THE BLIND SOVEREIGN: King of The Underworld

CHAPTER 4: The Bride from Hell

The shrill ring of a satellite phone on the fragile wooden table shattered the silence of dawn in Dante’s room. The sound pierced the air, echoing off the cold stone walls. Dante, who had been awake since four in the morning training his auditory sensitivity, reached out with startling precision for a man who had been blind for only two weeks.

He slid the screen upward. “Speak,” he said curtly.

“How was your sleep in your new palace, Brother?” Lorenzo’s voice came through with chilling clarity, accompanied by the clink of ice in a glass in the background. “I hope the rats weren’t too loud.”

“The rats here are far more polite than the ones in Milan, Lorenzo. What do you want?”

“I just wanted to give you a wedding present,” Lorenzo chuckled softly. “Good news. You’re getting married this morning, in less than two hours.”

Dante was silent for a moment. He could hear his own heartbeat, steady and controlled. “Who’s the victim?”

“Elena Rossi. You remember the Rossi family, don’t you? The one whose port business we destroyed last month? Her father, Antonio, committed suicide, or that’s the official version, after losing everything. Now his beautiful daughter will become your wife. Isn’t that beautiful diplomacy?”

“You’re giving the daughter of an enemy who hates us to a blind man who can’t defend himself. You’re not arranging a marriage, Lorenzo. You’re sending an executioner into my room.”

“Think of it as a test, Dante. If you can survive a woman who wants to slit your throat, maybe you deserve to keep breathing. Enzo has prepared your tuxedo. Don’t be late for the chapel. This is a wedding, not a funeral. At least, not yet.”

The call ended.

Dante set the phone back down. He took a deep breath, inhaling the damp scent of morning air. Moments later, his door was kicked open.

“Wake up, Groom. Time to get dressed,” Enzo shouted. Dante could smell alcohol on his breath. The man sounded like he had just finished partying all night.

“Put the clothes on the bed. I can dress myself,” Dante said coldly.

“Oh no, you can’t. Lorenzo wants you to look… presentable. We can’t have the Rossi family thinking we don’t take good care of our ‘assets,’” Enzo stepped closer, reaching for Dante’s shoulder. Dante shifted an inch to the side, Enzo’s hand grasping nothing but air.

“Don’t touch me, Enzo. Unless you want to lose three fingers in one second.”

Enzo froze. Dante’s voice was not loud, but it carried an authority that made the guard’s courage shrink for a brief moment. “Damn you, blind bastard. Get dressed, fast. The girl’s already waiting in the old chapel.”

The chapel on the Moretti estate was a seventeenth-century structure, half in ruins, its floor coated in thick dust, the scent of old incense mixed with bird droppings. There were no guests, no music, no flowers. Only a trembling old priest and a few armed guards standing in the corners.

Dante stood before the altar, his hands folded in front of him. He heard the heavy chapel doors open.

Sharp high heels struck the stone floor. The steps were firm, confident, yet there was a micro pause in each one, a sign of rage being tightly restrained. Dante inhaled. Jasmine and iron. The same scent as the person who had watched him the night before.

Elena Rossi.

She stopped beside him. Dante could feel the heat of her body and her hurried breathing.

“Don’t look at me like that, Elena,” Dante whispered without turning his head. “I can’t see how beautiful your dress is, or how sharp your stare might be.”

“I’m not wearing a wedding dress, Dante Moretti,” Elena’s voice was hoarse, dripping with venom. “I’m wearing mourning clothes. And the only reason I’m standing here is so I can be close enough to watch you suffer.”

“How romantic,” Dante replied flatly. “Father, please begin. Before my wife decides to burn me alive in this place.”

The ceremony was a farce, lasting barely ten minutes, devoid of sincere vows. When told to kiss the bride, Dante merely inclined his head, but Elena immediately turned her face away.

“Done. Take them back to the villa,” Enzo ordered roughly. “Lorenzo wants you to have a ‘memorable’ wedding night.”

That night, inside the stifling room, tension hung so thick it felt like it could be cut with a knife. Dante sat on a wooden chair near the nailed-shut window, while Elena stood on the other side of the room.

“You know they locked the door from the outside?” Dante said, breaking the silence.

“I don’t care,” Elena replied. Dante heard the rustle of fabric, she seemed to be removing her jacket. “You think I’m afraid of you? A man who doesn’t even know where he’s standing?”

