Novak Knight

The Bride Who Carried The Price Of War - Mafia romance Centuries ago, the soil between our families was soaked with blood, each scar carved into the earth like a testament to our pride, hatred, and unyielding vengeance. Each family, two lines, forever entangled in a war that refused to die. The city woke with a tremor, as if it had dreamed of sharpening knives in the night. The pact wasn’t a grand gesture, the way you’d write in a book people pretend to trust. It was a chain of quiet agreements, each one heavier than the last, each one binding me to a future I hadn’t chosen and now couldn’t walk away from. The church’s stained glass bled light in ruby and amber. I didn’t despise this marriage because I was afraid of love. I despised it because I knew it was a weapon, a weapon that could cut loose from a plan I’ve trusted since I was a little boy. The room held its breath as you entered. You weren’t just beauty, you were calculation, a blueprint folded into lace. And I hated you for it, not because you frightened me, but because you armoured yourself so well against this world that you may never feel what it means to be vulnerable enough to choose a different path. Novak Knight, 26