Vows written in blood

Watch this,” I said, my voice steady as I stepped onto the stage in that blood-red gown. The spotlight hit me hard. Two hundred of the most influential people in the room turned my way.

I tapped the tablet once.

The giant screens behind me exploded. Bank records. Contracts. Photos of dead bodies. Every dirty secret stamped with the Volkov name.

Gasps ripped through the ballroom. Someone dropped a champagne glass. It shattered loud against the marble floor.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I spoke into the mic, letting the words cut sharp, “tonight we stop pretending. Luciano Volkov isn’t some respected businessman. He’s a killer, and his family has spilled enough innocent blood.”

My eyes found him immediately.

Luciano Volkov stood dead center in the crowd, tall and still in his black tuxedo. Those cold eyes locked on mine. No panic. No shouting. Just that slow, dangerous tilt of his head like he was already planning how to make me pay.

“You’ve got some nerve, Seraphina,” a voice boomed from the side. One of his captains. “This peace gala was supposed to end the fighting.”

“Peace?” I laughed, short and bitter. “Your boss’s family murdered my mother. There is no peace until every Volkov pays for what they...”

Murmurs grew louder. People shifted in their seats. I could feel the tension climbing, thick enough to choke on.

Then the lights flickered.

Once. Twice.

A single gunshot cracked through the air.

Screams erupted everywhere. I dropped low behind the podium as more shots rang out. Masked men in black gear burst through every door, weapons raised. Bullets tore into the crowd. A senator seated three feet from the stage jerked backward, blood spraying across his white shirt.

“Get down!” someone yelled.

I tried to run for the side exit. My heel caught on the stage edge and I stumbled. Another explosion rocked the building. The blast threw me forward. Heat blasted my back. Glass from the chandeliers rained down like knives.

Strong hands grabbed me from behind, yanking me hard against a solid chest. A man’s voice growled right next to my ear.

“Move, damn it!”

I twisted, ready to fight, but more gunfire cut off any chance. The stranger dragged me toward the service door as the second blast hit. Smoke filled my lungs. My ears rang so loud I could barely hear the chaos.

We burst into a narrow hallway. I finally got a good look at him.

Luciano Volkov.

Of course it was him.

“Let go of me!” I snapped, trying to pull my arm free. My heart hammered against my ribs.

He didn’t loosen his grip. “You started this, Seraphina. Now shut up and run if you want to live.”

We pushed through a side exit into the pouring rain. His black car waited with the engine running. Two of his men stood guard, guns drawn.

Luciano shoved me into the backseat and climbed in right after. The doors slammed shut. The car peeled out fast, tires screaming on wet asphalt.

I lunged for the opposite door handle.

His hand shot out and slammed it closed. In the next breath he had me pinned against the leather seat, his forearm pressed across my chest. Rain streaked down the windows. London lights blurred past us.

“You really thought you could humiliate me in front of everyone and walk away clean?” he said, voice low and rough. His face was inches from mine. I could see the rain dripping from his dark hair.

“I thought I’d finally make you pay for what your family,” I shot back, breathing hard. “Don’t act like your hands are clean, Volkov.”

He laughed once, cold. “My hands? Your precious DeLorenzo empire has just as much blood. But right now someone else is trying to kill us both. You feel that?”

Another explosion echoed in the distance behind us. Sirens wailed closer.

I glared at him, chest tight. “If this is some trick…”

“It’s not.” His eyes bored into mine. “You just placed a target on both our backs. Congratulations.”

The car swerved hard around a corner. I grabbed his arm without thinking. For a second neither of us moved. Hate burned between us, hot and alive. His body pressed against mine felt too solid, too real.

I hated it.

I hated how part of me didn’t want him to pull away.

“Get off me,” I whispered.

He held on a moment longer, then slowly sat back. But his stare never left my face.

My ruined red gown clung to my skin. Rain and smoke and someone else’s blood stained everything. The city lights flashed across Luciano’s sharp features as we sped through the night.

I had come to destroy him.

Now we were trapped in the same car, running from the same bullets.

And I had no idea who had just turned my perfect plan into a bloodbath.

The phone in his pocket buzzed. He glanced at the screen, jaw tight.

“What is it?” I demanded.

He turned the screen toward me. A message glowed there.

Both families will burn tonight. The Swan sends its regards.

Luciano looked at me, eyes dark.

“Looks like your little show just invited a bigger monster to the party, Seraphina.”

Before I could answer, the car jolted violently. Gunfire erupted again from behind us. Bullets pinged off the armored doors.

“Drive faster!” Luciano barked.

I gripped the seat, heart racing as more shots rang out in the rain.

We weren’t safe.

Not even close.