The Love That Could Kill

The scent of blood no longer fazes me.

A man’s lifeless body lies sprawled across the marble floor, a deep crimson pool seeping from the hole in his skull. The bullet casing glints under the chandelier’s light, the only thing still warm in this room. His eyes are frozen open, a look of terror forever etched into his face.

I don’t flinch. I don’t turn away.

I’ve seen worse.

Cassian exhales sharply, shaking his head as he wipes his bloody knuckles on a cloth. “You’re late,” he mutters, barely sparing me a glance.

I cross my arms, my nails digging into my skin. “Didn’t know there was a deadline for watching executions.”

Cassian’s brown eyes snap to mine, sharp and irritated. “Don’t start, Riva.”

Oh, but I want to.

Cassian exhales, his patience already thinning. He reaches behind him, grabs something off the couch, and tosses it at me. The silky fabric slips through my fingers, pooling at my feet like liquid gold.

A gown.

I lift a brow, my lips curling in distaste. “What the hell is this?”

Cassian’s jaw tightens. “Your dress for tonight.”

I don’t move to pick it up. “What’s tonight?”

His gaze darkens. “You ask too many damn questions, Riva.”

I huff, shifting my weight. “And you don’t answer enough.”

Cassian doesn’t react, just flicks his wrist toward the men in the room. “Clean this up.”

I glance at the body, at the blood seeping into the cracks of the marble. My stomach twists, but not in horror. In frustration. “Why?”

Cassian sighs like I’m exhausting him. “Because we don’t leave messes.”

I cross my arms. “Then maybe stop making them.”

His eyes snap to mine, sharp and unyielding. For a moment, the room is silent, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside. Then, Cassian steps closer, his voice low and cutting.

“Put the dress on, Riva.”

A command, not a request.

I don’t argue. I don’t roll my eyes or push back like I usually do.

Instead, I pick up the gown with stiff fingers and walk out of the room.

The silk is cold against my skin as I slip it over my body, the fabric molding to me in a way that feels too delicate, too elegant—too much like something a bride would wear.

I stare at myself in the mirror, the weight in my chest growing heavier.

I don’t know what’s happening tonight. But whatever it is, I already hate it.

When I step back into the room, Cassian barely spares me a glance. He’s buttoning his cuffs, his face unreadable as he nods toward one of his men. “Get the car ready.”

I frown. “Where are we going, Cass?”

His answer is effortless, void of any real emotion.

“You’ll see.”

I hate those words.

You’ll see.

It means I have no say. No control. No way out.

Cassian doesn’t wait for me to argue—not that it would change anything. He walks past me, his cologne sharp and familiar, laced with the scent of blood and gunpowder. I follow, because what else can I do?

Outside, the night air is thick, the city humming in the distance. A sleek black car waits at the curb, engine purring like a beast ready to devour me whole. Cassian slides into the back seat, and I hesitate for half a second before sinking in beside him.

The door shuts. The locks click into place.

We move.

I glance at him, trying to read his expression, but his face is as cold as the leather beneath my fingers. “Cassian,” I press, my voice quieter now, more unsure. “Where are you taking me?”

His gaze flicks to me, dark and unreadable.

“To meet your future.”

I hate it when he speaks in parables.

Like I’m supposed to just sit here and accept whatever cryptic bullshit he throws at me. Like I don’t deserve a real answer.

My fingers curl against my lap, nails pressing into the silk of the gown. “You love talking in riddles, don’t you?”

Cassian doesn’t react, just turns his head to look out the window, his profile sharp under the passing city lights. “There’s no riddle, Riva. It’s simple.” His voice is calm, almost detached. “You have a role to play. Tonight is the first step.”

My chest tightens. “First step toward what?”

His silence is louder than any answer he could have given.

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my ears as the car moves through the city. The buildings blur together, familiar streets turning into unfamiliar ones

As the car slows, my breath catches in my throat.

I know this place.

The estate looms ahead, all towering black stone and iron gates, a fortress built to keep the world out—or trap people inside. The golden crest on the gate gleams under the streetlights, a symbol everyone in this city fears.

