Chapter 2

The weeks leading up to their wedding unfolded like a dream balanced on the edge of a blade. Invitations were whispered, passed hand to hand like secrets too delicate to be spoken aloud. Only a chosen few were called. Sajah kept the guest list tight, wary of every shadow, every whisper in the dark.

Sophia pressed her lips thin at each arrangement, her silence sharp enough to cut. Love, she seemed to believe, could be questioned, delayed, even smothered—but not contained.

At night, when the mansion fell silent and the world outside slept, Sajah and Kira planned in hushed voices. They spoke not only of flowers and vows but of escape routes through hidden doors, safe houses in far-off cities, contingency plans that sounded more like war maps than wedding preparations.

It was not the language of ordinary lovers.

It was the language of survival.

One night, sprawled across his bed, tangled in his sheets, Kira rested her head against Sajah’s chest. The steady beat of his heart was the only sound in the stillness. His fingers trailed up and down her spine with a gentleness that betrayed the storm he carried in the daylight.

“Kira,” he murmured, tilting her chin so their eyes met. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

Her breath caught, but her answer was steady. She traced the sharp line of his jaw, her fingertips trembling yet sure. “Yes. Even if the world burns around us, I will not breach this vow.”

Something shifted in his gaze. The fire that had always burned there softened, deepened. His arms tightened around her, caging her in as though she were his last refuge.

“Then let it burn,” he whispered against her lips. “The fire won’t destroy us—it will forge us stronger.”

Their kiss was a seal, slow and consuming, binding them long before the rings would.

⸻

The wedding dawned beneath a sky torn between sunlight and storm. Clouds curled at the edges of heaven, threatening to break, while shafts of gold light pierced through as if heaven itself could not decide whether to bless or curse this union.

The chapel Sajah had chosen was hidden high in the hills, its stone walls worn with centuries, its stained-glass windows fractured into colors that painted the air in trembling light. It was beautiful, but more importantly—it was secluded.

Inside a quiet room, Kira stepped into her gown. A river of silk clung to her frame, flowing with every breath she drew. Pearls crowned her hair, fragile signatures of purity against the woman she had become. As she caught her reflection in the mirror, a lump rose in her throat.

Gone was the girl who once wandered halls with grief heavy in her chest. This was not that lost, broken child. This was a woman about to sign her life to a man who had already claimed her soul.

The door creaked open. Sophia entered, her steps soft but her presence sharp. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she moved forward, her hands unexpectedly tender as she adjusted Kira’s veil.

“You look… breathtaking,” Sophia whispered, though her eyes glittered with unspoken warnings. “Be strong, Kira. Love is a dangerous contract. Once sealed, there is no undoing.”

Kira’s throat tightened, but she forced a smile. “I don’t want undoing.”

Sophia’s lips pressed thin, yet she bent and kissed Kira’s forehead all the same. A benediction—or a warning.

⸻

The chapel was hushed when Kira entered, her veil shimmering as she walked the aisle. Guests—few but powerful—watched in silence, their gazes heavy with curiosity, envy, calculation.

But Kira saw only one man.

Sajah stood at the altar, clad in a black suit that gleamed faintly beneath the fractured glow of the stained glass. His eyes never wavered. They locked on her from the first step and did not let go, steady and unyielding as if each beat of his heart kept time with her steps.

When she reached him, the storm outside growled, thunder rattling the old stone. Heaven itself seemed to lean in to witness.

The priest’s voice rose, solemn and grave, each word an incantation of permanence, a binding clause neither law nor blood would dare to challenge.

Sajah slid the ring onto her finger, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “This is my sealing clause, Kira. With this, I bind every breath, every battle, every scar to you.”

Her tears fell freely as she answered, her hand trembling as she placed the ring on his finger. “And I, Sajah, sign myself to you. In light, in shadow, in eternity.”

Their lips met. The kiss was fire itself—hungry, desperate, unyielding. The guests rose, their applause rustling like leaves in the wind, fragile and fleeting compared to the storm roaring outside.

For a heartbeat, the world was whole.

For a heartbeat, their love seemed untouchable.

⸻

But contracts always attract enemies.

The chapel doors slammed open.

Armed men stormed the aisle, black suits glinting with steel. The priest stumbled back, guests screamed, and shadows flooded the sacred space.

Sajah’s bodyguards reacted instantly, guns drawn, but Sajah himself was faster. He pulled Kira behind him, shielding her with his body, his voice booming across the chaos like thunder itself:

“Who dares breach this vow?”

A tall figure stepped forward, framed by lightning. His laughter rang out, jagged and cruel.

“You thought you could sign yourself away in secret, Sajah? You thought the underworld would let you bind your heart so easily?”

His gun rose, gleaming cold in the fractured light. Guests froze, the air thick with terror. Kira’s breath hitched, her fingers clutching Sajah’s arm like her last anchor.

The wedding clause had been signed—

but already, the ink was smeared with blood.