Chapter 211 My Red Wedding
>>Riona
Mercy?
This was mercy? He killed three men. Or is he saying he showed me mercy by not killing me? I don’t know what to make of his words. There are a number of things he could mean by that.
And Mate? What? I am his what? I don’t even know him, what is he claiming to be?
As he carried me back a low, haunting howl pierced the silence, drifting out from the very alley I'd just escaped. The sound seemed to chill the air, sending a shiver down my spine, catching all of my attention.
I squinted my eyes to look in that direction but we were far from it now.
The sounds were raw and feral, echoing off the walls, a wild cry that seemed to throb with warning. I felt Demos’s muscles tense at the sound, a subtle shift that I could feel as his arms tightened around me.
He didn’t look back, but his pace quickened.
He must have heard it too, but why in the world is there a howling sound in the middle of the city?
Why?
I did not have the answer and I couldn’t bring myself to ask my owner either. But it was certainly haunting and weird.
My whole body trembled as Demos led me back to the car. I didn’t have the strength to resist, didn’t even think to. The terror from the alley clung to me, every nerve frayed and raw. When he opened the car door, I simply let him guide me in, collapsing onto the seat as if my legs had lost the will to hold me up.
I watched him silently as he circled around the car and slid into the driver’s seat, his jaw clenched as he engaged the child lock, sealing me in.
The car began to move, the engine’s hum steady against the backdrop of the darkened streets. I didn’t say a word, my gaze fixed on the passing blur outside the window, thoughts too tangled and shaken to form any coherent plan or protest. Even if I had something to say, my voice felt trapped.
We rode in silence, his profile stark against the shadows cast by the streetlights. The quiet pressed in around me, thick and oppressive, but I barely noticed, too numb to break it. I could feel his gaze flick toward me now and then, assessing, but I couldn’t bring myself to look back.
My mind kept drifting back to how it all happened.
How did I end up like this? The me for a few weeks ago could never have imagined a fate like this.
(A few weeks Ago)
My earliest memory is of a blast. I still don’t know what kind of blast it was but it wasn’t a normal one, it didn’t hurt me but I was thrown far away from where I originally was.
And it took away all my memories from before the blast with it.
There is this faint voice-or voices that I hear. Voices of men, they were saying something but I couldn’t quite understand them. Over time I started to forget about the incident further because I had a good life even without the memories of my past
Or the people of my past.
I was adopted by a very loving couple who found me stumbling in the streets. They gave me a life. Treated me like their own daughter. Loved me and helped me so much
I sat on the floor, my body trembling uncontrollably. My blonde hair out of my bun that was supposed to be neatly tied.
So how come this is happening?
I brought my trembling hands up as my blue pupils shaked in fear and denial. I shook my head while my eyes were seeing something I couldn’t fully understand.
“No…” I whispered, my voice shaking just like my body.
The silk of my wedding gown had started to soak up with the blood pooling around me, getting dyed red, the blood clinging to my skin like it belonged there. Splashes of crimson dotted the front of my gown, a stark contrast against the delicate lace. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my palms, slick and shaking in the bright light of the bridal waiting room.
“No,” I gulped. This has to be dream- a nightmare
The bouquet of white roses I’d left on the vanity earlier was now tipped over, petals scattered across the floor, mingling with the blood.
I forced myself to look away from my hands, and my gaze landed on the two bodies lying near me—motionless, lifeless.
I shook my head violently
“Mom…” I whispered, “Dad…” They looked ghostly pale and twisted with the final traces of pain. The blood around them spread in dark, jagged pools, dying the marble floor beneath them. It was everywhere—an ocean of crimson.
My mother’s beautiful emerald dress was torn and soaked in blood. Deep gashes marred her chest, her gown ripped open where the blade had sliced through her. Her hands were still outstretched, frozen in a desperate, futile attempt to shield herself from the attack. I could see the wounds—jagged, vicious—carved into her body
My father-he lay beside her, his arm outstretched as though he had tried to reach for her in his final moments. Stab wounds peppered his torso, each one cruelly deep, evidence of a frenzied, brutal assault. His throat... I couldn’t bring myself to look too closely, but the gash there was unmistakable, the blood still oozing sluggishly, pooling beneath him.
It felt like my chest had been crushed. The air had grown thick, filled with the overwhelming scent of blood and the faint trace of my mother’s perfume, now barely noticeable.
“Wha-how?” I tried to stand up but my legs felt too heavy. My mind buzzed and the world seemed to spin.
“Riona,” I heard a weak voice, “Why?” Someone seemed to be questioning me.
I heard a painful groan and turned to the side to look at another man.
“Milo?” My heart lurched, a wave of confusion and fear washing over me.
He was lying farther from all of us. His white shirt and dress coat were drenched with blood, the fabric clinging to his gut side where a single stab wound oozed dark crimson. His face twisted in pain, every breath a struggle as he tried to push himself up from the ground, his brown hair messy.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself into a sitting position, trembling as he did. His hands pressed against the floor, fingers slipping in the blood that stained everything.