Rune.

Panic grips me as I turn to Cassian, my voice sharp. “Why are you taking me to Mr. Rune’s house?”

Cassian doesn’t blink. Doesn’t react to the fear curling in my chest. “You know why.”

No.

No, I don’t.

But maybe I do.

Because there’s only one reason a woman is brought to Aarav Rune’s doorstep in the dead of night, wrapped in silk like a gift.

The car glides past the gates, the mansion swallowing us whole. The sprawling estate is a fortress, its towering black gates stretching high into the night sky, lined with guards who don’t so much as blink as we pass. The building itself looms ahead, bathed in golden light, its sharp angles and endless windows giving it an air of cold, untouchable power.

My fingers curl around the fabric of my dress, the silk twisting beneath my grip. I already hate whatever’s coming next.

Cassian is ruthless, but compared to Aarav Rune? He’s an angel.

Rune isn’t just the richest mafia lord—he’s the one even the most powerful men won’t cross. He doesn’t rule with fear. He is fear. Where Cassian is calculated and cold, Rune is something else entirely. Something worse.

Because while Cassian kills out of necessity, Aarav enjoys it. While Cassian punishes those who cross him, Aarav makes sure they are erased—completely, utterly, as if they never existed in the first place.

If Jesus came in human form to save the world, then the devil did too.

And his name is Aarav Rune.

We step inside, and the sheer size of the place nearly steals my breath.

Our home is a mansion—grand, expensive, something that would make most people stop and stare.

But this?

This is a kingdom.

The foyer alone is ten times the size of ours, with towering ceilings so high they disappear into the shadows. A massive crystal chandelier hangs above, dripping with gold and diamonds, casting a warm glow over the polished black marble floors. The walls are lined with intricate gold detailing, the kind only the richest of the rich can afford.

Everything about this place screams power. Control.

And money.

More money than I’ve ever seen.

My heels click softly against the floor as we move further inside. The air smells of expensive cologne and something else—something sharp, like the lingering scent of cigars and power plays.

The halls stretch endlessly, doors leading to rooms I can’t even begin to imagine. Every inch of this estate is designed to intimidate, to remind anyone who steps inside that Aarav Rune isn’t just rich—he owns this city.

I swallow hard, my heart hammering in my chest as Cassian walks ahead, completely unaffected. Like he belongs here.

But me?

I feel like I’ve just stepped into the devil’s lair.

Five minutes feel like an eternity.

The air in the grand foyer is thick with silence, broken only by the distant ticking of a clock. Cassian stands beside me, calm and unreadable, while I shift under the weight of my own unease.

Then, the doors at the far end of the hall push open.

Aarav Rune steps into the room.

Everything about him is power.

He stands at 6'4", his muscular build filling the space with an effortless dominance. His brown hair is neatly styled, but there’s nothing soft about him. Not his sharp jawline, not the calculated way he moves, and certainly not his eyes.

Those eyes—dark, ruthless, unreadable—sweep over me like a predator assessing its prey.

He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, the crisp fabric stretching over broad shoulders, exuding wealth and control. He walks with a slow, deliberate pace, as if he has all the time in the world, as if he already owns everything in this room. Including me.

My throat tightens.

This is the man everyone fears.

The man even Cassian—cold, brutal Cassian—respects.

Aarav stops a few feet away, his gaze flicking from Cassian to me. Then, slowly, his lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile.

Then he speaks.

"Come here."

Two words. Low. Unshaken. Absolute.

My pulse stutters.

Cassian doesn’t react, doesn’t move. He’s given me to the devil, and now it’s up to me to take the final step.

Aarav watches, waiting. Expecting obedience.

My feet feel glued to the floor, but I know hesitation is a mistake. Weakness is a mistake.

Still, I don’t move.

Not yet.

Aarav tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes narrowing, amusement flickering beneath something far more dangerous.

"Don’t make me repeat myself, Riva."

My name on his lips sends a cold shiver down my spine.

And then—before I can decide what to do—he moves.

Straight for me.