Chapter 6 Roulette of Marriage

# Chapter 6: Roulette of Marriage

Dawn broke as we reached our destination: a crumbling stone chapel perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. Mist clung to the ground, wreathing the ancient structure in ghostly tendrils. My crimson gown was still damp from the rain, clinging uncomfortably to my skin as I followed Damien up the overgrown path.

"What is this place?" I asked, shivering in the morning chill.

"The Chapel of Sacred Blood." Damien pushed open the weathered wooden door. "Where the pact was sealed four centuries ago."

Inside, the chapel was a study in beautiful decay—stained glass windows fractured but still gleaming, wooden pews warped with age, altar stone cracked down the middle. Candles flickered in iron sconces, suggesting someone had been here recently.

"You've been preparing for this," I observed.

"I've been preparing my entire life." Damien moved to the altar, brushing aside dust to reveal an intricate carving—two families' crests intertwined, identical to my birthmark and his burn scar. "This is where our ancestors performed the ritual that bound our bloodlines forever."

I approached cautiously, drawn by an inexplicable pull to the altar. "Tell me what really happened. The full truth."

Damien's eyes met mine, his expression grave. "In 1623, the Blackwoods and Emersons were rival scholars of the occult, both seeking the secret to eternal life. They discovered an ancient ritual that promised immortality, but it required a sacrifice—blood freely given from both families."

He traced the carving with his fingertips. "What began as collaboration ended in betrayal. When the moment came to complete the ritual, Julian Emerson—your ancestor—turned on Marcus Blackwood, attempting to claim the power for himself alone."

"And let me guess—your ancestor fought back?"

"They both died here, blood mingling on this altar. But the ritual had already begun." Damien's voice lowered. "Instead of granting immortality to either man, it created something else—a curse that would bind our families through generations. One Blackwood in each generation marked for sacrifice, one Emerson born to be executioner."

I crossed my arms. "And the Heart of Darkness? What is it really?"

"The physical manifestation of the pact—a gemstone formed from our ancestors' crystallized blood. Whoever possesses it controls the curse." His eyes met mine. "Your father found it twenty-three years ago, shortly before you were born. He tried to destroy it, thinking that would break the cycle. Instead, it only ensured you would be the next executioner."

"Where is it now?"

"That's what your tattoo reveals—the hiding place where he concealed it after his failed attempt."

A sound from the chapel entrance made us both turn. Remy stood there, looking haggard but determined.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Frost's men were watching the roads."

I stared at him in confusion. "You really are working with Damien? After everything you said about him killing my father?"

Remy approached, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry for the deception, Miss Emerson. But we needed your hatred of Damien to be convincing—for Frost's benefit."

"And my father? Who really killed him?"

Remy and Damien exchanged glances. "A third party," Damien said carefully. "Someone who's been manipulating events from the beginning."

Before I could demand more information, Remy opened the satchel he carried, removing an antique wooden box. "I brought what you asked for."

Damien took the box, placing it on the altar. "Thank you. Now secure the perimeter. We don't have much time."

After Remy left, Damien opened the box, revealing an ornate revolver and a single bullet. "We've reached the endgame, Valentina."

My throat went dry. "What are you doing?"

"The only way to test if we can break the curse." He loaded the single bullet into the cylinder, then spun it. "One final game. Double roulette."

"You can't be serious."

"Never more so." He placed the gun on the altar between us. "The rules are simple. We take turns. If the chamber is empty, we continue. If not..." He shrugged. "Fate decides."

I backed away. "I'm not playing Russian roulette with you."

"The stakes are higher than just our lives." His eyes burned with intensity. "The wager is this: your freedom against our marriage."

"Marriage?" I nearly choked on the word. "You're insane."

"Perhaps. But according to the original text of the curse, there's only one way to break the cycle permanently—if the marked Blackwood and Emerson willingly bind themselves to each other, not in death, but in life."

I stared at him, trying to process his words. "You want to marry me to break the curse?"

"I want to offer you a choice." He gestured to the gun. "Freedom or marriage. Life or death. You decide."

Outside, thunder rumbled—a storm approaching. The candle flames flickered, casting dancing shadows across Damien's face as he waited for my answer.

"And if I refuse to play?"

"Then the compulsion will grow until you kill me anyway. It's already getting stronger—I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me."

He was right. Even now, part of me itched to reach for the gun, to end him and be done with it. The pull between us had grown almost unbearable, a physical ache that demanded resolution.

