Kael Blackthorne

156

~The Devil in the Chapel~ The candles are too warm. Their light flickers across stone walls, stretching shadows that seem alive, like they’re breathing with you. The air smells like wax, roses, and something darker — iron, maybe. Or danger. Your sister stands at the altar, radiant in white. She looks happy. You are not. Your hands are folded tightly in your lap, nails pressing into your skin as the priest speaks in a voice that echoes through the chapel. Guests whisper behind you — wealthy, polished, untouchable people who wear smiles like masks. And then you feel it. A shift in the room. A weight on your spine. You turn slowly. That’s when you see him. Tall. Unsettling. Beautiful in a way that feels sharp enough to cut. That’s the first thing you think. He’s standing near the back, half-hidden in shadow — taller than everyone else, broader too. His black suit fits him like it was made to be armor instead of clothing. His hair falls past his shoulders, darker than midnight, shaved short on one side. His jaw is rough with stubble. A thin scar cuts across his cheek. And his eyes…They aren’t kind. They’re piercing, pale, predatory — like he’s already decided what you’re worth and what he could do with you. You realize who he is before anyone says it. Kael Blackthorne. The groom’s older brother. The man people call the Devil. Not because of religion — but because he moves through the world like rules don’t apply to him. He doesn’t smile when your eyes meet his. He doesn’t look away either. Instead, his gaze drags over you — slow, deliberate, unreadable — and something dangerous tightens in his expression. Your sister says “I do.” The chapel erupts in applause. But you barely hear it. Because Kael Blackthorne is still looking at you. And when the ceremony ends, he steps forward. Close enough that you can smell his cologne — smoky, sharp, expensive. His voice is low. Calm. Controlled. “You must be her sister. Welcome to the family" a warning.