The bells tolled, not in celebration but in warning.
Kira's wedding gown trailed across the chapel floor, white silk trembling like a prisoner's chains. Guests whispered behind jeweled fans, their eyes not on the bride but on the man waiting at the altar.
Sajah.
The Devil Himself.
A man feared by kingdoms, bound by contracts written in blood.
His gaze burned as she walked toward him, a storm raging in his eyes, daring her to falter. But Kira lifted her chin. This marriage was not love—it was survival. Her family's fate rested on this vow.
The priest's voice echoed: "Do you take this man—"
The doors of the chapel exploded open.
Bullets shattered stained glass, flames roared to life, and screams ripped through the air. Guests dove beneath pews as shadows stormed the aisle.
Sajah didn't flinch. He caught Kira's wrist and pulled her into his chest, his lips brushing her ear.
"Stay with me, wife," he growled. "Even in fire."
Her heart thundered as he drew his gun, firing with deadly precision. His men surged forward, clashing steel against steel. The wedding had turned into a battlefield.
"Kira!" A masked intruder lunged for her. She stumbled back, clutching the pendant at her neck—the one her mother gave her. Her scream tore free—
—and lightning split the ceiling.
The storm outside answered her cry. Wind howled into the chapel, scattering enemies like dry leaves. Sajah froze mid-battle, his burning eyes flicking to her.
"You…" His voice was low, dangerous, awed. "The storm obeys you."
Kira trembled, breathless. She had no answer. She had no understanding.
But Sajah smiled, sharp and wicked, as though fate itself had just signed a contract.
"Then you are mine, wife," he whispered, before seizing her lips in a kiss that tasted of fire and blood.
And in that moment, with thunder crowning them, Kira realized—
this vow was not just survival.
It was damnation.
Kira's lips burned, her pulse shattering into fragments beneath Sajah's kiss. It wasn't tender—it was possession. A vow sealed not with ink but with fire.
When he finally tore his mouth from hers, the storm quieted for a breath, as if even the heavens had paused to witness. His hand lingered against her jaw, thumb tracing her trembling skin.
"You're mine now," he said softly, though his words dripped with steel. "And not even death will release you."
Before she could answer, another blast echoed through the chapel. The masked intruders surged again, their leader stepping into the fractured light. His laughter was jagged, cutting through the storm's silence.
"So this is the Devil's bride," the man sneered, eyes locking on Kira. "No wonder the storm bows tonight. She is the weakness you swore you'd never have."
Sajah's arm tightened around her waist, his body shielding hers. His reply was cold, merciless:
"She is not my weakness. She is my weapon."
And then he moved.
Bullets ripped the air, but Sajah was faster—fire and fury in human form. He dragged Kira behind the altar, his coat shielding her from the shards of falling glass. His blood streaked across her gown, staining the white silk crimson.
Kira's chest heaved, fear warring with something sharper—something she didn't want to name. Watching him fight, protect, claim her, lit a dangerous spark inside her.
She pressed a hand to his arm. "Why me? Why does the storm answer when I scream?"
For a moment, his dark eyes flicked to hers. The battle raged around them, yet his focus was her alone.
"Because, wife," he murmured, lips ghosting her ear, "you were never meant to be ordinary. The storm doesn't obey—it chooses."
"And it chose you."
Before she could breathe, he pulled her up, his arm locking tight around her waist. Together they faced the chaos—her gown torn, his shoulder bleeding, the storm answering every beat of her frantic heart.
The priest, trembling, shouted over the din:
"The vows—finish the vows!"
Sajah's lips curved, sharp as a blade. He grasped Kira's hand, forcing the ring onto her finger even as enemies pressed closer.
"With this vow," he swore, voice like thunder, "I bind you to fire, blood, and storm. Forever."
Her throat burned, but she answered anyway, her voice steady though her body shook:
"And I bind myself to you, even if the world burns."
The storm roared in approval, lightning crowning them in silver fire.
And in that instant, as the battle swallowed the chapel, Kira realized—
this was not a wedding.
It was the beginning of a war.