“I’m sorry, Laikyn, but the wedding is still on.” He sighs.
And what little hope I had is now smothered. “But Miller said Luke’s missing.” I point at my brother. Had my father received the same phone call that my brother did? Or was it someone else?
“You are no longer to wed Luke.” He yanks on the collar of his tux.
Picking up the dress so I don’t trip over it in my six-inch hooker heels—that my soon-to-be husband also picked out—I take a step back, my heart picking up speed. This is good news. Why does he look so concerned? “I don’t understand. If he’s not here—”
“A new Lord has chosen you,” he interrupts me.
My mother places her hand over her mouth, trying to quiet a sob.
“No,” I argue. “That can’t be.” It was decided that Luke would be my husband when I was eighteen—three years ago. Things like this aren’t just changed at the last minute. I’ve lived the last few years preparing for this day. To be his wife. What he wanted. A Lord can’t choose to marry me, not when I’m already promised to another.
“Who?” my brother demands. “Who in the hell would make this change?” He fists his hands at his sides.
I reach up and grab the pearls my mother gave me. She thought they would give me some kind of comfort, and I laughed, but now I hold on to them as if they’re an anchor to a lifeline.
“I—” The door swings open once again, this time hitting the interior wall and making me jump.
A set of baby-blue eyes meet mine, and my stomach drops. The wind knocked out of me. I haven’t seen them in years, but they’ve haunted my dreams ever since.
Three yearsago
“Where is she?” my mother demands, entering the hospital. She received a phone call that my sister was brought in tonight, but no other information was given.
“Ma’am—”
“Where is my daughter?” she screams at the nurse, pounding on the check-in desk.
I turn around to see my sister’s boyfriend walking toward us. His white T-shirt and jeans are covered in blood, and my chest tightens to the point it restricts my air.
My mom’s legs give out when she sees him. “N-o,” she chokes, placing her shaking hand over her mouth.
Tyson catches her and holds her body to his, but his baby-blue eyes meet mine, sending a chill down my spine so cold, it’s paralyzing. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “She’s gone.”
“Tyson,”my brother growls, shoving me to the side and pulling me out of that memory, and steps in front of me. “What are you …?”
Ryat, Tyson’s best friend, slams the door shut just as hard as he opened it.
I take a step back, tripping over the dress, but thankfully, the stained glass stops me from falling to my ass.
“How?” my father demands, turning to face him.
Tyson just gives him an evil smile that reminds me of how fucked up he really is. “Leave us,” he orders.
Just the sound of his voice makes my legs want to buckle, but I manage to stay standing.
“I will not!” My father sidesteps to block their view of me.
Tyson takes the steps to close the small space between them and leans in, whispering in my father’s ear. His cold, baby-blue eyes are on mine, and even if he were screaming at my father, I wouldn’t be able to hear him over the pounding in my chest and the blood rushing in my ears. Sweat instantly beads across my forehead, and I’m having trouble catching my breath at the sight of him. Suddenly, the extravagant dress is too tight. The expensive material an anchor, pulling me down into a bottomless sea.
My father grabs my mother’s hand and pulls her from the room, leaving me. My brother goes to step out, but Ryat grabs his tuxedo jacket, yanking him back into the room. “You may stay,” Ryat tells him.
“Get the fuck out!” my brother yells at them. “Or I’ll call security.”
“Go ahead.” Tyson shrugs. “I replaced your guards with my own.”
I raise my sweaty hands. “What … what are you doing here?” Luke would never invite them to our wedding. He hates Tyson. I’m not sure how he feels about Ryat, though. But I can almost guarantee he’s not a fan due to the fact that he’s Tyson’s best friend. It’s that guilty by association thing.
