Chapter 3 — The Velvet Vows

Gabi

The Velvet Room was a world unto itself, a cocoon of crimson shadows and intoxicating music that seeped into the pores like smoke, insidious and inescapable. Velvet walls so dark they seemed to drink the light pulsed faintly, absorbing the low, thrumming tension of the gathered guests. The air was thick with the clash of conflicting perfumes, the tang of top-shelf whiskey, and beneath it all, the faint metallic edge of danger—a scent I was beginning to recognize.

I stepped inside, my heels sinking into the plush carpet, muffling the sound of my movements. The emerald silk of the dress they had chosen for me clung like a second skin, whispering against my legs as I moved. It wasn’t a choice—it was a statement. A declaration that I belonged to the Arivonese family now. But the dress didn’t feel like a badge of belonging. It felt like a collar, fitted with precision.

The mask Elise had handed me earlier hung lightly over my face, its black velvet cool against my skin. Not meant to disguise but to intrigue, it offered me a sliver of anonymity in this world of predators. Strangely, it made it easier to breathe. Easier to pretend. For tonight, at least, I was someone else. Someone who could survive this.

The crowd moved around me—a sea of silk gowns, sharp suits, and cold stares that lingered just long enough to pierce. Conversations floated like restless ghosts, spiked with laughter that never reached the eyes of those who smiled. I felt their glances—hooks meant to dissect me, measuring my worth and finding me wanting.

At the far end of the room, crimson drapery cascaded like blood pooling at Damon Arivonese’s feet. He stood beneath it, a figure of carved obsidian, his hawkish profile sharp and unyielding. Even when his gaze wasn’t fixed on me, I felt his presence, an oppressive force that seemed to pull the air from my lungs.

Beside him stood Tyler. A shadow. Cold and defined. His gray-blue eyes scanned the room with deliberate detachment, an armor that hid any hint of vulnerability. The tailored suit from earlier fit him like a second skin, but instead of softening him, it fortified the image of control he projected. When his gaze grazed mine—brief, indifferent—it left an icy trail in its wake. There was no warmth, no acknowledgment. Just calculation. He turned away before I could look for more, leaving me small in the cavernous space.

An arm brushed mine, and I turned to see Elise hovering close. Her mask shimmered faintly under the chandelier’s glow, its delicate embroidery catching flashes of light. Her green eyes darted nervously over the crowd, her fragile smile a thin thread of connection in this lonely sea.

“You look beautiful,” she whispered, her voice so soft it barely reached me.

“Thank you,” I murmured. The word felt hollow, a reflection of the emptiness in my chest. Beauty wasn’t protection. It was a weapon—wielded by others, never by me.

Elise fidgeted with the edge of her mask, her fingers trembling faintly. “You’ll be fine,” she said, her voice quivering with a note of forced reassurance. “Just… stay quiet. That’s what I do.”

Her words settled uneasily over me, cold and stifling. Stay quiet. Know your place. It was a mantra I had heard too many times, but the defiance simmering in my chest refused to let it take root entirely.

Before I could respond, a sharp, ringing tone cut through the air, silencing the murmured conversations. All eyes turned toward Damon, who raised a crystal glass in one hand, the dark red liquid within gleaming like blood.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice smooth and commanding, “tonight, we welcome a new addition to the Arivonese family. A union that strengthens our house and solidifies our legacy.”

His gaze swept over the room, deliberate and predatory, before locking onto me. The smile that curved his lips was cruelly precise, sharp enough to draw blood.

“Gabrielle Moreau,” he said, my name rolling off his tongue like a claim. “Now Gabrielle Arivonese.”

The applause that followed was polite, automatic—a ripple of sound that carried none of the warmth it feigned. My throat tightened, and I forced myself to stand taller, though it felt as though the weight of their eyes might crush me. My locket rested heavily against my chest, hidden beneath the silk of my dress, its edges pressing into my skin as if to remind me of what I had lost. My family. My freedom. My name.

Beside Damon, Tyler raised his glass. His movements were smooth, controlled, but there was a tension in the set of his jaw—a crack in his otherwise flawless armor. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to wonder about the man behind the mask of control. But the crowd’s applause swelled, and the moment dissolved.

Damon wasn’t finished. He lowered his glass, his smile sharpening into something colder, more dangerous.

“And let us not forget,” he said, his voice dipping into something darker, “what this union represents. A reminder that loyalty and duty are paramount in our world. Gabrielle’s family understood this well when they—”

“Damon.”

The word hit like a gunshot. Tyler’s voice, low and deliberate, cut through the air with a quiet authority that silenced the room. His gaze was fixed on his father, and though his expression remained unreadable, there was steel in his tone.

“That’s enough.”

The tension between them was palpable, a taut wire straining under the weight of unspoken conflict. The room held its breath as Damon’s smile froze, his dark eyes narrowing. For a moment, the air seemed to hum, charged with the threat of something breaking.

Then Damon chuckled, a sound as slick and insidious as oil. “Of course,” he said smoothly, raising his glass once more. “To the Arivonese family.”

The crowd echoed the toast, their voices a brittle harmony that failed to mask the undercurrent of unease. As the room fell back into the murmur of conversation, Damon’s gaze lingered on me, cold and calculating, before finally sliding away.

Elise squeezed my hand briefly before vanishing into the shadows, leaving me adrift once more. My eyes scanned the room instinctively, searching for a corner to retreat to, some shadow I could melt into. But there was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to breathe.

“You’ll want to avoid looking weak.”

His voice was low and sharp, cutting through the haze. I turned to find Tyler standing beside me, his presence a solid, unyielding force. He didn’t look at me directly, his gaze sweeping the room like a hawk surveying its prey.

“I’m not trying to look weak,” I said softly. But my voice trembled, betraying the lie.

His eyes flicked to mine, piercing and unrelenting. “Then don’t.” His tone was cold, but there was no malice in it. Just an unvarnished truth. “They’ll devour you if you let them.”

The words stung, but they lit something within me—a spark of defiance that refused to be extinguished. Straightening my spine, I lifted my chin just enough to meet his gaze without flinching.

“I’m not going to be devoured,” I said, my voice quiet but steady. The conviction in it surprised even me.

A flicker of something passed through his expression. Surprise? Approval? It was gone too quickly to name. He inclined his head slightly, almost imperceptibly, before stepping back into the crowd, his presence melting into the shadows.

I stood there, the velvet walls seeming to pulse around me, the mask pressing against my skin like the weight of another life. My fingers tightened around the locket beneath my dress, its edges grounding me as I drew a slow, steady breath.

I would survive this. I would learn.

And one day, I would be free.