Chapter 7: Blood on White Silk  

Chandria’s POV

Chaos erupted in an instant.

Gunshots rang out from every direction, and the loud bangs echoed through the wide hall like fireworks gone horribly wrong. The guards around us scattered, pulling out their firearms as they tried to figure out where the bullets were coming from. Screams filled the air. I froze in shock, unable to move as fear crawled up my spine.

I dropped to my knees.

My ears were ringing from the sudden noise, and my heart was beating wildly inside my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I could barely think.

Then suddenly, someone screamed.

“WATCH OUT!”

I looked up, eyes wide, and everything around me blurred.

A massive chandelier was hanging by its final thread, swinging as if ready to fall at any second. My body wouldn’t move. I was frozen in place, too scared to scream or even blink.

Then it snapped.

It was falling, straight toward me.

Before it could hit me, I was shoved hard to the ground. A body crashed into mine, knocking the air out of my lungs. We rolled across the floor, my wedding dress ripping and getting stained with dirt... and blood. My hands scraped the rough surface, and my entire body ached.

When I finally looked up, the person who had saved me was none other than the man I was supposed to marry.

His face was serious, hard, eyes sharp with focus and rage. “Everyone, take cover! I’ve got this area!” he shouted to the others.

Then he grabbed my hand.

“Let’s go!” he said, pulling me to my feet.

He didn’t wait for me to answer. He was already dragging me away, his grip tight and unyielding.

“What’s happening? Why are there gunshots?” I asked, stumbling behind him, desperate for answers. But he didn’t say a word. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes looked cold and brutal.

Something about his expression made the hairs on my arms stand on end. I was trembling, barely able to keep up. My legs felt like jelly. Then suddenly, I slipped. My heels lost their grip, and I nearly hit the floor.

He turned sharply. “Chandria!” he shouted.

He caught me just in time, “Come on!”

He scooped me up into his arms. I gasped, clinging to his shoulders.

Then a gunshot.

He flinched. A sharp breath escaped his lips. Blood started seeping through his shirt. My eyes widened. “No!” I screamed, terrified. “You’ve been shot!”

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even seem to care.

“It’s nothing,” he growled under his breath.

Despite the bullet wound in his shoulder, he kept carrying me like I weighed nothing. His steps were heavy and urgent. He didn’t hesitate. He knew exactly where to go.

He carried me toward a hidden entrance and kicked open a disguised door near the far end of the hall. It led to a narrow escape tunnel. As soon as we were inside, he slammed the door shut and locked it behind us.

Everything went quiet.

The gunshots were muffled now. It was just the sound of our breathing echoing in the tight space.

He didn’t let go of my hand. His palm was warm, trembling slightly, but strong. He led me forward without a word, his eyes focused ahead.

My heart was still racing. I stared at his back, trying to process everything that just happened.

He led me into a small room at the end of the corridor. As soon as we stepped inside, he shut the door and locked it tightly behind us. Then, he turned to face me when he brought me down on the bed.

“Take off your dress.”

“What?” I blinked, thinking I misheard him.

“Remove your dress,” he repeated, this time more firm, cold, demanding, and utterly detached. “You can’t go out looking like that.”

I glanced down at myself. He was right.

My wedding gown was soaked in blood, dirt, and dust. The once-beautiful fabric clung to me, stained and tattered. I looked like I’d crawled through a war zone. Which, in a way, I had.

Still, I hesitated.

Slowly, I started to remove the dress, my hands trembling. “Please… don’t look,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I felt vulnerable, exposed. But he didn’t respond to my plea.

Instead, he stepped closer and before I could stop him, he tore the fabric open himself. I gasped, frozen in place as the torn dress slipped off my shoulders and dropped to the floor.

It exposed my cleavage, and for a brief second, I caught him staring. His jaw clenched, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. But then he looked away quickly and walked to a nearby cabinet.

He returned with a small first aid kit.

Without a word, he knelt in front of me and began inspecting my body for injuries. His hands were precise as he checked my arms, shoulders, and sides. “You have a few minor wounds,” he said quietly. “I’ll treat them.”

I didn’t say anything. My throat felt dry. I could only watch him as he worked, feeling a strange mix of confusion and warmth.

“You’re used to this kind of thing?” I finally asked, unable to hide the concern in my voice.

He looked up at me for the first time. “This is nothing,” he said simply, then paused. “I’ve seen far worse.”

That answer didn’t comfort me. It only made my chest tighten more.

“Who are you, really?” I asked. “Why were people shooting at us? What’s going on?”

He exhaled sharply, as if finally deciding to stop hiding.

“My name is Aiden,” he said, locking eyes with me. “I’m a Mafia Lord.”

The words hit me like a slap. My eyes widened in shock, and chills ran down my spine. “What…?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yes. And the reason I know you is because of your husband, Daniel.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My entire world tilted sideways.

I was still nearly naked, my body trembling slightly as he continued cleaning and dressing my wounds. He was careful not to hurt me, but I couldn’t stop staring at him.

He shrugged off his coat, revealing a strong, muscular body underneath his torn dress shirt. Compared to me, he looked like a soldier.

For a moment, we were both silent, the tension in the room growing thicker.

I felt the heat rising inside me. It wasn’t just fear anymore. It was confusion, shame… and something else I couldn’t name. My breath caught in my throat as our eyes met.

I bit my lip.

His eyes flickered to my mouth. He groaned softly under his breath and suddenly stood up, walking away like he needed space.

Then there was a knock on the door.

He opened it just a crack.

A man stood outside and said urgently, “Lord Serpent. We confirmed it. Daniel Collins orchestrated the attack. He’s trying to take Ma’am Chandria back.”

My heart dropped.