His eyes flicker to Vesper. “Oh, Miss Riley, it’s a shame about your father.” He smiles politely as if he didn’t just threaten us. He starts to the door with a calm, arrogant slowness.
Vesper’s eyes practically bug from their sockets. She opens her mouth to speak, but I quiet her with the wave of my hand.
I wrench Vesper from her seat and plod towards the door, desperate to be out of his suffocating grasp. My demons are demanding justice. Can’t be held accountable for my actions if I stay. I’ll rip him to shreds.
The moment we’re out of his office, I pace like a caged animal in the quiet, twilight courtyard. The cold rushes over my skin like a welcoming vice.
Vesper tries to settle me down—“Zain,” she says, reaching her hand out to calm the monster within—but she knows I’m dangerous in this state.
I push her away. I don’t trust myself. “No.”
She doesn’t relent. “I’m here with you, Zain. I need you to calm down so we can talk. Please. The voices will stop if you just let me touch you!” She continues pressing me until I break.
I slam my body into hers and grasp her forearms with a bruising hold. My breath comes in quick succession. Her eyes are soft and welcoming, with not even a hint of fear anymore—something I’m not used to. My mind quiets the moment she leans into me. Her soft, pliable body molds against mine. Never been this intimate. I take. I break. I destroy. Never been worthy of affection. My core shakes, and I’m dying for a fix.
“Are they quiet?” she murmurs against my chest. I nod.
“I need you to stop lying to me, and I need your trust.”
The truth. Nothin’ has ever been simple with us. Each step of the way has been lies, vengeance, death, and destruction. It’s what we are. Whatwe will always be. Volatile and toxic. I break away from her touch. Feels like I’m losing a part of myself, but I refuse to be weak.
“Kieran told you Slade is dangerous. He wanted you for his own. Mortensen will stop at nothing to protect his school and the Void.”
Her body goes rigid and understanding dawns. “So will he use me… Will he—”
I cut her off. “It won’t come to that,” I say simply, assuaging her discontentment.
She searches my face for more answers. Nothing else needs said. Keeping her in the dark is easier. She’s too fuckin’ fragile. Too easily manipulated. Only I can do those things to her. The urge to protect her from this fucked-up shit is strong. Too fuckin’ strong.
“I’ve got a plan. Not sure you’re gonna like it. Not giving you much of a choice though.
You trust me?” I ask, digging for a cigarette in my jeans. Doesn’t matter if she trusts me or not. She’s gonna marry me even if I tie her down and defile her at the altar. If she’s my girl, she can’t be used and passed around. As if I would allow her to get away. The thought coils a smirk on my face. This is the way to keep her in my grasp. She’s mine. Force always prevails.
She’s hesitant but nods slowly. Her nerves are on edge now. Can always tell with her. She’s a shaky mess inside. I flick my lighter open and let the nicotine coat my lungs.
The shakes subside, and I can finally think straight.
“Open your mouth,” I command. Her mouth opens wide. I take a heavy drag before expelling the smoke into her throat. “Close. “She hums and her body noticeably relaxes. “Good. Now let’s head to the church,” I smirk. I have a hold on her, and I ain’tnever lettinggo.
Alarge ethereal, dark stone cathedral stands before me. Spires ascend so high they very well might reach the heavens. Gargoyles and guardians perched high on the rooftops peer down below, mocking me as if they know something I don’t. Vaulted ceilings reach high into the bell tower above. Gorgeous ancient architecture decorates the inside. Zain laces his hand with mine. He’s dressed in a crisp black button-down with matching black slacks. His leather-soled lace-up boots plod across the church floor, echoing through the space. Cigarette smoke clings to his clothes, surrounding me with familiarity. My body trembles with each damning step forward.
He asked me to wear the dress I wore for the performance. I had assumed he was taking me out, hoping for some semblance of normalcy. Only, that isn’t us, is it? My insides are coiled into a tight knot.
We pass row after row of empty pews. The soft chanting of jovial lyrics fill the cavernous space.
He refuses to tell me what we’re doing here, instead asking for my trust. Freely, I offer it to him. He looks back at me with metallic eyes as we trail along the nave. His eyes hold a dangerous secret. The kind that tells me it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. My body pricks with awareness as he strings me along.
“Zain, why are we here?” I ask softly.
At the altar stands a priest dressed in white holy garb. The priest’s eyes carry a hint of regret and sorrow. Realization dawns upon me.No. He’s not.I stop in my tracks, heels sliding across the floor, as he continues dragging me, knowing I’ve uncovered his secret. I want to scream. I want to run. Instead, I silently struggle with him, fighting his vicelike grip on my forearm. He squeezes so tight a red handprint is stamped along my arm.
Tears prick my eyes. “You—”
He cuts me off with a harsh, sharp grit. “You need to trust me.”
Panic sets in, and I claw at his arm. The priest looks the other way, and my heart sinks.
“Stop!” I plead.
