Sphnix2025

In the heart of a crime-ridden metropolis, Vincent Moreau, the cold and calculating heir to the Moreau Syndicate, navigates a world built on blood, power, and betrayal. Raised by a ruthless father who molded him into a weapon of war, Vincent has never known love—only control and dominance.

Everything changes when Celeste Laurent, a rising star in the entertainment industry, becomes a pawn in a twisted game of power. To settle an old debt, she is forced into an arranged marriage with Vincent—a man whose reputation is soaked in cruelty and blood. Celeste, who has spent her life running from her dark past, finds herself shackled to a man feared by even the most hardened criminals.

But secrets run deep. Celeste isn’t just a singer—she is the daughter of a former detective murdered in cold blood while investigating the Moreau Syndicate. And she has been searching for answers, unaware that the man she is bound to may hold the key to the truth.

As betrayals unfold and old enemies resurface, Vincent and Celeste are forced into an uneasy alliance. While Celeste tries to navigate her husband's dangerous world, Vincent finds himself drawn to her defiance—an attraction that threatens the iron control he has spent years cultivating.

But love in their world is a dangerous illusion. Surrounded by conspiracies, blackmail, and murder, will Celeste uncover the truth about her father’s death before it’s too late? And can Vincent protect her from the very darkness that made him who he is?

Crimson Chains.

Vincent's words still lingered in her mind, weaving themselves into the very fabric of her thoughts.

For so long, she had been at the mercy of others—her father, the world of high society, and now, Vincent. But for the first time, she wasn't just being forced to submit. He was offering her something else.

She didn't trust him. She would be a fool to.

The training room was unlike anything Celeste had seen before.

It wasn't grand like the ballroom or suffocating like Vincent's office. It was raw—stripped of elegance, designed for one thing only. Survival.

Vincent stood at the center, dressed in a fitted black shirt with his sleeves rolled up, revealing the inked lines that curled around his forearms like serpents. His stance was relaxed, but the danger was ever-present in the way he carried himself.

"Pick one," he said, nodding toward the array of weapons mounted on the wall.

She reached for the knife. It felt familiar in her grip, lighter than the one she had held before.

Vincent watched her, amusement flickering in his cold gaze. "Interesting choice."

Celeste met his stare. "You expected me to pick the gun."

He smirked. "A gun gives you instant power. A knife forces you to get close."

She tightened her grip. "Close is where the real damage happens."

Vincent chuckled. "Then show me what you've learned."

Before she could react, he lunged.

Celeste barely had time to move before he was on her, his hand wrapping around her wrist like iron. With a sharp twist, the knife slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the mat below.

Vincent leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Too slow."

Anger flared inside her. Without thinking, she drove her knee up—aiming for his ribs.

Vincent caught her leg with ease, his grip tightening. "Better," he murmured. "But predictable."

Celeste gritted her teeth. "Then teach me."

He held her there for a moment, the tension between them crackling like fire.

Hours later, Celeste's body ached. Her skin was slick with sweat, her muscles screaming in protest.

A single, calculated strike to Vincent's ribs.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

Vincent studied her, his gaze sharp. "Pain is a teacher. Learn from it."

Celeste wiped her brow, refusing to show weakness. "And if I refuse to let it break me?"

He stepped closer, his fingers tracing a phantom line along the side of her jaw. "Then you'll be unstoppable."

She should have pulled away. She should have feared him.

But in that moment, she only felt the thrill of power shifting between them.

That night, as Celeste stood in front of the mirror, she saw the bruises forming along her arms, the faint marks where Vincent had pinned her down.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

Lucien entered, his usual calm unreadable. "He's taking you to the gala tomorrow night."

Lucien nodded. "A gathering of power. Politicians, businessmen, criminals. If you thought today was a fight, tomorrow will be a war."

She exhaled. "And Vincent wants me there?"

Lucien studied her. "You're not just a pawn anymore, Celeste. He's putting you on display."

This wasn't just about survival anymore.

her not as a victim—but as something far more dangerous.

Chapter 10: Bound by Fire