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“And I’ve accepted the extra work I’m going to have to do to break your willful granddaughter into a wife I can use. We all have our crosses to bear.”
She doesn’t even bat an eye at his casual talk of abusing me, and my stomach clenches into a knot as my imagination runs wild, dozens of horrible scenarios running through my mind.
As I work to keep myself from vomiting, the two of them go back and forth in a last bit of negotiation, solidifying the deal they’ve worked out together. Apparently, my disappearing act has made Olivia have to give up some ground in their bargain, but I can’t even take pleasure in knowing that. Because Troy is clearly going to take his anger out on me one way or another, and Olivia isn’t going to do a thing to stop him.
In the end, they both seem to be… if not satisfied, then at least in agreement. Olivia rises from the couch, coming to stand behind me.
One of Troy’s guards moves to the front of the room, and Troy smirks at my look of confusion.
“What? Were you expecting a priest? I told you this wedding wouldn’t be elaborate, and anyone can get ordained on the internet these days. All we need is a witness, and this marriage will be legally binding.”
He gestures for his guy to begin with a sharp jerk of his chin.
“We’re here today to witness the marriage of Troy Copeland and Willow Hayes,” the man intones in his deep voice.
The words twist around me like invisible ropes, and the room goes in and out of focus around me. The drugs Troy gave me have mostly worn off, but they’re still in my system, making me feel weak-limbed and disoriented. I shoot a quick glance around the room, looking for any way out—but I can’t see one.
Troy’s guards have stationed themselves around the space, and between them, my grandmother, and Troy, there are half a dozen people who will try to stop me if I make a run for it. There’s no way I’d get out of here in one piece.
It’s so surreal, standing rooted to the spot as the words of a basic, perfunctory wedding ceremony are read out in the quiet room.
It was different the first time, when I agreed to walk down the aisle with Troy because I thought it would keep the guys safe. When it was a choice I made, however much I hated it. Now I have no idea where the guys are, or even if…
I have to swallow hard a few times past the lump in my throat.
Vic was shot.
He was on the ground when I last saw him. But I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll fall apart completely, and I can’t let that happen.
Troy’s goon drones on for another minute, but I barely process the words he’s saying. When he turns to Troy, asking him if he promises to stay with me in sickness and health, it’s a struggle not to laugh hysterically.
Troy grabs my hand roughly, slipping a ring on my finger. Then he squeezes my hand so tightly that the metal of the ring digs into the adjoining fingers, a triumphant, ugly smile spreading across his face.
“I do,” he says, and it may as well be a death sentence.
“And do you, Willow Hayes, take Troy Copeland to be your lawfully wedded husband…”
I don’t even listen to the rest. None of it matters. None of it means anything. Part of me wants to refuse, to tell Troy and Olivia that I’d rather die.
And maybe that’s true. Maybe I would rather die than face what comes next… but I can’t.
Because if there’s a chance the Voronin brothers are still alive, then I have to stay alive too.
When Troy’s man stops speaking and looks at me expectantly, something twists in my gut. A gaping hole opens up in my chest, ragged and raw, as I swallow hard and whisper, “I do.”
Troy’s lips curve into a self-satisfied smile.
“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Michigan, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
The smile on Troy’s face shifts to something much less pleasant, and he leans in, gripping my chin hard. I don’t jerk away, but every atom in my body crawls at his touch, and when he kisses me hard, I feel sick to my stomach.
Olivia nods when Troy finally releases me, allowing me to jerk my head back. She eyes me with that cool expression, her eyes so emotionless that I think she truly must be a sociopath.
“It’s done. Finally,” she says. “I know you probably think this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you right now, Willow. But one day, you will appreciate what I did for you.”
Without another word, she turns to go. Troy’s bodyguards step out of her way as she leaves, letting the door swing shut behind her.
I stare at the door, almost shocked that she still thinks that. As if this could ever be anything other than a cruelty. As if this could ever help me. Nothing Troy could offer is anything I want, and nothing their world of money and lies could provide will do anything to help me out of the hell she’s consigned me to.