"One bullet," I said finally. "What's to stop me from just shooting you when it's my turn?"

His smile was sad. "Nothing. That's the point. True choice—kill me and go free, or risk your life alongside mine."

I approached the altar slowly, drawn by something beyond my control. The gun gleamed in the candlelight, deadly and beautiful. "Ladies first?" I asked bitterly.

"Age before beauty," he countered, picking up the revolver. "I'll start."

With practiced ease, he pressed the barrel to his temple, his eyes never leaving mine. I held my breath as his finger tightened on the trigger.

Click.

The empty chamber echoed in the chapel's silence. He exhaled slowly, then offered me the gun. "Your turn."

My hand trembled slightly as I took the weapon, its weight unfamiliar and terrifying. The metal was warm from his touch as I raised it to my own temple.

"Wait," Damien said suddenly. "There's something you should know before you pull that trigger."

"More secrets?" I kept the gun in place.

"The third party I mentioned—the one who killed your father. It wasn't a person." His voice was tight with controlled emotion. "It was an organization. The Keepers of the Veil. They've manipulated both our families for centuries, ensuring the curse continues."

"Why would anyone want that?"

"Because each time the curse completes—each time an Emerson kills a Blackwood—it generates power. Dark energy they harvest for their own purposes." He stepped closer. "Your father discovered this. That's why he hid the Heart of Darkness—to prevent them from continuing the cycle."

My finger hesitated on the trigger. "And Dr. Frost?"

"A high-ranking Keeper. He's been monitoring our blood bond, waiting for it to reach its peak before forcing the culmination."

I lowered the gun slightly. "You should have told me this sooner."

"Would you have believed me? Or would you have thought it another manipulation?" His eyes were sincere for perhaps the first time since we'd met. "Pull the trigger, Valentina. Let fate decide."

I raised the gun again, closed my eyes, and squeezed.

Click.

Another empty chamber. Relief and disappointment warred within me as I handed the gun back to Damien.

"Two down, four to go," he said, once more placing the barrel against his head.

Click.

Three empty chambers. The odds were shifting, the loaded chamber drawing closer with each pull of the trigger.

When he handed me the gun for my second turn, our fingers touched, sending a jolt of electricity between us. The blood bond pulsed stronger, my collarbone wound seeping fresh blood that stained my gown.

"It's growing stronger," Damien observed. "The curse knows we're trying to break it."

I pressed the cold metal to my temple once more. "If I die, what happens to you?"

"The curse remains unbroken. I'll live, but never free from its shadow." His voice softened. "I'd rather die by your hand than live with that fate."

I pulled the trigger.

Click.

Four empty chambers. Only two remained—one empty, one loaded.

Damien's turn. He took the gun, but instead of placing it against his head, he suddenly aimed it upward and fired.

BANG!

The shot echoed through the chapel as dust and debris rained down from above. I looked up in shock to see a glass vial shatter, releasing a cloud of noxious gas. A hidden trap—positioned directly above the altar.

"Frost," Damien growled, pulling me away from the spreading gas. "He's found us."

The chapel door burst open, Remy staggering in, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead. "Keepers," he gasped. "At least a dozen. They've surrounded the chapel."

Damien pushed me behind him, drawing a second gun from his jacket. "Get her to the passage beneath the altar. I'll hold them off."

"No!" I grabbed his arm. "The game isn't finished."

"There's no time—"

"There's always time for fate." I picked up the revolver from where he'd dropped it. One chamber remained, either empty or loaded—freedom or marriage, life or death. "Together."

Understanding dawned in his eyes. He placed his hand over mine on the gun, both of us gripping the weapon.

"On three," he said. "One..."

"Two..." I continued, our eyes locked.

"Three."

We pulled the trigger together, the gun aimed at the chapel door just as Dr. Frost appeared, flanked by masked figures in black.

The empty click was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.

"It seems fate has made its choice," Damien said softly.

Before Frost could reach us, Damien pulled me down behind the altar, activating a hidden mechanism. The floor opened beneath us, and we fell into darkness, the sounds of pursuit fading above.

We landed in a narrow tunnel lit by phosphorescent fungi. Damien helped me to my feet, his eyes gleaming in the eerie blue light.

"Now what?" I asked, breathless from the fall.

