“You really leave no room for surprises, huh?”I jab.
“You know Bay is me. And me is—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”I sigh.
Instead offakinga murder scene between families—why not let them do it for real?
No bride, no wedding.
Good luck explaining that to the Petrovs, Fedor.
And your daughter?
I hope she doesn’t cry too hard when you’re gone.
A loud thud hits the sidewalk, snapping Bay’s attention from her phone. We both turn to look at the glamorous bride.
She dropped her heels before she jumped—landed barefoot on the other side… right on her ass.
Good at climbing. The landing part? Needs improvement.
I chuckle, realizing that ridiculous dress might’ve actually cushioned her fall.
“Let’s go.” I grin. “We’ve got a bride tosave.”
Roran
Irub my back, hissing at the sharp pain crawling up from my tailbone. That jump was definitely stupid, but I won’t let them lock me up again. Not when Diana is missing.
He promised me she’d be safe. And here I am, stuffed into this white dress I’ve come to loathe more than the idea of the wedding itself… and Diana is nowhere to be found.
That night, I’d stashed ten vials in the back of the van, weighing them in my small bag like treasure, careful not to make a sound. Diana grabbed five, but they tumbled across the pavement as we ran. Footsteps pounded behind us, shadows flickering in the streetlights. We didn’t dare stop. Not once. Someone had already heard us.
The street entrance should have been safe. Should have.
Then a hand clamped over my shoulder. One of Father’s men. His grip was iron, and the smell of him—sweat and smoke—made my stomach twist. He called Father, and that was the sound of the world cracking open beneath me.
I’ve been trapped ever since, accused of ruining the plan with Ivan. Diana? God only knows. Hidden. Somewhere. Safe… I can only hope.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes. My chest tightens. I force my mind away from imagining what she’s going through, but every second stretches. I pray—desperate—to any god who’ll listen: just keep her alive until I can reach her.
“Look at that lost bride,” a man’s voice cuts through the silence, startling me.
Barefoot, I freeze.
Shit. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I’m convinced the whole neighborhood can hear it.
“And they say brides shine brightest on their wedding day…”
Is he mocking me?
I spin around fast.
The man’s getting closer. His shoes don’t click like the others. Not like my father’s men with their stiff leather old-fashioned man-heels. He’s in white sneakers—expensive-looking, but quiet.
My eyes trail up from his jeans to a loose white button-down shirt, open low enough to reveal a scarred chest. Not just any scars—shapes. Strange ones. Everywhere.
Then he clears his throat, and I meet his eyes.
