Before the fire, there was silence. And in that silence—I was buried alive.
The wind howled like a beast, but not louder than the betrayal crashing inside my chest. My bare feet slid against the edge of the cliff, the sharp stone biting into my skin—reminding me that I was still alive. For now.
The wedding gown—my gown—was no longer white. It was soaked, torn, painted with blood and dirt. The veil was gone. My crown was gone. My world… was gone.
And they stood behind me.
Him.
My fiancé. The man who once kissed my scars like they were sacred. The man who promised me forever.
And her—my best friend, who held my hand through every heartbreak, only to become the one to destroy me.
Their silhouettes burned into my retinas as I turned, tears streaking through the dust on my cheeks.
"Why?" My voice was barely a whisper. "Why would you do this to me?"
Nolan stepped forward, emotionless, like I was a problem he was tired of solving.
"You were never meant to last in this world, Nyra. You were just... convenient."
Ava didn't speak. She only smiled—soft, poisonous, triumphant.
The betrayal didn't hit like a blade.
It hit like a storm ripping the sky apart.
I couldn't breathe.
My knees buckled, and my hands gripped the air like it could save me. But there was no one left to hold me.
"Goodbye, Nyra," Nolan said, his voice colder than the wind howling behind me.
And then— They pushed.
The fall wasn't fast. It was excruciatingly slow, like time itself was savoring my destruction.
I remember the scream tearing out of my throat. I remember the way the cliff vanished above me. I remember the way the world spun like a kaleidoscope of betrayal and sky and death.
And I remember thinking,
This is how love ends. Not in heartbreak. But in silence.
The rocks welcomed me like old friends. There was no splash, no softness, no second chance.
Only darkness.
But then— I opened my eyes.
Instead, I opened my eyes.
To silk sheets. Golden light bleeding through the blinds. The faint chirp of morning birds, like nothing had happened.
But everything had.
I shot upright, breath catching in my throat, my heart clawing inside my chest. The scent of fresh roses. The soft rustle of satin.
I turned to the mirror. And there it was.
The dress.
The same dress I died in.
My fingers trembled as they touched the lace corset that had once held so many dreams—and now felt like a noose. My reflection stared back at me with wide, haunted eyes. But beneath the fear, something darker flickered.
Rage.
Because this wasn't a dream.
It was a warning.
A reset.
A second chance.
Every vow Nolan Hayes whispered in my ears...
Every tear Ava faked while zipping me into this gown…
Every fake laugh, every toast, every sweet word—
They weren't memories anymore.
They were evidence.
And this time, I wasn't going to be the girl left bleeding at the bottom of the cliff.
I tore the dress from my body. Lace ripped like paper. Beads scattered across the floor like shattered promises. My feet carried me like I was possessed—out the door, into the car, across the city.
This wasn't about heartbreak anymore.
This was war.
.......................Two Hours Later (Blackwood Corp.)..............................
Steel, glass, and shadows. The building looked more like a fortress than a business empire. I stepped out of the cab, barefoot, bruised, and wearing a ripped wedding dress that still clung to me like a ghost. The driver didn't even ask for payment.
The guards spotted me before the doors even opened. They moved fast—
"Ma'am—step back."
"Miss, you can't enter dressed like—"
"Touch me and you'll bleed," I snapped, my voice low and venom-laced.
They hesitated. Good.
But the second I moved, one tried to block me.
So I shoved him.
Hard.
I wasn't strong. But fury made up the difference. He staggered. I marched past. Another tried to grab my arm—I twisted free with a jerk of my elbow that sent his clipboard flying.
Gasps. Whispers. Phones lifted to record.
Let them. Let the world see what betrayal looked like.
By the time I reached the reception desk, blood trickled from my foot—cut by a piece of broken glass I hadn't noticed. Still, I didn't stop. I leaned on the counter, locked eyes with the wide-eyed assistant, and said:
"Tell Damien Blackwood that Nyra Callahan is here to see him. And no, I won't wait."
She stuttered something into the phone. Probably assumed I was crazy.
But within seconds, the elevator doors slid open.
And he stepped out.
Damien Blackwood.
He moved like sin in a tailored suit. Cold eyes. Sharp jaw. The air around him shifted when he entered it—like gravity had no choice but to bend.
His gaze locked onto me.
He didn't blink.
Didn't smirk.
Didn't ask questions.
He just watched me like I was a bomb someone forgot to disarm.
"Miss Callahan," he said smoothly, voice like velvet soaked in whiskey. "You're early for your own funeral."
I stared him down.
"No," I said, my voice steady despite the blood drying on my heel. "I'm just on time for war."
His brow lifted slightly, interest flickering behind those glacial eyes.
"War?" he repeated, slowly approaching. "Dressed like that?"
He let his gaze drop, not in lust, but in calculation—cataloguing the ripped gown, the blood, the madness in my stare.
It wasn't judgment.
It was admiration. Hidden. Dangerous.
I leaned forward, our distance razor-thin. "Call off the wedding. I'll help you bring Nolan Hayes to his knees."
He gave a soft laugh—low, dark, almost amused.
"What exactly are you offering me, Nyra?"
His voice dipped, low enough to sink beneath my skin.
"To risk my empire for your heartbreak?"
I took a breath.
Not to think— To ignite.
"I'm offering myself."
That stilled him.
He stepped in—closer than any man should. Our bodies didn't touch, but I felt him—like static before lightning strikes.
His voice dropped to a whisper, a warning wrapped in heat.
"Careful, Nyra. Offers like that come with prices neither of us can afford."
I didn't blink.
"Then let's burn the world down, Damien. You and me."
His jaw ticked. His eyes darkened. And just like that, the game changed.
The room didn't have fire.
We were the fire.