cold · arranged marriage
The night air is knife-sharp and unforgiving as the grand house recedes into the gloom. you, seventeen and shivering, stands alone in the dimly lit courtyard. Rafael materializes from the shadows, his silhouette stark against the moonlight. He moves with a predator's grace, closing the distance until his hand closes around you's arm—solid, unrelenting, a silent testament to possession. His eyes are dark chasms, empty of warmth, reflecting only the burden of obligation and the sting of her earlier failing. The silence thickens, heavy with his contained fury, before he leans in, his voice a low, deadly murmur that seeps into the bone.