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But maybe I can escape.

“No,” I say firmly.

Griffin leans into the car. “I have been patient with you, Ava. I’ve tried to make this as easy as possible while keeping you safe, but all you do is question me and play games.” He yanks me toward him with such force that my ass slides out of the seat. Next, I’m wobbling to stay steady on the curb. “When I tell you to do something you will listen to me. Now get into that building.”

“Griffin, stop. We can’t do this.” I kick him. “I changed my mind. We’ll do the big wedding.”

“And it will be a great party. But deep inside you’ll know you got married like this, looking...well. Looking like shit.”

“That’s cruel!” I pressed a button I didn’t know would fucking launch a nuclear war.

“Cruel?” He drags me out of the car and flips me around to walk ahead of him, the gun in my back. “I bought you a beautiful dress but you hate it. Now you get married like this. This is the memory that will be stuck in your head.”

“No, it won’t!” My heart pounds at the psycho mindfuck he just laid on me. And I’m kind of pissed because it’s a brilliant punishment I know I deserve.

“Wanna bet? You act all tough, but deep inside you’re all woman.” His raspy voice speaks to how unhinged he is. “This is going to piss you off. Forever. What did you say to me the day I found you in bloody rags:I would never want to get married like this.”

“You...” I bite my lip, hating him.

Zeke waves from the entrance. I have no doubt Griffin has the power to keep this marriage license office open. Either way, I’m leaving here married.

Passing women in pretty white sundresses, holding bouquets, their hair in beautiful twists or curls cascading down their back, what I did is hitting me.

We get inside, and Zeke is there. “Judge Carey is waiting for you, boss.”

“Thank you, Zeke.”

I eye courthouse guards with guns and know all I have to do is cry out. Say I’m being coerced. Griffin catches my eyes lingering that way. He pulls me closer and next, I feel something hard and steel in my ass crack.

“Is that...”

“Smith and Wesson, baby. Not Quinlan issued.”

I nearly snort a laugh that he can make a joke when we’re seething at each other. “That hurts.”

“My cock will hurt more when I take you there.”

“Just what a girl wants to hear on her wedding day.”

“Keep walking, siren,” Griffin says with his warm breath in my ear.

A carved wooden door gets larger every second. Next, we’re in a room, and a man in a black robe is reading marriage vows. Griffin is holding me by the waist, the nuzzle of his gun rimming my backside.

At the part where we say I do, I want to throw up.

“I do,” Griffin says and digs the gun harder.

“I...”I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.“I do.”

We’re pronounced husband and wife. Then the judge excuses himself, saying he has a wedding to get to in East Hampton.

We’re alone, and Griffin puts his gun away. “Kiss me, wife.”

“Fuck you,” I mumble so the clerk can’t hear us. “The next time I have your dick in my mouth I’ll bite it off.”

“What language for a Navy lieutenant.” He grips my face trying to kiss me.

“Good luck, you two,” the clerk startles us. “Judge Carey signed the marriage license.” She leaves it on the bench and hikes away.