Blood Vengeance; a mafia romance story

Azaeres—power, dominance, cruelty, forged in the name of loyalty. A name I can’t wait to get rid of. A name feared by many, but behind closed doors, a lot unravels.

"I object."

I wince, my head shaking, I still can't believe I just heard these words during my wedding ceremony. I turn my head in the direction of the voice, and my worst fears are confirmed.

A voice I can recognize anywhere—Xena, my stepsister.

"I am two weeks pregnant with Damien." Audible gasps fill the hall.

My stomach tightens, my body tenses, while she walks towards the aisle.  Goosebumps spread across my body. This can't be happening right now.

"What?" I stammer when she reaches the aisle.

"You heard me right," she smirks.

"Damien?"

I turn my focus towards him, hoping for an explanation, but he avoids my gaze. He needs to speak up, fight for our love, and deny this, but he doesn’t. My chest tightens, my hands feel clammy, and anxiety almost gets the best of me.

"Damien—"

"It's not our fault that you took after your mother. Neither of you can keep a man," Xena interjects.

My palm lands on her cheek before I can restrain myself.

"Zolandria," my dad bellows, his tone signaling caution.

"Are you okay?" Damien asks Xena.

I stand and watch while he gives my stepsister his attention as if we weren't supposed to be getting married right now.  This can’t be real. No. He didn’t. My throat burns as parts of my heart chip away as the seconds go by.

"Damien, what's going on?"

"Zoe—"

"No, you've lost the right to call me that," I hiss.

"Don't make a scene, you've done enough."

He says while looking around with a forced smile. Unbelievable. Definitely didn't hear correctly, right? Of all the things he could say this moment, he chose to make it worse?

"What—".

Gathering my ball gown in my hands, I take a couple of steps back, turn, and rush quickly out of the hall. With every step I take further from the aisle, the deeper the dagger of betrayal pierces into my soul. Footsteps trail behind me, but I don't stop till I enter the nearest room I come across. The door opens, and my family and Damien enter.

“I don't want to hear it," I caution.

"Zolandria!" My Dad hits his hand on the table.

"Don't." I counter. I have never been one to speak back, but this is the height of it.

"Watch it, lady."

Great. The great Azaeres wants to assert dominance. He’ll definitely side with Xena and her mom. It’s been like this for as long as I can remember. Everything changed after my mom passed. He became distant, remarried, and then cast me aside.

“My wedding gets ruined in the cruelest way possible, and this is it?” I hesitate.

“It would cost you nothing to console me. But then, when was the last time you acted as my father?”

Smack

My cheek. It stings. Eyes wide. My heart breaks further. Can the day get any worse? This is the first time he has ever lifted a finger against me.  I laugh in disbelief.

“Well, I think I should get married to Damien since I’m with his child,” Xena smirks. Her hand on her belly as if she’s carrying royalty and not deceit.

“I second. A child out of wedlock is bad for business.” Lena, Xena’s Mom, adds.

“I know.” My dad grits. “Damien must marry Xena,” his tone sounding like he had just closed a deal with another mafia.

“What about me?!” I force the words out as my throat tightens.      

“Get over it. Stop being weak. My decision is final. If you can’t abide by it, you’re free to leave.”

I stare at him, wide-eyed, and realization dawns on me. There’s no place for me here. This is no longer my home. Cold sweats break on my skin while I take in shallow breaths.

The last hope I have of being freed of this family name slips away, and Damien? He doesn’t even put up a fight. My Damien would have said something; he would’ve fought for our love.

“Xena, get changed and meet Damien at the altar in 5 minutes. Damien, follow me,” my dad orders and walks out with Xena and Lena trailing behind him. Damien spares me one last glance and follows.

No apology. No explanation.

Nothing.

I collapse on the floor, bawling my eyes out the moment the door closes. My wedding is destroyed, my father is against me, and my fiancé?  Stolen by my stepsister. I have to leave. I can’t stay here another second.

I dash to my room down the hallway and fling open my closet. The mirror catches me mid-motion while I reach for an outfit— I halt.

Staring back at me is a broken bride, face ruined with makeup, lips trembling. The ball gown I always dreamed of now pools around me like filth. This was supposed to be my dream wedding.

Enough.

I rip the gown off and change. Grabbing my phone and purse, I storm out to the security post to wait for the ride I just booked.

“Zoe, where are you off to. If I may ask?” Matthew, our oldest guard, who has watched me grow up, asks softly.

“Matthew, I’ll miss you so much. Take care.” I whisper as I hug him.

My ride pulls up, and as we leave, I can’t help but glance at the vast estates and all the memories that I am leaving behind. Perhaps, for the last time. I know I am not leaving scot-free; there is always a catch with the Azaeres family.

As the city fades behind us, I sink further into the seat, AirPods in, music blasting while my thoughts spiral. How did this happen? Did I overlook any signs? I can’t help but reminisce about all the love I shared with Damien. All the promises to love and cherish each other forever are broken now, and my chest hurts.

The driver takes the highway out of town, steering towards the tunnel into the next city. The night sky looms.  Halfway through, the car halts suddenly, throwing me forward.

“Ma’am”, the driver hesitates, “you should see this.”

I peer ahead. Four black cars and two motorcycles block the exit.

A chill slices through me. I feel nauseous.

“Turn. Quickly,” I urge.

“I…I can’t.”  His knuckles whiten on the wheel. My chest tightens. He jerks his chin towards the rearview mirror. I twist around. More vehicles block the way behind us; my skin prickles.

The motorcycles roar to life, their headlights blazing as they come forward. Two riders clad in black from helmet to boots pull up beside us. One raises a gun, tapping against the window, motioning at the driver to unlock the car. My heart sinks into my stomach.

“Who are you guys, and what do you want?” They don’t look like any of my dad's men. The rider nearest to me tilts his head. His voice is low, muffled by the helmet.

“We advise that you come with us quietly.”

“I am not going anywhere till you give me answers.” I counter, despite my insides crumbling.

He shrugs, almost casually. “Then I am sorry.”

“What do you mean—”

A rough cloth presses over my nose and mouth.  I freeze. The sharp chemical sting burns my nostrils. I thrash, clawing at gloved hands, but the strength drains from my body too quickly.

Eyelids heavy, I welcome darkness.

I can’t tell how long I have been out for, but when I flatter my eyes open, I’m in a dimly lit room filled with the scent of a cigar. My head throbs. My vision is blurry, but sitting in my line of vision is a man whose demeanor screams power.

“Zolani Azaeres. Betrayed on the altar, cast aside by family. Pathetic.” He mocks.

“Who are you?” My throat tightens.

He leans forward, an evil smirk tugging at his lips. “An enemy of your family, but I can be your ally.”

“I’m still an Azaeres,” I mutter, clinging to the last pride I have.

He chuckles, low and sharp. “Doesn’t matter, we both want one thing—vengeance. Help me destroy your family, and you’ll have your revenge.”

“And if I don’t?”

His eyes darken. “You are weaker than they thought, then. I don’t plan to set you free whether you cooperate or not,” he says, rising, towering over me, already walking away.

“Wait. What’s the catch?”

“I don’t repeat myself. Deal?”

I hesitate. “Deal”

“Good girl,” his smirk widens, but there’s no warmth in it.

“Who are you?” I mutter.

“You should have asked before you made a deal with the devil.”

His smirk is the last thing I see as the door shuts—leaving me with one truth: I have just signed my life away.