“I know exactly where I’m standing, Elena. I’m standing in a room twenty square meters wide, with a woman hiding a dagger behind the stocking on her right leg.”

Elena gasped. A faint metallic sound followed. “How did you—”

“Your steps are heavier on the right. You drag your heel slightly to balance the weight of the metal. And the smell… the weapon oil you used on that dagger is very strong.”

“You’re a demon,” Elena hissed. Suddenly, fast footsteps closed in. Dante felt the sharp movement of air.

In an instant, Elena was in front of him. The cold tip of a dagger pressed directly against Dante’s throat.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t rip your throat open right now,” Elena shouted, tears audible in her voice. “My father died because of your filthy deals. You destroyed our lives.”

Dante did not move. He did not even blink as the blade lightly grazed his skin. “If you cut my artery now, you’ll only kill a man who’s already been punished, Elena. But you’ll never avenge your father.”

“You’re his murderer. Lorenzo said you signed the execution order for that asset.”

“Lorenzo lied to you, just like he lied to me,” Dante lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Use your head, Elena. If I did it, why am I here now, blind and discarded, while Lorenzo sits on the throne?”

Elena’s hand trembled slightly. “That’s… that’s just part of your games.”

“Your father didn’t commit suicide,” Dante continued, ignoring her doubt. “He was killed by someone using my personal access code. A code only my brother knew. If you kill me now, you’ll only help Lorenzo erase the last witness who knows the truth behind Antonio Rossi’s death.”

“You’re just saying this to save your life.”

“My life lost its value the moment I lost my eyes,” Dante raised his hand, moving slowly until his fingers closed around Elena’s wrist holding the knife. She tried to pull away, but his grip was firm and unwavering. “You want revenge? So do I. You want to see Lorenzo destroyed? I’ll make it happen.”

“How could a blind man like you possibly do that?” Elena scoffed, though her voice was beginning to weaken.

Dante pulled Elena’s hand closer, forcing the dagger to press more firmly against his neck. “Because in this darkness, I can see things Lorenzo overlooks. I know where he hides his money. I know which allies can be bought. And I know how to destroy his empire without firing a single shot.”

Elena stared at Dante’s scarred face. There was something in his calm that sent a chill through her, a power that did not come from muscle, but from a deep and terrifying inner void.

“You want me to trust you?” Elena asked coldly.

“I don’t need your trust. I need your eyes,” Dante released her wrist. “Be my eyes out there. Be my eyes at the parties I can’t attend. In return, I’ll place Lorenzo’s head on a silver platter for you.”

Elena pulled the dagger back, stepping away. She looked at Dante with a mix of hatred and curiosity. “If you betray me, I’ll make sure you die far more slowly than you did in that explosion on the ship.”

Dante smiled faintly, a smile that looked terrifying under the moonlight slipping through the cracks in the window. “A fair deal.”

“So what now?” Elena asked, sheathing her dagger.

“Now we pretend to be a happy couple,” Dante stood and walked toward the bed with unwavering steps, as if he could see every grain of wood on the floor. “You sleep there. I’ll take the floor.”

“Why?”

“Because Enzo will come by soon to check if we’re ‘enjoying’ our wedding night. If he doesn’t hear anything, he’ll get suspicious.”

Elena frowned. “What do you mean by ‘hear something’?”

Dante picked up a bottle of wine from the table and poured it onto the floor so it sounded like liquid spilling, then knocked the chair over to create a loud crash.

“Scream a little, Elena. Give them the show they want.”

Elena hesitated, then realized Dante’s plan. She took a deep breath and let out a cry of frustration loud enough to reach the corridor outside.

From beyond the door, Enzo’s laughter echoed as it moved away. “Sounds like they’re having fun, Rico.”

Dante returned to the dark corner of the room. “Welcome to my world, Elena. This isn’t a marriage. It’s a declaration of war.”

Elena sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the back of her blind husband. For the first time since her father’s death, she felt something other than despair. She felt real danger, yet strangely, that danger felt like the only hope she had left.

“Dante?” Elena called softly.

“Yes?”

“If you really know who pulled the trigger on my father… make sure he suffers before you kill him.”

“That’s the only vow I intend to keep in this marriage,” Dante replied coldly.

Silence returned, but within that room, a lethal alliance had been born. In the darkness of Tuscany, the Oracle had just acquired his first weapon, and that weapon had eyes that were beautiful, and deadly.