THE DEVILS BRIDE

Serena’s POV

“SERENA! Get down here before I come upstairs and drag you myself!”

My mother’s voice echoed through the house.

I closed my eyes and took a slow breath. Another morning, another argument. At this point, I was beginning to wonder whether peace was something other people were born with and I had simply missed out on.

I pushed myself out of bed and looked at the faint marks on my wrist. I quickly pulled the sleeve of my oversized sweatshirt over them.

My mother, Evelyn Hayes, had always been unpredictable. Some days, she ignored me as if I didn’t exist. On others, she found a reason to remind me how much she regretted having me.

I had stopped asking why years ago.

When I reached the kitchen, I found her sitting at the counter beside a man I had never seen before. An empty bottle rested between them.

“Look who finally decided to join the living,” she muttered.

I ignored her and opened the refrigerator.

Nothing.

Not even milk.

“Is there anything to eat?” I asked.

The man laughed under his breath. “Maybe you should learn to be grateful for the roof over your head.”

I turned to face him.

“And perhaps you should learn not to comment on things that have nothing to do with you.”

His smile disappeared.

My mother slammed her glass against the counter.

“Watch your mouth, Serena!”

I stared at her. For one foolish second, I wished she would defend me. Not because I needed her permission to stand up for myself, but because some part of me still wanted a mother who cared.

That part of me was becoming harder to find.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

“Somewhere I don’t have to listen to you.”

I barely made it outside before she shouted something after me. I kept walking.

The morning air was cold, and the streets were unusually quiet. I loved mornings like this because, for a little while, I could pretend my life was ordinary.

But my life had never been ordinary.

My father, Richard Hayes, had been a powerful man. People respected him, feared him, and sometimes crossed the street to avoid him. He had died when I was fourteen, leaving behind a fortune, a family name, and secrets no one was willing to explain.

My mother claimed he had been a businessman.

I knew better.

Two years before his death, I had overheard him speaking to a man about weapons, territory, and a debt that could never be repaid with money.

I had never forgotten that conversation.

At school, I slipped into my seat near the back of the classroom and put on my headphones. I wanted one peaceful day.

Apparently, the universe found that request amusing.

The classroom door opened, and the noise died almost instantly.

A tall young man entered with two men dressed in dark suits behind him. His black hair was neatly styled, his expression unreadable, and his eyes carried the kind of coldness that made people reconsider their next words.

He looked around the room as though he owned it.

Then his gaze settled on me.

I frowned.

What was his problem?

He approached my desk, stopping close enough that I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes.

“Serena Hayes?”

I removed one headphone. “Depends who’s asking.”

One of the men behind him shifted, but the stranger raised a hand to stop him.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“Adrian Blackwood.”

The name meant nothing to me at first.

Then I remembered the stories my father had once told in a voice so quiet I had to lean closer to hear them.

The Blackwoods.

One of the most feared families in the country.

I stood slowly. “What do you want?”

Adrian studied me for a moment.

“Your father left something unfinished.”

“My father is dead.”

“I know.”

“Then whatever unfinished business he had is none of mine.”

His smile vanished.

“I’m afraid it became yours the moment he died.”

Before I could answer, he placed a black envelope on my desk.

My name was written across the front in silver ink.

I opened it with trembling fingers.

Inside was a photograph of my father standing beside Adrian’s father. Beneath it was a single sheet of paper bearing my father’s signature.

I read the first line.

Then the second.

By the third, my entire world had tilted.

My father had promised my hand in marriage to the Blackwood heir.

Adrian watched as the colour drained from my face.

“You have got to be joking,” I whispered.

“I rarely joke about business.”

I looked up at him, anger replacing my shock.

“You think I’ll marry you because two dead men made an agreement?”

“No,” he replied calmly. “I think you’ll marry me because refusing may cost you far more than your freedom.”

He turned towards the door.

“Your family will explain everything tonight.”

I crushed the paper in my fist.

“And if I refuse to attend?”

Adrian paused without turning around.

“Then I’ll come back for you myself.”

The door closed behind him.