Chapter 1: Tied for Life.

"Do you, Allison Blackwell, take Dontrell Blade as your husband, in sickness and health, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

“Yes, I do.” The words came out mechanically, a part of me still numb from everything that had happened. I had been kidnapped, tortured, and brought to this moment—standing before an altar, surrounded by people I barely knew, married to a man I hardly understood. 

As the priest spoke, I turned my head slightly, scanning the crowd. I searched for him. ‘Clayton’. But he wasn’t there. Where was he? Was he angry? Did he wish it were him standing beside me, taking my hand in marriage instead of his brother? 

A part of me wished he had been the one. But another part was relieved. Because Clayton, with his dark, unyielding eyes and the violent edge to his soul, was the one who had taken so much from me. ‘Dontrell’—his softer, quieter brother—had given me an escape, a way out of a life I feared would drown me. I had no choice in this marriage, but at least he wasn’t a monster like his brother.

And then, as though reading my thoughts, Dontrell smiled at me—soft, sincere—and said, "I do."

The words brought me back from the river of memories and confusion. My gaze snapped back to him, and in that moment, everything else faded. It was just us standing before the priest. The moment stretched, and I felt his presence, solid, anchoring me to the ground.

The priest stepped back with a smile. "You may kiss your bride."

As Dontrell leaned in to kiss me, the world felt like it paused. His lips met mine—warm and soft, but with an intensity that shook me to my core. The kiss felt like a slow burn—tender but with an edge of something sweet. The crowd cheered, their voices a distant echo. But it was the touch of his lips that consumed me.

I pulled away, blinking rapidly to refocus as I forced the butterflies in my tummy to die. I shifted my gaze from my groom's face to just over his shoulder, my pulse quickening as my eyes landed on Andrew, standing behind Dontrell. The same man who had been in bed with me, his dick in my mouth and my cunt in his face, just the night before the wedding. His smile looked a little too forced, yet there was still a glimmer of sincerity behind it. Had he been happy for me, or was it something else? I didn’t know. 

I tried to hold my composure, but my body betrayed me, tingling at the thought of him, our bodies entangled in a moment neither of us had ever planned for. 

Dontrell, sensing my absentmindedness, swirled me off my feet and into his arms, lifting me with ease as if I weighed nothing. The crowd clapped, and the lights of the hall danced around us. I forced myself to smile back at them from his arms, but the weight of my father's deal and this forced marriage pressed down on me.

Just as he took a few steps forward to exit the venue, Elias, one of his groomsmen and bodyguards, tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He lowered me gently to the floor, and our moment was broken. The air shifted. Embarrassment rose in my chest, but the crowd didn’t seem to notice. 

The hall suddenly stretched out in front of us, and I began taking note of the sea of guests in tuxedos and gowns, the floor beneath us a sparkling marble, reflecting the chandeliers hanging above. My father sat in the front row with Nadeem, wiping away a tear. Seeing him emotional made my skin crawl. What was the point of pretending now? You sold me off, and now you're crying? Do better.

At that moment, Doris, my one and only bridesmaid and the only person who had supported me since the night I met her at Clayton's club, swooped in from where she stood beside the altar, her hand grabbing mine in a gesture of solidarity as if she sensed my embarrassment. She began to sway with me, pulling me into a dance. 

"Thank you for stepping in," I whispered to her, grateful for her quick thinking. 

She smiled, squeezing my hand. "What are bridesmaids for if not to save the bride from awkward moments?"

"Why does it feel like he cares more about his business than me?" I asked sadly.

"Don’t sweat it; everyone knows the Blades men don’t joke with money," Doris replied, rubbing my hand gently. 

I knew that already; after all, Dontrell’s father had me kidnapped and married me off to him in his sick game of revenge and control over their dark world that my father had foolishly messed with. And now, here I am, a pawn in their twisted game of payback, trapped in a marriage I never wanted, with no way out.

