“The wedding ashes”
1398 Words
The wedding took less than six minutes.
The courthouse reeked of sterilized air and faded dreams. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly pallor over everything. The room was empty except for two legal witnesses, both strangers, and the officiant who barely looked up as he mumbled through the vows.
Selena Hart stood next to Alec Blackwood, the man she had sworn to hate forever, and signed away her life with a black ink pen that scratched against the paper like a blade carving into her skin.
When the officiant asked Alec if he took Selena Hart to be his lawfully wedded wife, he answered without hesitation.
“I do.”
No smile. No softening.
When it was her turn, the words caught in her throat. For a terrifying second, she thought she might not be able to say them. That her pride, her heart, whatever fragile parts of herself still remained unbroken, would rise up and refuse.
But then she saw it—her father’s name at the bottom of one of the documents. A signature she hadn’t even realized Alec had acquired.
A quiet reminder: this wasn’t about her.
This was survival.
“I do,” Selena said, her voice low and cold.
The officiant pronounced them husband and wife with less emotion than a grocery store clerk announcing a sale.
There was no kiss.
There was no applause.
Alec slipped a ring onto her finger—no gentle touch, no lingering glance. The diamond was too heavy, too perfect, like a shackle disguised as beauty. It glittered under the courthouse lights, mocking her.
Selena dropped her hand immediately, resisting the urge to tear the thing off and throw it in his face.
Instead, she lifted her chin and met Alec’s gaze dead-on.
He looked pleased. Not joyful—Alec Blackwood would never know joy—but satisfied, the way a predator was after the hunt was over and the prey lay broken at its feet.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Blackwood,” he murmured.
She wanted to spit in his face. Instead, she smiled sweetly, a smile she had once used at gala events to hide her contempt.
“Go to hell,” she whispered so only he could hear.
His eyes gleamed with something almost like amusement. Almost.
“Darling,” Alec said, taking her arm in a grip that looked gentle but was anything but, “you married the devil. You’re already there.”
⸻
The car ride to Blackwood Tower was silent.
Selena stared out the window, watching the city blur past. She felt like she was hurtling toward a fate she hadn’t truly chosen, despite her signature, despite her oath.
But she would endure it.
She had survived worse.
She would survive Alec Blackwood.
The Tower rose before them, black glass and steel stabbing into the night sky, a monument to Alec’s ambition. As they pulled up, paparazzi lights flashed like machine-gun fire. Somehow, word had leaked. Of course it had. Alec controlled the narrative, the stage, the players.
Before she could gather her wits, Alec was there, guiding her out of the car with a firm hand at her back. Cameras clicked. Reporters shouted questions.
“Mr. Blackwood! Is it true this was an arranged marriage?”
“Selena, how does it feel to marry your family’s enemy?”
“Are you in love?”
Selena wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it.
Instead, she gave the cameras a brittle smile and let Alec lead her inside without a word.
The moment the elevator doors closed behind them, the air shifted. The tension between them grew thick, choking.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused, crossing her arms.
Alec leaned casually against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like he hadn’t just detonated her life.
“Enjoying?” he repeated thoughtfully. “No. Strategizing.”
“Strategizing what?” she demanded.
His smile was slow, dangerous. “You’ll find out.”
The elevator climbed higher and higher, each floor falling away beneath them like the pieces of her old life.
At last, they reached the penthouse.
The doors opened to reveal a cavernous expanse of luxury—floor-to-ceiling windows, marble floors, art worth more than the Hart estate ever had been. A palace built for a king—and a prison designed for a queen who had no escape.
Selena stepped inside slowly, heels clicking against the cold floor. She wrapped her arms around herself without realizing it, trying to shrink, trying not to breathe in the scent of power that permeated every inch of the space.
“Welcome home,” Alec said behind her.
She turned to face him, forcing her spine straight. “This isn’t my home.”
“It is now,” he said simply, stripping off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.
Selena watched him, her fists clenching at her sides. Every instinct screamed at her to run. But there was nowhere left to go.
“You made your choice, Selena,” Alec said, stepping closer. “Now you live with it.”
Her jaw tightened. “I made a sacrifice.”
“Same thing,” he murmured, reaching for the top button of his shirt, loosening it with casual ease. “You gave yourself away.”
“I didn’t give myself to you,” she snapped, the words tasting like acid.
Alec smiled faintly, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“We’ll see.”
⸻
Later that night, Selena sat on the edge of the massive bed in what was supposed to be their bedroom. The room was beautiful—gold and deep navy, silk sheets and velvet curtains. Opulence, everywhere she looked.
She hated it.
She hated him.
She hated herself.
The door creaked open, and her head snapped up.
Alec stood there, framed by the doorway, shadows coiling around him like loyal dogs. His shirt was undone at the throat, his sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms and the ink that snaked along one wrist—a wolf, just like the seal on the envelope.
Selena’s heart hammered against her ribs, but she kept her expression cold.
He didn’t move closer. He just watched her, his gaze burning.
“You expect me to sleep with you?” she asked sharply, needing to hear the answer out loud.
Alec tilted his head slightly, considering her.
“No,” he said finally. “Not yet.”
The relief that flooded her was immediate and infuriating.
“But don’t get comfortable,” he added, his voice dropping into something dark. “I’m not a patient man.”
Selena rose to her feet, squaring her shoulders.
“I will never love you,” she said, meaning every word.
“I don’t want your love,” Alec said, stepping inside at last, closing the door behind him with a soft click that sounded like a death sentence.
“Then what do you want?” she demanded.
He crossed the room with deliberate slowness until he stood inches from her. His hand came up, and for a breathless moment, Selena thought he might touch her. Might force her to feel something she wasn’t ready to face.
Instead, he caught a strand of her hair between his fingers, rolling it gently.
“Obedience,” he said softly. “Loyalty. And eventually… surrender.”
Selena ripped her head away, yanking the strand free.
“Go to hell,” she said again, voice shaking.
Alec smiled, and it was the smile of a man who already owned hell and was willing to burn for it.
“I’ll save you a seat,” he murmured.
He turned and left her standing there, alone in the cold golden cage he had built for her.
⸻
That night, Selena lay stiff and awake in the oversized bed, listening to the silence of the penthouse pressing down on her.
Somewhere beyond the door, Alec moved through the darkness like a phantom. She could feel him—his presence, his power, his ruthless patience.
She closed her eyes, telling herself she would never break.
But deep down, in the pit of her soul, she knew this was only the beginning.
Because the most dangerous wars weren’t fought with guns or knives.
They were fought with whispered words, lingering touches, stolen glances.
And Alec Blackwood knew how to fight dirty.
- Writer
