Bloodbath

Elena, Age 24

I couldn’t stop smiling.

The mirror reflected everything I’d ever dreamed of me, wrapped in white silk and lace, glowing with the kind of joy I never knew was possible.

The dress fit like it was made just for me. Every tiny detail shimmered with promise.

Six years. That’s how long it had taken for Hunter and me to reach this moment. Six years of loving him, choosing him, and now, marrying him.

“You’re really going to Maldives, huh?” Mia’s voice burst into the room, her face alight with excitement as she leaned against the doorway.

Her big blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’ve only mentioned it a hundred times.”

“Try a thousand,” I teased. “But yes, Maldives. Sunsets, ocean air, and no one around but the love of my life. It’s going to be perfect.”

“You are perfect,” she said, walking over to inspect the dress. “Seriously. I knew this one was it. The moment you tried it on, I saw the look on your face.”

She blinked fast, and I realized her eyes were glistening.

“Mia,” I whispered, tugging her into a hug.

She clung to me tightly. “You’ve always been the strong one. You deserve a fairy tale.”

“You’ve been my fairy tale,” I murmured into her hair. “My best friend. My little sister.”

“Ugh, stop, or I’ll cry all over your dress.”

We broke apart just as our mom stepped in, elegant and composed as always. Her eyes shimmered too. “My girls,” she breathed, wrapping us both in her arms.

“I can’t believe this day is real,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

Mom smiled. “It’s more than real. Come on, sweetheart. It’s time.”

As we left the room, I took one last glance at my reflection. I’d never felt more whole.

The house was alive with laughter and clinking glasses, the garden twinkling with fairy lights and the scent of fresh roses.

It was everything I wanted, intimate, warm, unforgettable.

We made our way toward the stairs. Mom darted ahead, saying Dad was a bundle of nerves and needed her to keep him from combusting.

I grinned. My parents, after nearly three decades together were still madly in love. That’s what I wanted. What I was about to have.

I reached for Mia’s hand as we prepared to descend but before I could take a step, someone slammed into me from the side.

A sharp tearing sound followed.

I gasped, looking down.

A section of my dress had ripped.

“Oh hell no!” Mia shouted, already sprinting back to the room. “I’ve got thread. I’ll fix it in a couple of minutes!”

Before I could recover, a voice cut through the chaos. Smooth. Deep. Intrigued.

“Easy there, fairy.”

I froze.

Slowly, I turned to face the source of the voice.

He stood a few feet away, watching me like a hawk. No, not a hawk, something far more dangerous.

His tailored suit hugged a body built from power, and his face… it was all sharp edges and cold beauty. Ice-blue eyes.

A cruel mouth. Confidence that practically slithered.

I couldn’t move.

He took a slow step forward, and that intoxicating scent, leather, spice, and something darker hit me like a storm.

“I hope I didn’t ruin your dress,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “That would be such a shame.”

He sounded Spanish, but there was a flicker of something else, Brazil Portuguese, maybe? It made my head spin.

“I—uh…” I stammered, completely off balance.

He tilted his head. “Speechless, are we?”

My throat worked, but no sound came out.

He stepped closer. I tried to retreat, but his hand shot out and gently caught my arm. The touch was firm but not rough. Still, it sent a jolt through me.

His gaze dropped to my lips, then returned to my eyes. “Let’s hope the rest of your day goes smoother than this,” he said softly, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

Mia returned seconds later, breathless. “What the hell just happened? You look like you saw a ghost.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

My mind was still reeling from the stranger. The way he looked at me. Like he knew me.

Or wanted to.

We descended the stairs and found Dad waiting at the bottom, smiling nervously.

“You ready, my angel?” he asked.

I nodded, forcing the tension out of my shoulders. “More than ready.”

We stepped out into the garden. Music played. The guests stood. And at the altar stood Hunter, my safe place. My heart.

He smiled when he saw me, his eyes warm and full of love.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered when I reached him.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I teased, trying to shake the unease crawling up my spine.

The ceremony began. Our vows flowed like poetry. We laughed. We cried. And when the priest declared us husband and wife, Hunter cupped my face and kissed me like the world had stopped turning.

And maybe, for a second, it had.

Time stilled.

The breeze hushed, the music softened, the world held its breath.

Then—

A crack split the air. Sharp. Violent.

Like the sky itself had shattered.

Gunshot!

Hunter jerked. His body tensed, then staggered. His smile vanished. Confusion flashed in his eyes.

And then...

Red bloomed across his chest.

Blood.

So much blood.

Hot, dark, and spreading like ink in water.

My breath caught in my throat.

No. No, no, no.

He looked at me. Reached for me.

And the light in his eyes began to dim.

“No,” I whispered, grabbing him as he staggered back.

Another shot.

He collapsed.

Chaos erupted. Screams tore through the garden as guests scattered.

I dropped to my knees, cradling Hunter’s body. Blood soaked through his shirt and onto my hands. His mouth moved, but no words came out.

“Stay with me,” I begged. “Please. Please, Hunter!”

More screams. More bodies hit the ground.

I looked up and froze.

Mia. A man had a knife pressed to her throat.

Before I could reach her, a hand yanked me back. Something cold and metallic pressed against my temple.

“Move, and everyone dies,” someone hissed.

I stood still, heart thundering, eyes scanning for my parents.

They were bound. Gagged. Struggling helplessly.

“Please,” I cried. “Don’t hurt them. Please don’t hurt my family.”

Then I heard him again.

The voice.

Chilling. Controlled. Amused.

“You’re willing to beg, Zoey?”

I blinked. “What… what did you call me?”

He stepped into view and my blood ran cold.

“You heard me,” he said.

The same man from earlier.

Only now, the smirk was gone. In its place was something ruthless.

“Please,” my father choked out, his voice fraying at the edges. “What do you want? Whatever, name it.”

His eyes were locked on mine, brimming with helplessness and love, as if he was already grieving the things he knew he couldn’t save.

“You're offering me anything? I want everything.”

He nodded.

“No!” I screamed. “No, please, don’t—!”

Gunshots.

My parents crumpled. Blood pooling beneath them.

And Mia?

Her scream never came.

Only a gurgle as the knife slid across her throat.

Time fractured. I tried to run, to scream, to fight, but pain exploded at the back of my skull.

As I collapsed, vision blurring, his voice was the last thing I heard.

“Bag her.”