He lifted his head to look at me, his gaze full of hurt and disbelief. His voice, though weak, cut through the air like a knife. “Why... why would you do this?” His words sent a chill down my spine.
I blinked, stunned, my breath catching in my throat.
What? Do this? Do what?
I didn’t understand—what was he talking about?
The question rattled in my mind, but before I could even try to respond, he attempted to sit up further, one hand extended toward me as though he needed help. Instinctively, I reached out to him, desperate to pull him closer, to help him in any way I could. But before my fingers could graze his skin, he slapped my hand away with a force that surprised me, his eyes blazing with something far worse than pain.
“Don’t touch me!” He roared, his voice echoing off the walls of the small room, filling every corner with its ferocity. “You... you monster!”
There was a sharp sting on the back of my hand, the skin turning red where he slapped me.
“Milo,” I looked at my groom. I tried to speak, to say something—anything—but no words came. I could only stare at him, mouth slightly open, “I,” My brain wasn’t keeping up.
I felt sluggish
The door creaked open behind me, and I barely registered the sound until I heard a familiar voice—Ava’s.
“What are you all doing? We’re late, the guests are—” I saw her black hair sway as she made her way in.
Her words trailed off, the lightness in her tone vanishing as she stepped into the room. I turned just in time to see her freeze in the doorway, her face shifting from confusion to dawning horror. Her dark eyes, wide and disbelieving, took in the blood, the bodies of our parents, and Milo struggling on the floor. The color drained from her face in an instant.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then, she screamed—a sound so raw, so piercing that it felt like the walls themselves shook from the force of it. It was a heart-wrenching cry that echoed down the hallways beyond the room. I flinched at the intensity of it.
Her scream brought people rushing in—first, the sound of hurried footsteps, then the frantic murmur of voices as more and more people crowded the doorway.
Gasps filled the air, horrified whispers growing louder as they took in the carnage. Some stepped back, hands covering their mouths in shock. Others stood frozen, wide-eyed and pale, unable to look away from the nightmare unfolding before them.
Ava, though, didn’t move at first. Her hand clutched the doorframe. Her gaze darted from our parents’ lifeless bodies to Milo, and then, finally, to me. The disgust in her eyes was unmistakable. Horror twisted her features, and for a moment, it was as if she didn’t even recognize me.
“No... no, this can’t be real,” She muttered under her breath, shaking her head as if willing the scene to disappear.
She snapped into action, rushing toward Milo, who groaned in pain, still clutching his bleeding side. She knelt beside him, her hands shaking as she tried to apply pressure to the wound, her face contorted with panic. She shot me a glance—one filled with disgust, fear, and confusion.
I took a step forward, desperate to reach her, to explain, to tell her I didn’t understand either. “Ava, I—”
But before I could say anything more, Milo blocked me as he stood up, his face twisted in pain and fury. He pulled Ava closer to him, taking her away from me, shielding her as if I were the threat. “Stay away from her!” He yelled through clenched teeth, his voice low and broken. His grip on her arm was tight, protective, as if he thought I would harm her, too.
I froze, my hand outstretched toward them
The people watched me, eyes full of horror, “Rio,” My sister said, “How could you do this?”
I tried to speak, but nothing coherent would come out. Words twisted in my throat, tangling with the panic rising inside me. "I... I didn’t... I don’t know what happened!" I stammered, the sound of my voice weak, barely audible over the noise of the room.
Ava’s wide, horrified eyes stayed locked on mine, and the weight of her gaze felt unbearable. "It wasn’t me... I swear... I—" I choked on the words, unable to string a proper sentence together. Everything was wrong, and I couldn’t even explain it.
"I—please, just... I don’t... I didn’t do this!" I gasped, my voice breaking as I looked around, desperate for someone, anyone, to believe me. But all I saw were faces twisted in disgust, in fear, in disbelief. Everyone’s eyes were on me—like I was some kind of monster.
Why? Why wouldn’t they believe me?
Come on!
“Why would I do this?” I asked, “W-why would I?” I asked again, “And o-on my w-wedding day???” If anyone thinks about it, it wouldn’t make any sense.
“I don’t know,” Ava shook her head while the crowd whispered, their voices harsh, like knives cutting through me, “You tell me,” There was a cold look in her eyes.
I could feel it in the way they stood, recoiling, stepping back, as if I were dangerous. As if I had done this. They stared at me like I was some twisted, bloody thing on display
My hands were still trembling, red with blood—their blood—and the sight of it made me sick. I wiped them on the gown, trying to rid myself of the stains, as if that would somehow prove I hadn’t done anything, but it only made things worse. The blood was everywhere, and no matter how much I tried to scrub it away, it clung to me
"I didn’t do this..." I whispered again. “I would never hurt them!” I cried, my voice cracking as I desperately tried to make them understand. “I don’t know how this happened, I would never—” The words tumbled out of me in a frantic rush,
But no one moved, no one reacted. The disgust in Ava’s eyes only deepened, “Then why,” She asked, her voice cold and steady, her face pale as her trembling finger poi
nted to the floor beside me, “Is there a knife covered in blood... right next to you?”