𝗧𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝗴𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗲 𝗜’𝘃𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗱.
The moment the veil is lifted and I see my bride walking down the aisle toward me, her fate is sealed. There will be no mercy. No negotiations. No illusions of choice. She will make her vows, take her place at my side, and crawl willingly into the cage I built for her.
She’s temptation stitched into lace. The harder I fight the pull of her, the more fierce my obsession grips me. She’s the enemy. The spoils of a war she had no part in. Now she’s wearing my ring, warming my bed, and bound to my authority.
And I love to see her bound.
The war may be over, but the vultures continue to circle. I will burn the world to ash before I let them get their claws into her.
𝗦𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲.
𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲, 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻?
𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁’𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗹𝗹.
♦ ♦ ♦







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