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It’s a lot to take in, it is. It proves that Verna is every bit as vile as Ephraim, that Draven has never known love, that he’s giving me power I don’t deserve. I kiss him once, twice, not looking for sex but for a silent promise that I’ll do what I can to keep him safe. “One way or the other, Dray. You and I will make it out of this and it’ll all just be a memory.”

“We will. They can try all they want to come between us, but it won’t work. You could never escape me.”

It’s a threat as much as a promise with him, and I know that. Men like Dray don’t cease to be killers just because they’re in love, and men who have been deprived of love can get a little psychotic when it’s taken away. I’m not blind. I know what I’m getting with him, the good and the bad, and I won’t blink.

I’d rather have a lion at my side than a lamb.

JULY



















Twenty-Four

Nearly seven monthshave elapsed since Draven stole me from my home. Seven months, and somehow it feels like a lifetime. I blame it on the fear I’ve felt nearly every day since arriving here. It’s the kind of thing that makes time drag on, makes it seem like decades instead of days. So seven months, seven lifetimes, it makes little difference.

I’m getting married tomorrow.

The rehearsal dinner was a blur that I wish never happened, but even that will pale in comparison to tomorrow. Ephraim and Verna spared no expense. We’re getting married in the church of a god I don’t believe in — a cathedral, really — with more guests than an awards show and a reception they’ve invited paparazzi to.

He wants the world to know how much power he has, even beyond Saint City. He wants Alex to know he’s still in control, and he wants me to know I’ll never get away with anything.

The joke is on him, though. Even now, Draven is on his way. He promised. He only caught me alone for a second tonight, but it was long enough for him to whisper, “Wait for me?” in my ear.

Yes. Maybe for the last time, I will wait for him.

By the time I hear the door, the sun has long since set and I’m curled up in a ball under my blankets. I don’t want to do this. I’m not sure I want to face him right now either, yet as he climbs in behind me and pulls me close, I feel myself exhale.

It’ll be alright.

“I’m here, little keeper. Let me carry the weight for a while.”

I don’t want anyone to carry the weight. I want to vanish, to disappear from this bed and end up somewhere far across the sea where Ephraim and his goons would never go. I’d be weightless there, other than the growing baby inside me. They’d be safe, I’d be safe, he’d be safe.

“I don’t want to do this,” I admit quietly, like it’s some secret I’ve been keeping close to my chest. Like it’s something no one knows, when in reality, I’ve been a terrible actress. I can’t smile when I’m supposed to, I can’t fake happiness the way I used to fake orgasms. It’s not a secret at all.

“I know,” he whispers. “And I’m sorry for failing you here, Sullivan. I should have found a way out of it for you, and I hope you can forgive me for this one day. But it is temporary, sweetheart. I swear on everything I will find you a way out of this that secures your safety. I hate this. But I will die before I let anything hurt you or our baby.”

And that’s it, really. The reason for my discontent. It’s not about Alex or my responsibilities, it’s about everything I’m giving up or putting on pause because of it.