When I reach the harbor, I step off the sidewalk and slide down the embankment, careful not to slip on the rocks.
Crouching under the pier, I grope through the darkness until my fingers brush against the worn canvas of my backpack.
Relief washes over me.No one stole it.
I haul it up, sling it over my shoulder, and turn back toward the street, where Wolfson stands above me.
The moonlight hits him just right, and for a moment, I’m taken aback.
He’s so fucking beautiful but in every way that feels wrong.Like a broken angel with nowhere left to fall.
His black leather jacket molds to his physique, the edges decorated with metal spikes and chains.More black covers his long, muscular legs.A beanie slouches over his shaggy black hair, framing his features in shadows.His sculpted cheekbones reflect the light like cut glass.
Women in California spend hours contouring and injecting their faces to achieve the perfect, angular look he wears so naturally.
Lucky bastard.
Everything about him is both deliberate and careless.His tattered band tee, half-hidden beneath the leather.The heavy boots that seem built for running or wrecking things.The rings stacked on his fingers like stolen trophies.He radiates a strange, untamed energy that warns of trouble while begging for a closer look.
His vibe is a contradiction.Aloof yet all-consuming.A ghost with a heartbeat.A drifter hardened by life and wearing his ruin like an art form.
“Where to now?”His eyes—too blue, toowolfish—bore into mine.“Back to the airport?”
I push past with no destination other than away from this unsettling man.
“You sat on a plane in that dress?”He falls into step beside me, side-eying my ridiculous appearance.“Wore it all the way from California?That’s commitment, Cinderella.”
Cinderella?
I shoot him a questioning glower.
“There are two types.The one who flees the ball and the one who runs from her wedding.In both versions, she loses her slipper.”He angles down as if trying to see my feet.“We know which Cinderella you are.”
With a huff, I kick at the filthy, shredded skirt and pick up my pace.
I didn’t lose a fucking slipper.But when Gavin confessed his betrayal this morning, I lost my ability to think straight.In a fit of rage, I booked the first flight to Sitka, maxed out my credit card to buy the ticket, and had fifteen minutes to pack a bag and catch the plane.
Maybe I could’ve changed clothes on the way, but fuck me, I savored the thought of confronting Jag in this dress.
Too bad I lost the nerve to paint the white satin in his blood.
But I haven’t given up on my revenge.I’m not leaving this frigid hellhole until Jag pays for what he’s done.
“So you don’t talk to strangers.”Wolfson strolls along at my side.“I respect that.”
“Why are you following me?”I stop walking, cutting him a razored glare.
“You’re the darkest, most vengeful Disney princess I’ve ever met.”An infuriating grin transforms his gorgeous face.
“You meet a lot of Disney princesses?”
“No.I’ve waited my whole life for you.”
I scoff, turn, and keep walking.
“All right, I’ll bite.”He trails behind, his voice all lazy curiosity.“What’s the plan?”
I walk faster, scanning the dark streets, looking for a way to lose him.
