Vows Of Vengeance

ELENA'S POV.

“Do you take Nicholas Callahan to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The officiant’s voice sliced through the heavy silence, the words like a guillotine poised to fall.

My throat tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. It felt as if the walls of the room were closing in, the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes pressing down on me. I could feel my father’s gaze from across the aisle—pleading, regretful. Beside him, my mother’s face was stiff, her lips drawn into a thin line, while my younger brother stared down at his shoes, unable to look at me. They all knew what this was—what I had agreed to. A desperate bargain to stave off ruin, with me as the price.

I turned my gaze to Nicholas, standing tall and composed at my side. His dark hair was perfectly in place, and his chiseled features betrayed no hint of emotion, only a cold detachment. But his eyes—they were another story. There was something hard and unforgiving in them, something that promised this marriage was not just a contract but a sentence. The air between us seemed to crackle, a silent storm coiling just beneath the surface.

“I do,” I whispered. The words felt like stones dropping from my lips, heavy and final. The officiant’s nod was a mere formality. Nicholas’s mouth curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, a dark gleam lurking there that made my skin prickle.

He took my hand with a grip that was firm, almost possessive, and slid the ring onto my finger with excruciating slowness, as if savoring the moment. The metal was cold against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat rising in my chest. As the ring settled into place, I felt a part of me slip away, swallowed by the growing darkness that seemed to close in around me.

“Welcome to your new reality, Elena,” Nicholas murmured, his breath grazing my ear. A shiver coursed down my spine, but I couldn’t pull away. His hand tightened around mine, keeping me anchored, held. Trapped.

The guests broke into polite applause, the sound hollow and distant, as if coming from another world. My father approached, his steps hesitant, his eyes full of sorrow as he reached for my hand. “I’m sorry, my angel,” he said. “I never wanted this for you.”

“I’ll be okay, Dad.” I forced a small smile, but even as the lie left my lips, I could feel myself unraveling. I wasn’t okay. I was falling—plunging into a darkness with no end in sight.

Nicholas’s voice cut through the moment, cold and edged with a mocking amusement. “You should thank your father,” he said, his gaze drifting lazily between us. “He’s the one who put you in my hands.” His tone carried a cruel edge, and he added, “Isn’t that right… Dad?”

The word hung in the air, a taunt that sliced deep. My father’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. There was nothing he could say. Nicholas’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, as if relishing the sight of my father’s silent helplessness.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, each moment slipping away like grains of sand through my fingers. I drifted through the reception like a ghost, my mind a tangled web of dread and uncertainty. I could feel Nicholas’s gaze following me, a shadow that clung to my every step. When he finally appeared at my side, his hand found the small of my back, guiding me away from the guests with a firm pressure that left no room for argument.

“Come,” he said, steering me toward a set of tall glass doors that opened onto a balcony. The cool night air rushed to greet me as we stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside. I drew in a deep breath, desperate for a moment of relief, but it was short-lived.

Nicholas leaned against the stone railing, his eyes studying me with an intensity that felt almost predatory. “Do you hate me?” he asked, the question hanging in the air between us.

I flinched, caught off guard. “Hate you?” I echoed. “I don’t even know you.”

He gave a faint, humorless chuckle and pushed away from the railing, closing the distance between us. “You’ll come to know me, Elena. And I will come to know you.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper, the words curling around me like smoke. “But make no mistake—you belong to me now. And I will remind you of that whenever necessary.”

Something inside me twisted—a mix of fear and anger that knotted in my chest. “I may have married you,” I said, “but I will never belong to you.”

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. “We’ll see,” he replied, and his tone was soft, almost tender, yet laced with a threat. “For now, be a good wife and behave.”

The words stung like a slap. Before I could respond, he turned and walked back inside, leaving me standing alone on the balcony, my heart pounding against my ribs.

I followed him back into the grand ballroom, every step heavier than the last. When the reception finally ended, Nicholas escorted me to a sleek black car waiting at the estate’s entrance. My father, mother, and brother were there, standing by the car. My mother’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and my brother’s expression was one of helplessness, the same look that had been in my father’s eyes all evening.

As the driver held open the door, Nicholas paused to speak to my father. His voice was too low for me to catch the words, but I saw the way my father’s face paled, his shoulders stiffening. Whatever Nicholas said, it was enough to drain the last bit of color from his cheeks. Then, without another word, Nicholas climbed into the driver’s seat, not bothering to look back at my family as I was ushered into the car.

The drive was silent, the world outside passing in a blur of shadows and distant lights. I sat in the back, my hands clenched tightly in my lap as the reality of my situation sank in. I was alone. I had no choice but to see this through.

We arrived at a sprawling mansion, its grand facade looming like a fortress. Nicholas stepped out first, walking up the marble steps without a backward glance. I hesitated, but the driver’s voice jolted me. “Ma’am, you should go inside.”

I followed reluctantly, my footsteps echoing through the cavernous entryway. The interior was opulent, adorned with marble and crystal chandeliers, but to me, it felt cold and unwelcoming. A maid appeared and led me up a winding staircase to a room on the second floor. “This will be your room, Mrs. Callahan,” she said, her tone distant, almost indifferent, as she opened the door.

I walked inside, my eyes sweeping over the lavish furnishings—the silk drapes, the polished wood, the heavy bed with its embroidered coverlet. It looked like a cage, albeit a gilded one. I took a step forward, relieved to find the room empty.

But before I could catch my breath, the door slammed shut behind me. I spun around to find Nicholas leaning against the doorframe, his expression unreadable, a glint of something dangerous in his eyes.

“Elena,” he said. “did you really think I’d leave you alone on our wedding night?”

