Very soon, my husband.
I think about what Brendan Kearney said—about needing a strong hand, about being ‘broken in properly.’ The words make my skin crawl, but they also terrify me because I don't know if that's what Sean is. I don't know if he's the kind of man whowould hurt me, who would force me, who would treat me like property to be used.
Connor said he'd keep me safe. But safe from whom? From outside threats, surely. But who will keep me safe from him?
I'm going to have to let him touch me.The thought hits me suddenly, viscerally, and my stomach churns. He's going to be my husband. He'll have rights to my body. He'll expect… he'll want…
I can't finish the thought. Can't let myself imagine it. The idea of that cold, hateful man touching me, of being vulnerable and naked with him, of having to submit to whatever he wants?—
I'm going to be sick.
I barely make it to the bathroom attached to the office before I'm retching into the sink, my whole body shaking. There's nothing in my stomach to come up, but my body heaves anyway, trying to purge the fear and horror that have no physical form.
When it finally stops, I sink down on the cold tile floor, my back against the wall, and for the first time in days, I can’t stop myself from crying. Not quiet, dignified tears, but ugly, gasping sobs that tear out of my chest like something dying, like I want to howl and scream for everything I’ve lost. I cry for my father and Desmond and Siobhan, for my absent mother, for the possibility of anything better than what I’ve been left with. For a life that could have had the barest hope of happiness.
All of that is gone now.
In two weeks, I'll be Maeve Flannery. Wife of the Wolf. A prisoner in my own life.
And there's nothing I can do to stop it.
When the tears finally dry up, I feel hollow again. Empty. I drag myself up, rinse my face with cold water, and look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are red and swollen, my face blotchy. I can’t imagine any man wanting me, but I suppose that doesn’tmatter. Sean Flannery doesn’t have to want me. He just has to marry me.
Once again, I think about running. Going somewhere the Council can't find me, somewhere Sean Flannery can't reach me. But the same obstacles are still there. I didn’t find any identification that I could use to function in the world in the office. No documents to prove who I am, rent an apartment, get a job. No information about the accounts so I could access any of the fortune I keep getting told that I have.
And anyway, now that I know what their plan is for me, it’s even more impossible. Where would I go? How would I hide? The Council has connections everywhere, and Sean is a professional killer. They'd find me. And when they did…
No. Running isn't an option.
Neither is refusal. I can’t fight this. I can’t hide from it. I can’t get away.
All that's left is acceptance.
I walk slowly back to my room, Fluff meowing plaintively when I enter. I pick her up, burying my face in her soft fur and letting her purrs vibrate against my chest. She's warm and alive and uncomplicated, and for a moment, I envy her so much it hurts.
"It's going to be okay," I whisper to her. "We'll figure it out. We'll survive this. We have to."
But I don't believe the words even as I say them, because I saw the look in Sean Flannery's eyes when he looked at me, and it wasn't the look of a protector.
It was the look of a man who'd been given a burden he resented, a job he didn't want, a wife he already hated.
In two weeks, I'll belong to him.
And I have no idea if I'll survive it.
4
MAEVE
The morning after the Council's visit, I wake up hoping it was all a nightmare. But the memory of the night before comes rushing back, and I know that I’m not going to be so lucky.
There’s no ring on my finger, no betrothal contract signed in front of a priest, but I’m engaged all the same.
I'm getting married in two weeks to a man who hates me.
Mrs. Brady has breakfast waiting for me when I come down, hot steel-cut oats with berries and cream and maple syrup, but I can hardly manage even a bite of it. Suddenly starving myself to death seems like a viable option, but she looks so distressed when she comes back in with tea for me and sees that I haven’t even begun to eat that I can’t help but try.
I choke down several bites before she comes back in to let me know that there’s a call for me.
