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I bask in the drama, pulling open that door into the small foyer where my father gasps loudly as he waits to walk me down the aisle. I confidently move past him, glancing at every single person that just stood up in the pews of the church, all gasping or gaping in shock and confusion, and I fucking smile at each and every one of them.
There aren’t many anyway. My mother, my brother, and maybe a dozen other people I don’t recognize. I doubt they’re friends, maybe guards.
The man in question stands at the altar, trying but failing to contain his astounded expression, falling into displeasure. The priest, a step behind him, is completely pale as he takes me in, and I kind of feel for him. I know him; he’s a good man, and I know he was forced into this situation just as I was. Only he doesn’t look like he just slaughtered something—I do. Yet again that thought widens the smile that pulls at my lips.
I don’t falter in my steps as I head straight for Ryan, standing next to him, my eyes fixed on the priest, who flinches, forcing his gaze to return to his bible, even as it flickers between the book and my bloody dress.
“What the fuck did you do?” I hear his gritty voice next to me, and with a serene feeling settling deep in my chest, I turn my head to him.
“The man you sent after me, he spilled.” I smile and turn my attention back to the priest, who closes his mouth just as I look at him, his eyes wide enough that I’m sure it hurts.
“You killed him?!” Ryan doesn’t sound happy with my reply.
“Oh no… he died all on his own.” I pause for a few seconds, then turn completely toward him. “Is there a problem?” I grab onto the sides of my dress, lifting it ever so slightly, and look down at it. “I think this looks rather pretty, better than it did when I first put it on.”
My theatrics are fueled further as I begin to twirl on the gasps that sound from the pews. I stop, facing Ryan, who seems to have taken a step back, a slightly disgusted look on his face.
“Stop it!” he rasps between gritted teeth.
“Wait a second. Did you think that I would make this easy for you? You goddamn gaslighting, abusive piece of shit. You thought that you would force me into marriage as a price for some deal you made with my degenerate father, kidnap me, then burn down my fucking house and business, put my best friend in danger, and I would just roll over and ask for more? I am done, darling fiancé. You’ve put me down long enough, and the funny thing is… when one realizes that there’s nothing left to lose… all bets are off.” I take a small step toward him, feeling the madness that seeps out of my gaze. “And they are definitely off. If I have to go into this, I’m going in all guns blazing.”
All of a sudden, the heavy double doors of the church burst open, bright light floods the space, and I get to witness the most beautiful sight, one that makes me want to jump in joy.
As one man is thrown in and slides across the stone floor halfway down the aisle, the only thing I can call the others are warriors at the end of a battle. Dirty, bloody, their steps heavy and assured as they follow the injured man that curls into himself, moaning.
They command the room into stunned silence, some of the witnesses dropping their gazes to the floor, wishing they would suddenly be invisible, as they stop in the middle of the aisle, right where the broken man is lying, their attention right on us. They look vicious, yet with an eerie calmness in their bones, their confidence profoundly boosted by whatever trials they’ve just been through.
Only the man whose terrifying gaze is fixed on me has no business looking that fucking attractive covered in bruises and blood.
I greet him with a calm, sweet smile on my lips.
“Hi.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
VINCENT
“Hi,” I greet her back, and her smile widens in an impossible happiness that I put there. I would crumble to the fucking ground and kiss her feet if that son of a bitch wasn’t standing next to her right now. If none of them were standing around us right now.
The moment my gaze fell on the bloody princess standing in front of that altar, the shade of red I saw before my eyes was more visceral than the one that stained her skin and dress. In that moment, all I wanted was to put a bullet in every single person who simply stood there, watching her agony. My fucking Eve… he hurt her. They fucking hurt her!
Only the reckless woman looked at me like I hung the fucking moon the second I burst through those doors. A beautiful sparkle filled her eyes, and suddenly the blood splattered over her freckled skin, looked goddamn gorgeous on her. It belonged in her chaos, because that smile when she greeted me, the way she carried herself covered in that crimson, told me what I needed to know—none of it was her blood, but she definitely was the cause of it.
My crazy, beautiful Eve.
The whole room is silent, apart from the moans of the piece of crap lying on the floor before us, who now tries to get up on his feet. As my gaze moves to Holt, I cock my head and wait for him to understand who he’s looking at.
“What is the meaning of this?!” It’s O’Rourke that gets up first, feigning some sort of confusion in this situation.
“We were hurt we were not invited to this… happy affair. So we decided to invite ourselves. With the help of Holt’s friend over here.” I hear Finn behind me.
“What are you talking about? Who is that man?” O’Rourke continues.
“Oh, I’m sorry, the bruises on his face might confuse you. This is Jackson Davenport,” I say with a posh transatlantic accent. “Better known as the piece of trash Lester Boseman, Ryan Holt’s best man. We thought you might need him at the wedding, so we brought him to you.”
I don’t miss the way Ryan fidgets slightly, and if I were him, knowing what he knows, I would too.
“You might be confused, Mr O’Rourke. You thought you were Holt’s partner, but I hate to be the bearer of bad news, you’re just the bank account. Nothing more, nothing less.” I kick Boseman and slide him farther onto the floor, so I can move a tad closer, but also because I really fucking enjoy hearing him moan in pain.
