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THE BLOOD VOW
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2025-10-16 02:43:12The whisper jolted Elena upright.
“Elena… don’t make a sound. I’m here to get you out.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She crouched close to the wall, voice trembling.
“Who are you?”
“A friend of your father’s,” came the hissed reply. “But you must listen. De Luca plans something called the Blood Vow. It’s not marriage—it’s worse. It binds you to him before his men. Don’t let him mark you.”
Elena pressed her palm to the wall, as if she could reach through it.
“How do I stop it?”
“You can’t. Not now. But when the moment comes, stall him. I’ll be there.”
Footsteps thundered in the corridor. The whisper vanished. Elena darted back to the bed just as the door opened.
Alessandro entered, flanked by two guards. His black shirt was buttoned to the throat this time, his expression unreadable.
“You’ve had visitors?” he asked quietly.
Her pulse jumped. “Visitors? I don’t know what you mean.”
“Good answer.” He motioned for the guards to leave. When the door closed, his eyes pinned her in place. “You’re learning.”
He moved to the window, staring out at the gray sky. “Your father is still missing. My patience is not infinite.”
“Maybe he’s dead,” she said before she could stop herself.
He turned, eyes glinting like steel. “If he is, his bloodline still breathes. Which means his debt remains.”
Elena’s hands curled into fists. “You can’t own me.”
“Ownership is a choice, cara mia. Some resist, some embrace it. You’ll understand after tonight.”
“What happens tonight?”
“You’ll see.”
He left without another word, the door slamming behind him. The lock clicked, and the sound echoed like a verdict.
Hours crawled by. The sky darkened, thunder muttering in the distance. When the door opened again, the same woman from before appeared.
“Dress,” she said simply, setting down a dark gown trimmed with silver.
Elena hesitated. “What is this?”
“Tradition,” the woman replied. “Disobedience will only make it worse.”
The gown fit like armor—heavy, suffocating, beautiful in a cruel way. When the woman returned, two guards waited. They escorted Elena through long, candle-lit corridors that smelled of smoke and iron.
At the end stood massive doors carved with lions devouring crowns—the same emblem she’d seen on the scarred man’s ring.
The doors swung open.
Inside, men in suits lined the walls, silent and watchful. A table stood at the center with a single silver goblet. The air tasted of copper and secrets.
Alessandro waited near the head of the table, sleeves rolled back, a small knife glinting in his hand.
“Elena Romano,” he said, voice steady. “Daughter of betrayal. Do you know why you’re here?”
“To be humiliated,” she spat.
A flicker of amusement touched his mouth. “To be remembered.”
He sliced a shallow line across his palm. A drop of blood fell into the goblet. He gestured toward her.
“Your turn.”
Elena froze. “No.”
“If you refuse,” he said softly, “I’ll make the vow alone. And when your father returns, he’ll find the De Luca crest carved over your name.”
Her breath shook. Every eye in the room was on her. She could feel the heat of their gaze, the weight of power pressing down. Slowly, she reached for the knife.
A crash split the silence. One of the side doors burst open.
A man stumbled in, dirt-streaked and wild-eyed—the same voice from the wall.
“Don’t do it, Elena! He’s lying—your father’s alive!”
Chaos erupted. Guards drew weapons. Alessandro spun, his expression hardening into fury.
Elena’s fingers slipped; the knife clattered to the floor.
“Take him,” Alessandro barked.
Two guards seized the intruder, but not before he shouted again:
“He’s in Palermo! He never betrayed you, De Luca—someone else did!”
For a heartbeat, everything froze. Alessandro’s gaze snapped to Elena, unreadable and dark.
“Palermo?” he repeated.
“I don’t know anything!” Elena cried. “I swear!”
He stepped closer, voice a whisper that cut deeper than any blade.
“Then tonight’s vow will reveal the truth.”
He lifted the goblet, crimson liquid swirling inside, and pressed it into her shaking hands.
“Drink,” he commanded.
Elena stared at the blood reflecting the firelight, her pulse pounding in her ears. Outside, thunder cracked like a warning.
She looked from the goblet to the door where the intruder struggled, to Alessandro’s unyielding eyes—
—and then the candles flickered out.
A single candle sputtered back to life, its thin flame shaking in the draft.
Elena clutched the goblet, every nerve alive with panic.
“Stay still,” Alessandro ordered, his voice low and lethal.
The guards shifted, uncertain. One of them called out that the intruder had escaped through the side corridor.
Alessandro’s jaw tightened. “Seal every exit.”
The men hurried out, leaving the two of them alone in the wavering light.
“You planned this,” he said. “Your father sent him.”
“No!” she cried. “I didn’t even know—”
“You always know.”
He took a step toward her, and for the first time she saw something behind his fury—confusion, maybe even doubt. The words Palermo still hung in the air between them like a curse neither could swallow.
“If your father is alive,” Alessandro murmured, almost to himself, “then someone in my house has betrayed me.”
Elena’s breath hitched. “Then look for your traitor somewhere else.”
Their eyes locked. For a moment, the room was utterly still except for the distant roll of thunder. Then Alessandro reached for the goblet again.
“Whether your father lives or dies,” he said, “you’ll finish what was started.”
The door behind them creaked open—slow, deliberate. A cold wind swept through, snuffing the candle.
From the darkness came a quiet voice, neither guard nor servant.
“Don’t move, Don De Luca. We need the girl.”
Metal clicked; a weapon was cocked.
Thunder cracked once more, and the mansion plunged into chaos
Darkness swallowed the room.
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