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My breath catches, and I almost pull back, but my father’s voice is in my ear, low and commanding. “This is how it has to be.”
I want to scream, to shout, to askwhy, but my voice is trapped somewhere in my throat.
The minister begins to speak, his words a low, rhythmic drone that barely registers. My mind is a fog, my heart pounding so loudly I can’t think straight. Words like “union” and “honor” float around me, meaningless syllables that hold no weight. My world has narrowed down to the sound of my breathing, the trembling of my hands, the tears that refuse to stop.
“Do you, the groom, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
The man beside me speaks, his voice calm and deliberate. “I do.”
Something about his tone makes my stomach twist, but I don’t have time to dwell on it before the minister turns to me.
“And do you, the bride, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
The words hit me like a punch, and I can’t breathe. My lips part, but no sound comes out.
Then I feel it—a hand on my arm, gripping me tightly. I glance to my side, startled, and through the blur of the veil, I see Svetlana.
Her eyes are wide, filled with something I can only describe as fear. Her perfectly composed mask has slipped, and for the first time, she looks…human.
“Say it,” she whispers, her voice low but trembling.
I stare at her, my heart racing. Why does she look so scared? What does she know that I don’t?
“Lila,” my father’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and commanding.
The minister repeats the question, his tone growing firmer.
“I…” My voice shakes, barely audible. I look back at Svetlana, searching her eyes for answers, but all I find is a silent plea.
“I do,” I whisper, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
The minister’s voice rises, and the room erupts in murmurs of approval, but I can’t hear them. My world has narrowed to the sound of my own breathing, shallow and unsteady, and the growing weight of dread pressing on my chest.
The groom steps closer, and I feel his hand lift the edge of my veil. My breath catches as the fabric is pushed back, and for the first time, I see him.
Mikhail.
My world tilts, and I feel the ground drop away beneath me.
8
MIKHAIL
The church is massive, cold, and unforgiving. High vaulted ceilings loom overhead, adorned with murals of saints and angels that stare down as if they’re judging every breath I take. Light filters through stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors across the stone floor. It’s a beautiful place, sure, but it feels more like a tomb than a sanctuary.
The pews are filled, though the guests are quiet, their chatter muted as they wait for the ceremony to begin. Men like me don’t have weddings—we have negotiations.Deals disguised as vows, alliances sealed with rings. That’s all this is.
Torres stands off to the side, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the room. He leans closer to me, lowering his voice. “The shipment’s been delayed,” he murmurs. “They’re asking for more time. Issue with Andrei.”
Andrei’s name is enough to send a fresh wave of irritation coursing through me, but I push it aside. “I’ll deal with it later,” I say quietly.
Torres hesitates, but a quick shake of my head sends him back to his post. I don’t have time for Andrei right now. Not today.
The low creak of the chapel doors draws my attention, and my heart thrums as I turn to see her.
Lila.
I don’t get nervous. Not in meetings, not in fights, not when I’m staring down the barrel of a gun. But right now, my heart is thrumming in a way that’s unfamiliar and unwelcome.