I shot one look at Dontrell again, and he was still talking to his men, his back rigid as they stood around themselves, speaking in hushed tones. They quickly realized they looked out of place. To blend in, they began to sway their bodies in rhythm, making it seem like a coordinated dance between the groom, his men, and the bride with her bridesmaid. Elias and Andrew, despite tapping their feet gently, remained focused on their conversation with Dontrell, their lips still moving softly.

“He’s lost it if he ever thinks I’ll love him like he wants,” I muttered to Doris, facing her back.

“You have to; you’re his woman,” she responded.

“And he’s the son of my kidnapper." I choked out

"Shh, keep it down. Some men here are from rival gangs. If they catch wind of this, your husband could lose everything—and you could end up dead." She muttered, and I went quiet.

Their discussion went on for a few more minutes before Dontrell turned back to me. As if knowing how to play the crowd, he gently pulled me away from Doris, leaving the men behind, his arms coming around my waist possessively. Doris gracefully stepped aside as Dontrell kissed me deeply, a show meant for the watching eyes. Then, with that same smoothness, he led me toward the door, guiding me to the compound where his luxury convoy awaited—sleek, expensive cars gleaming in the soft light, ready to take us into a new chapter of my life.

The world became a blur as we made our way to the waiting cars. My mind spun with the weight of the new life. And as the car doors slammed shut behind us, I was already lost in the uncertainty of the journey ahead.

We drove for what felt like hours, the landscape flashing past, until finally, we arrived at our destination—a private airstrip, where a jet waited. The steps felt endless as we ascended into the sleek interior. The flight attendants greeted us with polite smiles, but my mind was elsewhere; all this while, Dontrell never let go of my hand. He was smiling sheepishly; he had just won a trophy by marrying me. If the circumstances surrounding our marriage weren’t that of a prey and a predator, I would have been ecstatic at the thought of having a husband who was happy to be with me. The hostess handed me a slim-fitted blue dress to change into, and I went into the Jets restroom to change.

When I got back, I sat back on the plush leather seats, trying to settle my racing thoughts, but fear kept gnawing at me. I was now Dontrell's lawfully wedded wife, and that meant he could take me wherever he wanted, even if it was here on this jet. It wasn’t my first time having sex—I’d done it a few times before my wedding. But my first experience had been a nightmare: a rape. And it wasn’t just anyone—it was Clayton, my husband’s brother. The first day he laid eyes on me, he violated me. I wasn’t sure if Dontrell knew, but back then, I wasn’t his wife yet, and I had come to learn that in the Blade family, it was common for the brothers to sleep with any woman their father abducts home. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder, if Dontrell ever found out the truth, would he fight for me? Or would he stay silent? And just as the weight of everything threatened to crush me, Dontrell’s voice broke through.

"Rest, for now, my love. We’ll be home soon, then I can show you all the peace and affection I promised you." 

And so I let my eyes flutter shut, the gentle hum of the plane lulling me into a restless sleep. It wasn’t the wedding night I had ever dreamed of, but I was glad he wasn’t forcing me to have sex just yet. 

When I woke, it was the loud announcement of our arrival by the pilot that pulled me from my dreams. I blinked, disoriented, and tired. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Dontrell was seated on the couch opposite me, packing away his laptop. The hostess moved in to assist with our bags as we prepared for landing.

“You shouldn't wear that bangle again. You're mine now," Dontrell said, his gaze locked on the beaded bracelet around my wrist, the one with ‘Allison Blackwell’ woven in black beads.

“I’ve had it all my life,” I muttered angrily, barely finding my voice.

"When you have a new life, the old one doesn’t matter," he replied coldly, slipping on his dark shades with a slow, deliberate motion. His fingers brushed over the cold steel of his gun holstered at his side, a silent reminder of his authority before he flicked an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve.

"I’m not taking it off."

“We’ll see about that," he growled, changing his previous frown to a grin, and I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of psychotic man I had been given to.