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Apart from me, there’s only one other person in the lot; everyone else must be inside, waiting for the opening chords to ‘Here Comes the Bride’. He’s an Order member, too, but like me, he’s not the type who attends weddings for shits and giggles.

Honestly? If it wasn’t for the brand on his palm marking him as one of us, it would be easy to forget that Sebastien Reynolds is even a member. He wants nothing to do with the Order, leaving his family’s legacy in the hands of his older brother, Alexandre.

But he’s not here because of Order business. He’s here for me, because his loyalty is to his friends and not the society that he rebels against at any given moment.

Bas is sitting on his parked bike, boots planted on the asphalt as the sleeves of his leather jacket rest on his handlebars. It’s the end of June, warmer than it has been lately, but he wears the jacket whether it’s winter or summer. At least, this afternoon, the jacket is protecting his skin against the scorching metal.

From a distance, he seems too pretty to pull off his biker schtick. Most of his facial features are delicate, his eyelashes long as fuck, with a pair of cheekbones so sharp, they could cut paper. Closer, you see the battle scars. A divot missing from his right cheek. An inch-long slash over his eye that never healed right. A slight bend to his nose after it was broken twice in the same year.

Bas is pretty, but he’s wise to that fact. Sensitive, too. When we were younger, he would jump into any fight to prove that he was more than his beauty. Nowadays, punching first, asking questions later is another way for him to rebel.

The Owed accept the world as its due. Scrappy Bas is proof that some of us will fight for what we want.

Feeling the weight of the gun on my hip, I’m in agreement. If I want Loni, I have to take her.

And I will.

Bas extends his hand, clasping mine in the same handshake our crew has used since middle school. As I go through the motions, I remember how Desmond used to be one of the five of us.

Do I regret that he has to die now? Not even a little.

Our friendship died the moment he went to Jack and requested Loni as his Offering. Our friendship, and Desmond himself. He was a dead man walking, even if he didn’t know it.

He should’ve, though. Just like that pathetic prick shouldn’t have ever tried to come between Loni and me. Not then, and especially not now.

My obsession with Avalon Dougherty has been the biggest open secret in Harmony Heights for more than a decade. It seems as though the only one who didn’t know how desperate I was for her was Loni herself so I call bullshit on Desmond’s weak explanation that he thought I hated her.

Why? Because I bullied her? Because I made it so that everyone stayed away from her?

I madeheruntouchable. I claimed her as mine before I was old enough to Claim her, and what did Desmond do? He tried to fuckingdateher.

And shelethim.

Rage bubbles up inside of me. I tamp it down like I always do, nodding at Bas as he releases my hand.

The past can fucking stay there. I’ve spent years working toward my future, one plan at a time.

Good thing I’m a master planner.

The most important part of being one is knowing when to pivot. The Hummingbird was booked? Nicholas Reed flaked? It’s fine.

Adrian’s got this.

“Who’s inside?” I ask Bas.

I got him to agree to keep an eye on the church for me while I waited to hear something, anything from Reed. Since that meant he didn’t have to sit inside, a witness to another arranged marriage, Bas wasn’t hard to convince.

He knows exactly who I mean.

“Jack didn’t come. Neither did Stephen.” Stephen, Jack’s second, the man who is tapped to guide Dallas into taking over the Order when Jack finally steps down… so, well,never. “Oliver is here, but that’s it for the old guard. A bunch of seat-fillers. Loni, of course. Her dad. And Desmond… he showed up fifteen minutes ago, the cocky bastard acting like he’s on top of the world.”

Desmond broke the bro code. He knew that I wanted Loni. That I’vealwayswanted Loni. Not only did he make a move on her in high school, but he thinks he can marry her now?

No fucking way.

“Dallas?” I ask.

Bas jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Guarding the door, making sure the bride doesn’t flee.” He scoffs. “Loni really doesn’t want to get married today, but Jack’s given the order. If she doesn’t, Peter Dougherty is done.”