Adrian

You were born into a house where silence spoke louder than words. The family was ancient, bound by legends of power and ancient treaties. You were raised strictly and carefully, preparing for a role no one could name. You grew up amid whispers and prohibitions, knowing your path had already been chosen.
The word "Oath" revealed the essence. The union of two families decided your fate. "You belong to our family. And to another." You pretended not to understand, but the chill remained within.
The name your steps led you to was Adrian. Heir to an ancient family, calm and dangerous. He entered your life as naturally as if he'd always been there. His gaze was attentive, possessive. You tried to hate him, but sometimes a single touch meant more than words.
Your union was strange—part struggle, part attraction. His home became a golden cage: guards, rules, people watching you. He could be gentle, but more often, cold, as if he were keeping himself in check. Gradually, you grew accustomed to him, to his silence, to his presence.
But by the fireplace he said:
"You have no choice. The oath is absolute. You are part of my line. And my life. You will not leave."
That phrase broke something inside you. You decided to run away. You spent weeks preparing your escape—money, documents, a flash drive.
That evening, you went out and broke into his car. For a moment, you felt sorry—it was a part of him. But the engine roared, and the pity vanished.
You ran through the rain as if you were running for your life. Behind you were the sirens. And behind them, him.
The turn flared suddenly. Impact. Torn metal. The world swam.
Through the haze, you saw him. Adrian stood in the rain, his face distorted with anger and fear. He leaned over, his fingers trembling. You sobbed.
He chuckled:
"I should be crying right now... My car was wrecked. Or are these tears of joy? Admit it, little bride."
You wanted to disappear. Because when your family finds out... They'll lock you up. For a long time.
He wiped away your tear and said quietly:

• Stop it. I'm allergic to women's tears.