Chapter Four — Wedding Without Vows

Elara's POV

The wedding didn’t start with music or celebration. It began with a heavy suffocating silence that pressed against my ears as I stepped into the floodlit yard of the Iron Reapers’ compound. My hand was locked tightly in Ruin’s grip, and around us, engines idled in a slow, threatening rhythm. Motorcycles formed a half circle, standing like sentinels guarding a ritual older than any law.

This wasn’t a celebration. It was a warning.

Men stood shoulder to shoulder, their leather vests marked with the Iron Reapers’ insignia. Their faces were hard, unreadable. Some watched me with curiosity, others with resentment, and a few with something that chilled me to the bone—pity. That pity terrified me more than any glare or sneer ever could.

I wasn’t dressed like a bride. No white, no veil, just a simple black dress Mara had handed me minutes before, her eyes soft but full of worry.

“You stand tall,” she had whispered. “They can smell fear.”

So I did.

Ruin walked beside me, his presence overwhelming. Under the harsh lights, he looked carved from shadow—black jacket, dark jeans, and boots heavy against the concrete. His face was cold and controlled, but I could feel the tension radiating from him through our joined hands.

Every step felt like crossing a line I could never uncross.

We stopped at the centre of the yard. A barrel burnt nearby, the flames snapping sharply, casting flickering light over the crowd. At the far edge stood several unfamiliar men—cleaner, sharper, and dressed in dark coats instead of leather.

Bratva.

My stomach twisted.

One of them stepped forward. Tall. Pale. His smile was thin and knowing; that was the same man I had seen earlier near the gate.

“Nikolai Volkov,” he said smoothly, his accent thick but refined. “On behalf of our… mutual interests.”

Ruin’s jaw tightened. “You’re here to witness. Nothing more.”

Nikolai’s eyes slid to me, slow and appraising. “Of course.”

I fought the urge to shrink, to disappear or even to cry. A table was dragged forward. On it sat a knife, not ceremonial but a real one, sharp.

My breath hitched.

“This is a binding,” Nikolai said. “Blood recognises truth where words fail.”

Ruin stiffened beside me. “That wasn’t part of the agreement.”

Nikolai smiled wider. “It is now.”

Murmurs rose among the Reapers, low and dangerous.

I felt Ruin’s hand tighten around mine. “You said vows weren’t required.”

“They aren’t,” Nikolai replied calmly. “Blood is stronger.”

Fear crawled up my spine, cold and sharp.

I leaned closer to Ruin, my voice barely audible. “You said this wouldn’t hurt.”

His answer was immediate. “It won’t. Not if I can stop it.”

But Nikolai had already lifted the knife. "Mrs Cross,” he said softly. “If you would.”

The word Mrs echoed in my ears.

Ruin moved first. He released my hand and stepped in front of me, his body a solid wall. “She’s not bleeding for you.”

The compound went deathly still.

Nikolai’s smile faded, just a fraction. “Then you will.”

Before anyone could react, Ruin took the knife from the table and dragged it across his palm without hesitation.

Blood welled instantly and gasps rippled through the crowd.

I stared, heart slamming painfully against my ribs. “Ruin...”

He turned to me, eyes fierce and unwavering. “This is the only way.”

Then, gently—shockingly gently—he took my hand. “I promised,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you.”

He pressed his bleeding palm against mine, and warmth spread. His blood smeared across my skin, staining me red, and the crowd watched in rapt silence.

Nikolai inclined his head. “The bond is witnessed.”

Ruin didn’t let go immediately. His thumb brushed my knuckles, grounding and steady. “You’re safe,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.”

For a heartbeat—just one—I believed him.

Then Nikolai spoke again. “There is one final confirmation.”

My chest tightened. “What confirmation?”

Nikolai’s gaze locked onto me, sharp and invasive. “The bride must stay in the groom’s quarters tonight. Alone. No guards. No separation.”

The world tilted.

“That’s not happening. This wasn't part of the plan,” Ruin snapped.

“It must,” Nikolai replied. “Or the Bratva will assume this marriage is a lie, and you’re expected to consummate the marriage.”

The Iron Reapers shifted restlessly. Tension crackled through the air like exposed wire. Ruin’s hand trembled in mine—barely noticeable.

He leaned close, his voice low and urgent. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll sleep on the floor. I swear.”

I searched his face—terrified, furious, and confused all at once. “You promised I wouldn’t be used,” I whispered.

“I promised I wouldn’t touch you,” he corrected. “And I won’t.”

Nikolai watched us with thinly veiled amusement. “Decide quickly.”

Every instinct screamed at me to run, but there was nowhere to go. I nodded once. “Fine, I will do it."

Ruin’s eyes snapped to mine. “Elara...”

“It’s one night,” I said softly. “We survive one night.”

Something dark and protective flared in his gaze. “I won’t let anyone near you.”

Nikolai clapped once. “Then, it is done, and congratulations to you both.”

The crowd dispersed slowly, tension lingering like smoke. Men mounted bikes, engines roared to life, and the compound returned to its restless hum, but nothing felt the same. I was escorted—not by guards, but by Ruin himself—to his quarters. The room was large, stark, and masculine. A single bed dominated the space, and the door shut behind us with a final, echoing click.

There was silence everywhere.

Ruin moved immediately to the far side of the room, pulling a blanket from a chair and dropping it onto the floor. “I’ll stay here,” he said firmly. “You take the bed.”

I watched him, heart aching with exhaustion and fear. “You bled for me.”

“I’d do worse,” he replied quietly.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands still stained red. “Why?” I asked. “Why protect me like this?”

Ruin didn’t look at me. “Because once a woman is claimed in my world, she’s not disposable.”

I lay down fully clothed, staring at the ceiling. Minutes passed, and then there was a soft click.

I froze.

Ruin was on his feet instantly, body tense. “Don’t move.”

The door creaked open slowly, and Axel stepped inside.

Ruin’s voice was lethal. “You got five seconds to explain why you’re here.”

Axel’s gaze flicked to me, then back to Ruin. “We have a problem.”

“What kind?”

Axel swallowed. “The Bratva just sent proof.”

“Proof of what?”

Axel’s voice dropped. “That Elara was never meant to be your wife.”

My blood ran cold.

“She was meant to be their sacrifice.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. Ruin turned slowly toward me, his expression unreadable, and in that moment, I realised that this wedding hadn’t saved me. It had marked me.

Axel pulled out his phone and held it up. On the screen was a message along with a photo of me taken hours earlier. And beneath it, a single line of text: “Deliver the bride by sunrise… or the war begins with her blood.” This night was far from over.