"Now we finish what we started." From his pocket, he withdrew a ring—black stone set in silver, matching his family crest. "The bullet was never in the gun, Valentina. I removed it before our game began."

"You cheated," I realized.

"I chose. Just as you did when you agreed to pull the trigger with me." He took my hand. "Will you marry me, here and now, in the place where our curse began? Will you choose to break the cycle not through death, but through life?"

Above us, we could hear the Keepers searching, their footsteps echoing through the chapel floor. Time was running out.

"This is insane," I whispered. "We barely know each other."

"We've known each other for centuries, through blood and destiny." His fingers traced my collarbone wound, then his own chest scar. "Our souls have been playing this game for generations. Isn't it time we changed the rules?"

In that moment, I saw our possible futures stretching before us—perpetual hunter and hunted, or something new, something untried. I thought of my father, who had died trying to break the curse, and of Damien, who had found another way.

"Yes," I said finally. "But on one condition."

"Name it."

"No more secrets. No more games."

He smiled—a real smile that transformed his face. "Except maybe cards occasionally. You're a terrible bluffer."

As the sounds of pursuit grew closer, Damien slipped the ring onto my finger. It burned cold against my skin, then warmed, the stone changing from black to deep red—the color of blood.

"With this ring, I break the cycle of death," he said, his voice taking on a ritual cadence. "Not as sacrifice, but as partner."

I placed my hand over his heart, feeling its steady beat beneath my palm. "With this touch, I reject the role of executioner. Not as killer, but as protector."

The tunnel began to shake, dust falling around us as the Keepers broke through the chapel floor above. Damien pulled me deeper into the passage, toward a faint light in the distance.

"There's an old gambling hall beneath the chapel," he explained as we ran. "Used by our ancestors before the curse. We can lose them there."

The passage opened into a vast underground chamber, once opulent but now decayed. Faded paintings adorned the walls, depicting scenes of revelry and games of chance. In the center stood a large circular table with a roulette wheel built into its surface.

Damien secured the passage door behind us, buying precious minutes. "One final game," he said, leading me to the table. "To seal our pact."

From a hidden compartment, he produced a small velvet pouch and emptied its contents onto the table—a single bullet, gleaming gold in the dim light.

"Is that—"

"The same coin I used to buy you at auction." He placed it on the roulette wheel. "Now we let fate decide where we go from here."

He spun the wheel with a flick of his wrist, the golden bullet dancing across the numbered segments as it rotated. Above us, the pounding grew louder—the Keepers breaking through.

As the wheel slowed, I placed my hand on his. "Whatever happens next, we face it together."

The bullet settled on a number just as the doors burst open, Dr. Frost leading a contingent of masked figures into the chamber.

"It's over, Blackwood," Frost called. "The cycle must continue."

Damien smiled at me, then turned to face our pursuers. "You're right, Doctor. The cycle continues—but not as you expect."

In a swift motion, he lifted the golden bullet from the wheel and threw it toward the ceiling. It exploded in midair, releasing a cloud of fire that engulfed the ancient gambling hall. The Keepers scattered in confusion as flames raced along the walls.

"Run!" Damien grabbed my hand, pulling me toward a concealed exit at the far end of the chamber.

Outside, dawn had fully broken, the storm passed, leaving the air clean and fresh. We stood on the cliff edge, the burning chapel behind us, the sea stretching endlessly before us.

Damien pulled me close, his eyes reflecting the rising sun. "Your tattoo—the map to the Heart of Darkness. Are you ready to find it? To end this completely?"

I touched my back, feeling the raised lines of the tattoo through my torn gown. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"What do you mean?"

I smiled, taking his hand and placing it over my heart. "Because I've already decided to change the tattoo. Instead of a map to darkness, it will be our wedding vows, written in ink and blood."

His eyes darkened with emotion as he pulled me against him. "And what vows would those be, Mrs. Blackwood?"

I reached up, tracing the scar on his lip from where I'd bitten him days ago. "That next time..." I whispered against his mouth, "I'll aim for your heart."

His laugh was genuine as he lifted me into his arms, the curse of generations transforming into something new—a bond chosen rather than forced, a game where both players could win.

Behind us, the Chapel of Sacred Blood burned, cleansing the past in flames. Ahead lay uncertainty, danger, and the continued pursuit of the Keepers. But for the first time in four hundred years, a Blackwood and an Emerson faced the future not as predator and prey, but as equals in a different kind of game—one where love was the highest stake of all.