chapter 1

Standing at the altar, in front of everyone he loved and cherished, Silius couldn't bring himself to look at him. But he could feel him. He could feel that stare burning into his skin from somewhere in the crowd — intense, unwavering, and hauntingly familiar.

It wasn't new. It never had been. Mathew had always watched him like that, like an eagle eyeing its prey: silent, calculating, possessive. The kind of stare that didn't ask permission to exist. It simply took up space in a room and dared anyone to challenge it.

The smirk on Mathew's face only grew wider as the seconds dragged on, feeding off Silius's anxiety the way a leech feeds off blood — patient, certain, satisfied. Silius felt sick. His stomach twisted into knots so tight he thought he might fold in on himself right there in front of the altar, in front of God, in front of everyone. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to run — run far, and never look back.

But he knew Mathew. Mathew would follow. Even to the depths of hell, even if it meant burning down everything in his path just to get to him.

Slowly, like his neck had turned to stone, Silius lifted his head. His eyes drifted toward the rows of familiar faces — his mother, his father, his brother, sitting in the front row, smiling. So happy. So proud. They didn't know. They couldn't see the invisible chains wrapped around his wrists, hidden beneath the lace of his wedding attire. They didn't hear the silent scream lodged in his throat, and they didn't feel the weight of the eyes boring into his soul from across the altar.

They thought he was marrying the love of his life.

The truth was something else entirely. He was marrying the cage he would never escape.

They thought this was a fairytale — a beautiful ending to a beautiful story. But that was so far from the truth it was almost laughable. This wasn't love. Silius wasn't a partner. He was a possession. He was Mathew's obsession, twisted and dark, cloaked in smiles and carefully rehearsed affection, dressed up to look like devotion so that no one watching would ever think to ask questions.

They didn't know. And they didn't need to.

If staying quiet kept them safe — if smiling through the pain meant Mathew would never lay a hand on them — then Silius would play the role. He would stand here, dressed for a celebration, and vow himself to a man who only knew how to take, never to love. He would lie through his teeth with a trembling smile and kiss a mouth that tasted like control. Because if it came down to him or his family, he would bleed for them every single time.

The priest's voice broke through the haze, steady and unaware of the storm beneath the surface. "Mathew Volkov, do you take Silius as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, until death do you part?"

"I do," Mathew said, and smiled — that same smile that never failed to make Silius's skin crawl, smooth and warm on the surface, hollow underneath.

The priest turned. "Silius, do you take Mathew Volkov as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, until death do you part?"

Silius's lips wouldn't move. He couldn't say it. He had to say it. But deep down he knew — once the words left his mouth, there would be no escape from him. He would forever be in Mathew's clutches. Mathew wouldn't even let him die in peace.

But he had to do it. For his family. He couldn't be selfish, not after everything they'd sacrificed for him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was scared — scared of what might happen next, scared of the silence stretching too long, scared of the look that would cross Mathew's face if he hesitated even a second more.

"You know you're making everyone wait, right?" Mathew murmured, leaning close enough that only Silius could hear, his breath warm against his ear. "Including your family~"

It wasn't a question. It was a leash, pulled gently taut.

Silius felt his father's eyes on him from the front row, that same proud, glowing smile aimed his way. He put on a fake smile to match it. *I'm sorry,* he thought. *I'm deceiving everyone.*

The priest, sensing the pause had gone on long enough, simply said, "Let's just begin then~" and continued without missing a beat, as if nothing strange had happened at all.

Silius clenched his fist at his side, nails biting into his palm hard enough to ground him in something real.

"I... I do," he whispered, looking down, unable to meet anyone's eyes — not the priest's, not his family's, and especially not Mathew's.

"I now announce you husband and husband," the priest declared. "You may now kiss to seal the marriage."

Mathew's smile didn't fade. If anything, it sharpened.

He wrapped his hands around Silius's waist and pulled him closer, and Silius let out a gasp when their chests collided. Mathew tilted his head up with two fingers beneath his chin, forcing him to look at him. Silius closed his eyes, feeling something in that gaze that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with hunger — intense, almost psychotic in its certainty.

The next thing he knew, Mathew's lips were on his.

They were officially married.

Applause rose around them, warm and unaware, swallowing the moment whole. Somewhere in that sound were the people who loved him most in the world, clapping for a future they believed was safe. Silius let the kiss happen. He let his body go still and pliant in Mathew's arms, the way he'd learned to over the years, the way a person learns to survive a storm by simply not fighting the wind.

That's not a statement, he reminded himself. That's a threat. A silent warning laced in that smile — Mathew's psychotic, unshakable smile. Silius looked at him and, for a second, forgot to breathe. Not out of awe. Because of the suffocating fear that wrapped around his throat every time their eyes met.

He hated him. He hated him for making him feel this helpless, for turning him into someone he no longer recognized — weak, vulnerable, caged.

*When did everything turn out like this?*

Everything had been perfect, once, years ago — before Mathew had come back into his life and unraveled it thread by thread. Silius wished, more than anything, that he had never met him.

But wishing had never once made Mathew Volkov disappear.

And as the crowd cheered and the doves were released into the pale afternoon sky, Silius stood in his white wedding attire beside the man who owned him in every way but legally documented love, and understood, with a clarity that felt like drowning, that this was only the beginning.