Oliver’s at the wheel, broad shoulders stiff, both hands gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping. Luca takes shotgun, his profile cut sharp against the passing city lights. I’m directly behind Oliver, and Killian’s beside me, sprawled with one ankle over his knee, phone glowing in his hand.
No one says a word.
The silence is thick, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional blare of a horn outside. Oliver’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, narrowing every time they land on me, like I personally offended his ancestors. His jaw works, tight enough I can almost hear his teeth grind.
I sink into the leather seat, watching the city smear past the window, but the weight of their energy presses in, suffocating.
“Oliver,” Luca says suddenly, his tone too casual, like he’s trying to defuse a bomb. “How’s the livestock?”
Oliver doesn’t even blink. The car halts at a red light, and his glare finds me in the mirror again. “No.”
Luca frowns. “No?”
“Don’t try to lighten the mood. She can handle it.” His voice is a growl, low and steady. “Right, Emma?”
I shift, my fingers twisting in the hem of my dress. “Just pretend I’m not here,” I mumble, wishing I could melt into the seat.
“Not hard.” Killian doesn’t even glance up from his phone, his thumbs moving lazily over the screen. “We’ve done that before.”
The words land like a slap. My throat tightens, and I sink lower into the leather, trying to disappear while Luca sits forward in his seat, shoulders taut, silent but seething.
“Alright, let’s cut the hostility,” Luca snaps. “It’s Silas’s wedding, for fuck’s sake. Behave.”
There’s the Luca I know.
No one says a word the rest of the drive. When we finally arrive at the hotel, I’m the first one out of the car. The Walker brothers linger inside for a moment longer.
I can practically hear Luca scolding them before they step out.
When I walk into the grand ballroom where the party awaits, I go straight to my parents and spend time with them until the bride and groom appear. Then we all take our seats at our assigned tables. The whole family sits at the long table—my parents, Luca’s parents, and all the brothers. Luca sits beside me, while his two brothers sit across from us. They speak to each other, and Luca tries to include me in the conversation, but I can't break through the wall the younger Walkers have put up.
“Emma,” Luca calls, “did you know Oliver lives in Dallas?”
“Oh,” I pretend to be surprised, “that’s nice. Do you like it?”
Oliver takes a full sip of wine and downs the entire glass. “Yes.”
“He has a ranch. With animals and gardens.”
Dear God, spare me from this torture.“How… interesting.”
Oliver was never very vocal—more quiet and solitary—but tonight he seems possessed by some demon that’s launching missiles through his eyes.
“I… I’m going to the bathroom,” I say, getting up and hurrying away from the table. I need to breathe.
And that’s exactly what I do. There’s a whole section of the hall with little rooms full of couches, coffee, and books. A place to retreat from the event if you need to. Maybe Silas had it arranged for Lauren and her need for calm during big events, even her own wedding.
I step in as soon as I see it’s empty and close the door behind me. I sink into a black couch and take a deep breath. When I finally start to feel the tension leaving my body?—
I hear the door. I already know who it is.
“Luca, I really don’t want to—” I turn around and stop cold.
It’s not Luca Walker. It’s Thomas Walker.
“Oh.”
“Emma,” Thomas says. He looks terribly similar to Silas—well, the other way around—but I’m only now seeing it in this light.
