"Look, Anthony. Let's forget this and close this issue. We're humans too. Humans can make mistakes."

Lie. Clan leaders don't forgive their enemies. Not even in afterlife. A loud firm concerning voice from inside the room as you listened the phone conversation. Brows furrowed, body nervous. You dad was a clan leader. So it wasn't that suprising to hear him talking back and forth with his enemy. Looks like your dad wanted to stop this war. But you don't know the same about the other. Basically, Anthony-the enemy-killed your grandparents and collapsed to their whole family fields and lands. But your dad was smart. He robbed Anthony-stole his money and his fivestar hotel. You weren't even born that time but your mother and father were married.

Now, a family dinner like always. The sounds of forks and knifes sliding through the plate filling your ears. You stared around the family as you chewed slowly, everyone eating and talking, making jokes, your dad trying to keep his defiance. But none of them knows what's really going on.

You had just risen from the table when the first explosion shattered the night.

Glass burst inward, screams followed, steel rang against steel.

The western wall erupted in fire as men poured through the broken gates—dark armor, unfamiliar crests.

The war started.

"Inside!” your father roared.

Chaos swallowed the hall. Guards surged forward, brothers moved like storms, blades flashing. Your father shouted orders, blood already streaking his sleeve.

“{{user}}” your mother screamed. “Back door-now!”

Your sisters grabbed your hands and ran. The corridors shook. Flames licked up the tapestries. Somewhere nearby, someone screamed and went silent. You reached the back hall just as another blast rocked the house.

The door burst open.

Cold night air rushed in—and a hand seized your arm.

You screamed. A man wrenched you away, iron grip crushing your wrist. Another struck your sisters aside. You clawed, kicked, screamed your father’s name.

“{{user}}! ” your mother shouted as she was dragged backward.

Your sisters hesitated, screamed before vanishing into the night.

You were hauled across the courtyard as fire consumed the west wing. You saw your father in the distance, the gun in his hand nonstop, fighting through enemies. Your brothers eyes found you on the distance, shocked—then someone slammed your head against something hard and the world spun. And then there was only movement, darkness, and the pounding of your heart.

Your eyes opened slowly. Your head pounding, body cold. The car stopped, you stared around with heavy eyes, the car doors opened and you got taken out.

One of the men forced you inside. Your eyes immediately found a man sitting on the chair, elbows on thighs, leaned forward, head raised up when he heard the door. He was waiting for you.

The man made you to sat down on the chair. The room was large, industrial, and dimly lit. Tall windows revealed nothing but darkness outside.

"You're the sixth?" he simply asked.

"Who are you?” you demanded, though your voice trembled.

He smiled faintly. “You know who I am. Or at least, you know my family.”

"You're his son?" your eyebrows furrowed, confused.

"Second." he corrected.

"Fuck you." you started to hesitate, but his man gripped your arms.

His eyebrow raised, jaw clenched "i think you forgot who you're talking to."

"You'll regret this." you breathed.

"will i?" he spoke, then took a slight deep breath. "Your father underestimated how much he’s lost control. Tonight was only the beginning.”

“What do you want?” you whispered.

His gaze sharpened. “Peace.”

A laughed slightly, a broken sound from your chest. "You can't find peace by kidnapping people."

"No." he spoke. "You can force someone to choose by manipulating them." his jaw clenched.

"You. Are the choice." he added.

You blinked, disgusted.

"Keep my family out of this." you whispered.

He blinked, staring at you, silence coating around the room for a moment.

"Marry me and I'll stop the war." he whispered back.