A small part of me wonders if they’d even want me after this, tainted by a man they despise. I wish I’d listened to Ash and fought harder to refuse this fate. But it’s too late.
Marcus grunts, his thrusts erratic, and he pulls out, spilling across my stomach. I feel nothing, no pleasure, just relief that it’s over. He rolls off, panting, and I keep my eyes closed, willing myself to disappear as I fight back tears.
7
BONNIE
PRESENT DAY
The phone screen blurs in my hands.
Dad’s in jail. Someone snitched. You need to get out of there. NOW.
My brain stutters. Dad arrested. Someone betrayed us. This wedding is a trap.
I have to run.
I shove the phone back into my bodice.
Voices echo from the main hall where everyone waits—Savage Legion and Ruthless Devils packed together to witness my surrender. I hear heavy footsteps pound down the hallway toward me. Someone is coming to collect the bride.
I run, my dress catching on my legs and nearly tripping me. The window is old, painted shut from years of neglect. I grab a wooden chair from against the wall and swing it with everything I have.
Glass explodes outward in a shower of glittering shards. I dive through the opening without thinking, my arms up to protect my face. The frame catches my dress and rips, tearingboth the fabric and my skin. I hit the ground outside and roll, losing my shoes somewhere in the grass.
There’s no time to go back for them. I scramble to my feet and run. Concrete burns under my bare soles, then grass, then gravel that cuts like knives. The compound spreads before me—buildings I’ve known my entire life, suddenly a maze I need to escape.
It’s quiet and empty outside. No one stands watch by the garage or near the fence line. Everyone crowds inside for the ceremony, eager to watch the president’s daughter become the sacrificial lamb.
I cut left around the garage and stay low. My dress drags behind me no matter how hard I bunch the fabric in my fists.
Behind me, someone shouts. They found the broken window.
At the back fence near the old storage shed, there’s a gap at the bottom where the chain-link is bent up from years of dogs squeezing through. I used to sneak out that way when I was fifteen, meeting boys Dad would have killed if he knew about.
I run for it. My lungs burn. The dress fights me with every step, catching on my legs and trying to trip me. I round the corner of the storage shed at full speed?—
And slam directly into two people against the wall.
I stumble backward. Pedro has his pants around his ankles, and another guy from the club is pressed between him and the brick wall. Both of them freeze when they see me, eyes wide with shock and something close to terror.
“Jesus Christ, Bonnie—” Pedro starts.
“Get a room,” I gasp and push past them.
“Wait, what’s?—”
But I’m already gone, sprinting for the fence line. Behind me, the shouts multiply. They fan out across the compound to search.
The gap sits exactly where I remember it. I drop to my knees in the dirt and start to crawl through. My dress catches immediately on a bent metal. I yank, and the fabric tears, but not enough.
The opening is smaller than I remember, or I’m bigger now at nineteen than I was at fifteen, or this stupid dress takes up too much space.
I pull harder, but the metal bites into my dress even harder. My back scrapes against the fence as I shove forward inch by inch.
I feel my hips jam—there’s too much fabric bunching around them. Damn this dress. It’s trapping me half in and half out like some kind of sick joke.
I hear voices closing in, boots crunching on the gravel. They might be thirty yards away, maybe less, and I’m stuck. I’m fucking stuck.
