He pulls a knife from his pocket, serrated and made to kill.
Above us, Coffin caws, shrill and frantic.
‘She’ll forget you. They always do. This family goes through stooges like you every fucking day.’
Rage floods me.
Eddie’s eyes blaze, blood smeared across his mouth like war paint.
‘I’m going to kill you.’
TWENTY-NINE
MAGGIE
Breaking awayfrom the party takes longer than I imagine. Drunken aunties want to dance, and family friends want the gossip on Roman.
I’m relieved when I finally escape with a bottle of champagne in hand, threading my way through to the restricted area of the house where wedding guests aren’t welcome. Kicking off my heels, I groan as my feet touch the cold floor.
Heaven.
The music from the ballroom thrums in the distance, and it’s like being underwater. Like my ears are full.
‘Roman?’ I call softly, as I near the stairs.
No answer.
I’m met with screeching and grunting. I make it around the corner and see Roman sprawled across the floor, with Eddie on top of him.
Fucking Eddie.
For a split second, my brain refuses to process the full scene. They are both coated in blood, whose I can’t tell. But there is a flash of silver in Eddie’s hand.
Coffin is screaming above us. Not cawing. Full-blown screaming like a banshee.
No no no no no.
I drop the bottle, my ankles soaking as it explodes behind me in a loud crash.
‘Get off him!’ My voice is raw as I throw myself into the fray.
I grab Eddie’s shoulder with both hands and haul as hard as I can. Which isn’t hard enough. He turns on me without hesitation. A flash of motion and pain bursts across my face. My head snaps to the side, and I stagger back.
Warmth slides over my lip with an acrid iron taste.
Blood.
Coffin’s screeching gets louder.
‘Maggie!’ Roman pants. ‘Get help?—’
Eddie stands, levelling a kick into Roman’s stomach, and grins at me. ‘You see? This is what happens when you bring outsiders in.’
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, staring at the red streak that appears. Cold fury uncoils deep in my stomach.I hate him.
‘You’re mine. I’m going to kill this pathetic fucker, and then I’m going to marry you before the weekend’s through.’
‘Over my dead body,’ I spit.
