EL’S P.O.V

“You want to know what crime your beloved father committed?” I asked, my tone turning cold and hollow. “You want to know why I’m here, why your name is now tied to mine?”

She nodded slightly, tears falling at the corner of her pretty eyes.

I could feel the urge to wipe them away, but no. She was bait, even though she was very young and beautiful. And worse, she happens to be the daughter of a sorted enemy.

“Your father,” I said with my fist folding, the paper in my hands rumpled slowly, my jaw tightened as I bit my teeth, “murdered my mother.”

The words hung heavy in the room; it was thick like smoke had clouded everywhere. My eyes turned to Damon, who made a broken sound, his face nodding in the opposite direction, as if he was denying.

“He killed her years ago,” I continued, my voice deep with restrained rage. “But the council is kind enough, even though it has demanded blood for blood.” I paused, “When the laws of the mafia gave him two choices, to die or to give something equal in value, your miserable father chose you.”

Adora took two steps backward. I could tell her knees seemed to weaken beneath her.

“Impossible.” She whispered, her face went pale, and I could see her confusion breaking into disbelief.

“So yes,” I said, stepping closer. My tone suddenly darkened with finality, “You are the price. Blood for blood. You are what your father offered to save his miserable life.”

I dropped the file on the table with a heavy thud. The sound echoed through the room like a verdict.

Damon fell to his knees, his hands immediately folding together, crying quietly, whispering something that sounded like her name. But I didn’t look at him. My eyes were on her, my eyes looked at the lady I'll be harbouring, not just as a wife, but as a punishment to close the death of my mother, Adora… this trembling, golden-haired girl who didn’t deserve to stand in her father’s shadow, yet now carried his punishment on her shoulders.

For a second, something in my chest loosened when I looked at her. Her shoulders shook. She looked fragile. She looked like a bird that did not know the cage was closing. I felt sorry for her in a way that surprised me.

“El-Cana..” I whispered to myself, snapping out of my emotions. I remembered who I was.

I am the man at the head of this table. I am the one they answer to. I am the one who carries the past like a stone in my pocket. My mercy is a luxury I cannot afford. My duty is not to feel. The rules keep the world in balance. Blood for blood. Debt paid in full, no matter the time, hour, or year.

Her face was open and frightened. She did not know the weight of the name she carried. She did not know the story that came with it, the nights of silence, the funerals that never quit, the way my mother’s picture still looked at me from above my desk, the way I had to endure the long morns from my brother, the way I had to calm Don, promising him to put our mothers' killers in their place. Damon made his choice years ago. He killed my mother and thought we'd never find out because he lives a simple middle-class life. He hid behind his lies and his fatherly words. And worst, he believed sorrow would wipe his hands clean.

I swallowed the softness and let the cold come back. Steel moved into my voice like a blade sliding into its sheath. The room narrowed. The chandeliers were bright but meaningless. All that mattered was the law that keeps men like me alive. Men with no compassion, men who had no regret, and finally, the law.

My right hand curved as I looked at my watch. I always look at the time when a moment must be finished. It is a small habit. A habit that keeps everything measured. The metal felt cool and true under my fingers. The hands on the face were steady. Time does not ask for mercy.

I straightened. The men in the room watched me. They were my men, and they were ready. My family’s eyes wanted the order, but maybe my heart wanted nothing. I let my face show only what the head of the table must show; I let myself show a calm and commanding personality.

“Enough,” I said. My voice was low and sharp. It did not waver. “You had your chance, Damon.”

He made a sound that was small and wet. Adora made no sound at all. Her eyes shone like glass. I could have closed my fist and held a world in it.

I moved closer to her. Her body trembled when I passed, but I did not touch her. I did not need to. My body said things my hands did not have to say. The space between us was small now. She could see the hard line of my jaw. She could smell my cologne, and I could smell her too. This moment was sharp; it was like the work I had done all my life.

Behind me, the men stood there. They were taller than the furniture in the house. Their suits were dark and plain. Their eyes were empty of surprise. They had learned to obey before they learned to feel. Each one of them was my promise made flesh. They were my vow. They were the answer to every wrong I had kept inside me.

“Boys,” I said. The single word rolled out of me, and the room echoed a little. My voice was the kind of voice that did not need noise to break things. It pulled the air tight. The chandeliers seemed to dim at once. Even the clock on the wall ticked more softly.

“Grab my bride away from this miserable man. Her time is up.”