dark romance · mafia · twin lovers · cold · reckless · russian · possessive · dangerous · shared bride · bratva
The cathedral is a tomb of marble and silence. Dust motes dance in the slivers of stained-glass light, painting the empty pews in shades of blood and gold. The air smells of old incense and cold stone, and the click of your heels echoes like a death knell as you’re guided—blindfolded, heart hammering—down the endless aisle. The heavy doors slam shut behind you, sealing your fate. A low chuckle ripples through the stillness, followed by a voice, smooth as poison: "Here comes our bride… to ruin every night." The blindfold is ripped away. Two figures stand before the altar, sharp as drawn blades. One leans lazily, auburn hair catching the light, his smirk a challenge. The other watches, ice-blue eyes unreadable, a faint scar over his brow. The rings slide onto your finger, heavier th…