The words hung in the air, a threat wrapped in velvet. And as he took a step closer, the look in his eyes promised that this night was far from over.

ELENA'S POV.

My breath hitched as Nicholas took a step toward me, his figure cutting an imposing silhouette in the dimly lit room. The soft glow from the chandelier above cast shadows across his face, making him look almost otherworldly—dangerously beautiful. I hadn’t expected him to follow me here, hadn’t anticipated the unnerving intensity of his gaze. For a moment, the air seemed to thin, making it hard to draw a full breath. I felt trapped, like a bird beating its wings against the bars of a cage.

But then, his lips curled into a smirk. “Well, to your dismay... I am leaving you alone, dear,” he said. He pushed away from the door frame, moving closer with a slow, deliberate stride. His arms fell to his sides, but the mockery in his tone stung, slicing through me like a blade. A flicker of relief shot through me, but it was tainted by a deeper awareness—whether he was physically near or not, his presence was inescapable. I was tethered to him now, bound by a vow that felt more like a chain, and he knew it.

He gestured around the grand room, “This is your home now. Get used to it.”

I forced myself to look around, taking in the crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, and the heavy velvet drapes that blocked out the night beyond the windows. Everything here screamed luxury—luxury I had never asked for, luxury that felt like an unwanted gift wrapped in thorns. It was a gilded cage, and I could feel its bars closing in around me. My gaze snapped back to him, and I straightened my spine, trying to resist the chill creeping into my bones. “Used to it?” I repeated. “What if I don’t want to?”

A shadow passed over his face, his expression hardening in an instant. His jaw tightened, and the sudden shift in his demeanor made my chest tighten, as though an invisible hand had wrapped itself around my ribcage. “You don’t have a choice,” he said. “Your loyalty belongs to me now, Elena. Not to your father.”

The weight of his words seemed to settle on my shoulders, pressing me down. It was as if he had just closed the last door to my freedom and locked it, pocketing the key with that smug smirk still on his lips. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, burning with a mixture of frustration and despair. I blinked them back furiously—I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not now. Not ever. How had it come to this? How had my life narrowed to this moment, standing in a stranger’s mansion, bound to a man whose reasons for marrying me went far beyond love or even desire?

But as much as despair threatened to swallow me, something else began to stir deep inside—a spark of anger, hot and urgent. It kindled in the pit of my stomach, spreading warmth to my limbs, igniting a flicker of defiance. I straightened my spine a little more, lifted my chin higher, and met his gaze with a steadiness that surprised even me. “I may be your wife, Nicholas,” I said, “but I will never be your puppet.”

His eyes darkened, the amusement fading as a low chuckle escaped him. The sound was deep and resonant, reverberating through the room and sending a shiver racing down my spine. He stepped closer, so close that the heat of his breath brushed against my cheek. I could feel his presence looming over me, the space between us charged with a tension that I didn’t fully understand. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured, his tone laced with a dark promise. “But don’t mistake my patience for leniency, Elena. I’ll tolerate your resistance—for now.”

My pulse quickened, and I hated that he could unsettle me so easily. There was anger, yes, simmering just beneath the surface, but something else too—something far more dangerous. A thrill, however small, at the way his voice dipped when he said my name, at the commanding set of his jaw, at the challenge that his very presence posed. It infuriated me. I hated the part of myself that responded to him at all, that felt drawn to the darkness in his eyes. I was supposed to despise him, wasn’t I? So why did his nearness stir something unnamable within me, a curiosity I didn’t want to acknowledge?

He took a step back, and my breath came out in a shaky exhale. He swept a hand toward the bed, a gesture that felt almost dismissive. “This room is yours,” he said, as if that settled everything. “But don’t think that means we’ll be sleeping separately. When I decide it, you’ll be in my bed, in my room. Until then, this space is for your use during the day. But your nights…” He trailed off, and that smirk returned, a devilish gleam in his eye. “…your nights will belong to me. Sleepless nights, my darling.”

The insinuation in his tone ignited a flush across my cheeks, and I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my composure. He seemed to take pleasure in how easily he could unnerve me, as though my discomfort was a game he intended to win. I hated it. I hated that my skin prickled under his gaze, that my mind raced with thoughts I didn’t want to entertain. How could I allow him this kind of power over me, even for a moment?

“I’ll talk to you about the rules in the coming days,” Nicholas continued, calm and matter-of-fact, as if we were discussing a business arrangement and not the terms of my captivity. “For now, rest. Because once we begin, you’ll find there will be little time for it.”

He turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his movements fluid, as if every step was part of a dance he had perfected long ago. He paused just before leaving, casting one last glance over his shoulder. “Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Callahan,” he said, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

The silence that followed was deafening, pressing in on me from all sides. I realized then that I had been holding my breath and released it shakily, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. I was alone, yes, but not free. I wasn’t sure I would ever be free again. There was no escaping this place, no escaping this arrangement, and certainly no escaping Nicholas Callahan, who had just made it clear that he intended to control every aspect of my life.

A surge of anger flared inside me, hot and sharp. I needed air, needed something to shatter the suffocating stillness of the room. I strode to the window and yanked back the heavy curtains, desperate for some glimpse of the outside world. The night beyond stretched out vast and indifferent, the moon casting a cold silver light over the manicured gardens below. It felt as if the world had moved on without me, indifferent to my fate even as mine was being dismantled piece by piece.

I pressed my palm against the cool glass, needing something solid to anchor myself. I had vowed that I wouldn’t let him break me, that I wouldn’t let Nicholas Callahan turn me into some obedient doll to be paraded around. But as I stood there, staring at the indifferent night, doubt whispered at the edges of my thoughts. What if I couldn’t fight him? What if he was already winning?