“What a pussy.”
Yep.
“His name was Darius,” I said, lifting my mug to my lips.
“Sure,” she replied, unimpressed.“But I like dickhead.”
???
“Oh my goodness,” my mother gasped, rushing toward me.“Oh my girl, you will knock them dead.”
“Stop hogging the girl and let me see,” my grandmother said.
“You look like a queen,” my dad murmured.
“If only I could see her,” my grandmother muttered, making me chuckle.
My dad smiled at his mother as I released my mum from our embrace.
“I suppose I don’t matter,” my grandfather sniffed.
“It’s good that you know your place,” his wife replied.
My grandmother sighed as she looked at me, swallowing hard before her eyes began to well up.
The dress flowed around me in rich, sun-warmed tones—burnt amber and deep gold threaded with midnight blue, the pattern bold and unapologetic. The fabric gathered at my waist before falling into a full skirt that brushed my ankles, moving like liquid when I shifted.
One shoulder was bare, the neckline slanting elegantly across my collarbone, while the back dipped low, crossed with slender straps that framed my spine instead of hiding it. It wasn’t delicate. It didn’t beg for approval. It stood its ground.
The material was soft but structured, holding its shape the way I’d learned to—unbending, resilient. Every step felt grounded. Deliberate. This wasn’t a dress meant to disappear into a room.
It was meant to arrive.
My grandmother placed her hand over my half-braided hair, smoothing her fingers along the plaits before brushing them into the curls that rose around my head like a haloed crown.
She knew why I’d chosen the style.
“May the evil eye perish before it dares rest upon you, my child,” she said softly, closing her eyes.
Her lips moved in silent prayer as she blessed me.
It was a sweet gesture, but my homemade pepper spray would work better.
Chapter 5
Blaidd
One guard held the door open while the other stepped inside to check the bathroom. A middle-aged man stood at the sink, washing his hands. He glanced up—and froze.
His eyes widened at the sight of both men. Then recognition set in, and his mouth fell open.
Fenrir sniffed the air.
Owen Sidwell, he murmured.
He didn’t bother turning off the tap or drying his hands. I stepped aside as he rushed past us.
The guard reached back to twist the tap shut, and I moved inside.
