to see who it was. At this point, I was done with everyone and everything

And if Knight thinks I will be marrying him? He has another thing coming. I would light myself on fire before that can happen.

“Mr Knight has sent these dresses for you to try on.” A maturely feminine voice said. I snapped my head toward that voice and saw an elderly lady wearing a worn out gray and white maids uniform. A spark of hope lit inside of. Maybe, just maybe she can help me out.

I jumped out of the bed, towards her and held her shoulder with strength i dont know how i mustered. “You need to help me. That man is forcing me to marry him. He kidnapped me for something i didnt do.” Tears ran down my face but hers remained neutral. Not a move in her expression. But I saw a flare of something soft in her eyes and that was enough to spur me more. “Please im begging you, let me out of here.”

“Mr Knight is a good man. He will do right by you.” and that was the last of my hope that was tarnished. I was on my own. “He sent you these dresses to choose from. He personally likes this one. Its from Valentino” She held out a white dress proudly for me to take.

I did not bother looking at the dress when red rage burned behind my eyes. I bent down to pick up the hem of the dress and before anyone of us could comprehend I ripped the silk in half.

I heard a gasp when the woman backed out from shock but at this point nothing would stop me. I heard a scream distinctively, only realizing later it was mine.

When I came back from my blacked out rage. I look at the woman looking at me with astonishment and a flicker of what could only be described as pride. That confused me but I was too far gone to look into that.

I looked down to see the hell I created. There were about 5-7 dresses I had torn into pieces. All which I was sure were very expensive but all I felt was contentment. I turned towards the woman with a smile. “You can tell Mr Knight that he can shove all these dresses up his ass. I am not marrying him. Today, tomorrow or ever.”

_________

Killian

I sent Rosa, my housekeeper, with a selection of wedding dresses to Marcella's room. The door closed behind her, and I waited. Muffled screams pierced the silence, clawing their way through the thick walls. I ignored them. They were just another note in the symphony of our twisted dance.

Minutes dragged by until Rosa burst from the room, her face expressionless as always but pride glinted in them. In her hands, the remnants of a once pristine $50,000 wedding dress hung in tatters. My chest tightened, but not with anger—with pride. Marcella wasn't going down without a fight.

"Mr Killian," Rosa started. “She tore the rest of them as well. She is not willing to go ahead with this marriage.”

"Good," I murmured, my lips curving up into the semblance of a smile. A wildcat had more spirit than a docile kitten—and I desired that fire.

"Should I take another?" Rosa's voice held something that has never held for me before.

Rosa was there for us when we started in this world. She was a mother us brothers never had and her displeasure was not something i was okay with.

"No," I replied, my gaze fixed on the shredded silk. "Let her be for now."

“Rosa. I am practically your son. You need to call me Killian.” I told her when she didnt move.

“No son of mine would have to force a poor girl to marry him.” She said and I felt a sense of dread hearing her words. “But i know why you are taking this step. So make sure you take care of that precious girl Killian. She has no idea what this world is. You need to make her understand why this is happening if you want to reach your end game.” With that she turned and walked out the door.

She was right. I knew that.

I walked to the window, looking out at the dawn breaking over the city. This marriage wouldn't be one of tenderness or vows whispered under a starlit sky. It would be a union of survival, of two people caught in the crossfire of a war neither asked for. But as the light touched the buildings, turning them golden, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more between us—an ember that could ignite if given the chance.

She might hate me now, but Marcella would be mine. And perhaps, in time, she would see that this was the only way. For both of us.

________

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when I strode through the opulent corridors of my estate, my footsteps echoing against the marble floors. Everything was ready for our union except for the main person. My bride.

The door to Marcella's quarters loomed before me, the ornate woodwork a stark contrast to the chaos I knew reigned within. Her defiance was a spark in the dull routine of my life. A thrill that had nothing to do with fear pulsed through me as I raised my hand and opened the door.

"Marcella," I saw her sitting on the floor scattered with pieces of fabric.

Fabrics that cost me more than a damn dress needs to cost.

"Killian," she said, her voice steady but betraying a hint of trepidation. She slowly stood up like a queen in captivity, her spirit unbroken even as her situation grew dire.

The sight of her, so alive, so vibrant, it stoked the embers of desire within me. But there was no tenderness in this moment—only the raw energy of two forces set on a collision course.

"Your maid seemed quite upset," She remarked casually as I stepped into the room. The destruction was immediate to my senses—the torn fabric of the wedding dress scattered across the floor like fallen petals of an unwanted future.

"Did you think destroying a dress would change anything?" My tone was light, yet the undercurrent of authority was unmistakable. “We are getting married right now.”

She met my gaze, defiant. "I won't marry you." Each word was a stone flung at my resolve.

"Ah, but you will," I countered, closing the distance between us. "Because you have no choice."

Her breath hitched, “Why are you doing this? I just want to leave.” I could see the rapid pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. So delicate and yet so resilient. This game we played was dangerous, intoxicating.

"This is to keep you safe," I whispered, giving into her vulnerability. Reaching out to tilt her chin up with my index finger. Her skin was soft, warm, sending a jolt of awareness through me.

"Safe from whom? How can it get from where I am already? I was about to get raped by one of your men" she shot back, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching mine for a crack in the armor I wore.

"And he got what he deserved. No one touches whats mine," I answered, my thumb brushing lightly over her lower lip, feeling the tremble beneath my touch. It still angered me how that fucker got to her. He touched whats mine with those hands. Hands which i should have breaked. His death was very easy for him. Which no bastard who touches her deserves.

"I'm not yours," she challenged, her breath mingling with mine, "let me go."

The words hung between us, laden with the weight of impossibilities. I leaned closer, my lips hovering over hers, the tension coiling tighter. "I've made my decision."

Her eyes darkened, and for a moment, we were suspended in a space where only power and passion existed. I wanted to taste her again. Once wasn't enough. I was starting to think it never would be. Then, without warning, she turned her face away, breaking the spell.

"You wont have to keep me safe. It shouldn't matter to you what happens to me." she said, a calculated move to shift the balance.

"It matters," I replied, my voice a low growl. “Your sister has joined forces with the enemy who is planning to come after you. Marrying me will keep you safe. No one touch my woman.” I growled out. Just the touch of Benito’s hands on her makes me see red.

"What?" she gaped like a fish. If i didnt want to make her more angry, i would laugh at how adorable she looks.

"Thats right. Marry me so i can keep you safe. After this war is finished, i will let you go." I stepped back, creating space, needing to regain my composure. It was a blatant lie. But she doesnt need to know that. I am never letting her go.

"Really? You will let me go?" she pressed, her gaze flickering with something I couldn't quite place—a mix of disappointment and relief.

"Marcella," I said, my voice softening despite myself. There was something about her, a light that refused to be extinguished, that drew me in. "This is about survival. Yours. Mine. Ours."

"Survival doesn't require marriage," she retorted, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Sometimes it does." I left the sentence hanging, heavy with unspoken truths. “I'm sending a dress. Make sure you are ready in an hour. Its time I make you mine.” I said with a devious smile and left the room before she could say anything.

In an hour she will be mine.