Chapter 4: The Unholy Union
The lawyers didn't look like men of the law. They looked like undertakers in thousand-dollar suits. They sat in the drawing room of Blackwood Manor, their briefcases open like hungry mouths on the mahogany table, waiting for me to sign my life away to three monsters.
I wore black.
Silk, floor-length, and fitted like a second skin. It wasn't a wedding dress; it was mourning attire. I wanted them to know exactly what this was. A funeral for the woman I used to be, and a celebration for the ghost I had become.
"Vesper," XERXES said, standing by the fireplace. The orange flames cast long, flickering shadows across his face, making him look like a devil carved from granite. He held a glass of dark liquid, but he wasn't drinking. He was watching. "The papers are ready. Don't keep the law waiting."
I walked toward the table, my heels clicking a slow, funeral march on the polished hardwood. ZION was leaning against the sideboard, a smirk playing on his lips that didn't reach his eyes. KYLO was a shadow in the corner, his presence a cold, static pressure against my spine.
"Sign here," the lead lawyer said, his voice as dry as parchment. He pointed to a line that looked like a barbed-wire fence.
I picked up the pen. It was heavy. Solid gold. It felt like a weapon in my hand.
"Wait," Zion said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He walked over, his steps deliberate and predatory. He reached out and caught my hand, his thumb tracing the blue veins in my wrist, his touch searingly hot. "A contract this big deserves a ritual, doesn't it, Xerxes? A Blackwood tradition for a Blackwood bride."
Xerxes narrowed his eyes, his jaw tight. "We don't have time for your theatrics, Zion. Just let her sign."
"It's not theatrics. It's a blood-seal." Zion pulled a small, silver folding knife from his pocket. My heart skipped a beat, a cold flash of adrenaline hitting my system. Was he going to kill me here? In front of the witnesses?
He didn't. He pressed the blade to his own thumb, drawing a single, bright bead of blood. He smeared it across the top of the first page, the red staining the white paper like a sin.
"Your turn, Vesper," Xerxes commanded, his voice a low vibration that I felt in my teeth.
I took the pen and signed. Three times. One for the cold ambition of Xerxes. One for the jagged hunger of Zion. One for the silent madness of Kylo.
The lawyers gathered the papers with shaking hands and left without a word, like ghosts retreating into the night. They knew what they had just witnessed. A sale. A sacrifice.
"It's done," Xerxes said, his voice a low, vibrating rumble. He stepped toward me, his hand coming up to cup my jaw. His thumb was still stained with Zion's blood, and he smeared it across my lower lip, marking me. "You are Mrs. Blackwood now. To all of us. You belong to the name, the blood, and the debt."
"Does that mean I get my privacy back?" I asked, my voice a cold, sharp blade. I looked him dead in the eye, refusing to flinch.
"Privacy?" Zion laughed, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back, pulling me flush against him so I could feel the hard line of his body. "Sweetheart, you just married the three most possessive men in the city. You don't have privacy. You have observers. You have keepers."
Kylo stepped out of the shadows, his hand reaching out to touch the lace at my collar. His fingers were ice cold. "You belong in this house now, Vesper. You belong in the walls. You belong in the very air we breathe. There is nowhere you can go that we won't be."
The air in the room grew heavy, the tension thickening until it was hard to draw a breath. They were surrounding me—a wall of muscle, expensive cologne, and dark intent.
"Which one of you?" I whispered, my eyes darting between them. I let my voice tremble, playing the terrified prize they expected. "The Will says we must live as a unit. It doesn't say... how you divide the nights."
Xerxes's grip on my jaw tightened, just enough to be a warning. "There is no division, Vesper. We are a Unit. What one of us does, we all do. What one of us sees, we all see. Do not think you can play us against each other."
My heart hammered against my ribs, but not from fear. Good, I thought. Stay close. Stay in the same room. It makes it easier to watch you all fail.
"I'm tired," I said, letting my eyelid flutter, my body swaying slightly toward Xerxes as if seeking support. "The ritual... it was too much. I want to go to my room."
"Our wing," Zion corrected, his voice a dark, velvet promise.
"No," Xerxes overruled him, his gaze never leaving mine. "Not tonight. Tonight, Vesper needs to reflect on her new reality. She stays in her suite. But the door..."
"The door stays unlocked," I finished for him, a bitter, hollow smile on my lips.
"Unlocked," Xerxes confirmed.
I turned and walked away, feeling their eyes on my back like physical weights. I knew they were watching the way the silk of my dress clung to my hips. I knew they were imagining the skin beneath.
I reached my room and closed the heavy oak door. I didn't lock it. I didn't need to. I wanted them to feel the invitation.
I walked to the vanity and pulled the black-handled dagger from my garter. I laid it on the silk sheets, the moonlight catching the wicked edge of the blade. It was the only thing in this house that felt like home.
I reached into the hidden compartment of my vanity and pulled out my burner phone, the screen glowing in the dark.
'The marriage is legal,' I typed to the blocked number. 'They think they own me now. They think they've won. I'm in their heads. Phase two: the Vault. I'm moving tonight.'
I hit send and waited, my ears tuned to every creak of the old house.
A moment later, a floorboard groaned in the hallway.
I didn't hide the dagger. I didn't jump. I simply sat on the edge of the bed, the silk of my dress pooling around me like spilled ink, and waited for the handle to turn.
The door creaked open.
It was Kylo. He didn't have his hood up for once. His hair was a chaotic mess, his eyes wide, bloodshot, and wild. He didn't look at the dagger. He didn't look at the room. He looked at me.
"I can hear your heart," he whispered, standing in the doorway like a ghost. "It's not scared, Vesper. It's... singing. Why is it singing?"
"What is it singing, Kylo?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper.
He walked toward me, his heavy boots silent on the thick rug. He knelt between my legs, his hands coming up to rest on my thighs—not with lust, but with a strange, desperate reverence. He leaned his head against my stomach, his breathing ragged.
"It's singing a requiem," he murmured into the silk of my dress. "And I want to be the first one you bury. I want to be the first thing you destroy."
I reached down, my fingers tangling in his dark, soft hair. I could have killed him then. I could have driven the dagger into the base of his skull and ended the first of the Blackwood line.
But as I looked down at the broken, beautiful monster at my feet, I felt a spark of something I hadn't felt in six long years.
Hunger.
Not for safety. Not for money. But for the absolute ruin of the men who thought they could buy my soul.
"Soon, Kylo," I whispered, leaning down to press a cold, clinical kiss to his forehead. "Soon, you'll all get exactly what you deserve."
The door didn't just open then—it slammed.
Xerxes stood there, his eyes turning into twin shards of ice as he saw his brother kneeling at my feet.
"Get out, Kylo," Xerxes hissed, his voice vibrating with a territorial rage that promised blood. "Now."
The game hadn't just started. It was already turning lethal.