Page 7 of Bloody Wedding (The Order of the Owed #1)

THREE

RIGHT ON TIME

ADRIAN

H e doesn’t know it yet, but Desmond St. James is going to die.

Not right away. That would be sloppy. And I pride myself on not being sloppy.

Besides, I have every right to take matters into my own hands, and I plan on it. For the Order’s sake, though, I figured I ought to be discreet. Isn’t that what’s expected of the Owed? Hide in the shadows, play puppet master, watch the rest of Harmony Heights dance when we pull their strings.

So I hired an assassin. The Hummingbird came highly recommended, and I reached out to her almost immediately after Dallas let me know that Desmond decided after all this time that he would Claim Loni.

But he can’t. She’s mine, and the fact that he didn’t have the balls to tell me himself only reinforces my belief that he knows that she belongs to me.

So they had a public fling that lasted a couple of months when we were kids.

That prick still took the one thing in this world I wanted more than anything, then he threw it away as if it were meaningless.

And he thinks that he can just swoop back in all these years later, after all the time I spent waiting to be able to go after her at last, and I’m going to let him?

No. The moment Desmond tried to Claim her as his Offering, I started to plot. And when the Hummingbird wasn’t free to take on such a short contract, she passed my details onto another hired killer.

Nicholas Reed—along with his twin—came highly recommended by the Hummingbird.

For half down now, half after I received proof of his death, I could get rid of my rival without ever getting my own hands dirty.

Not that I mind; I don’t. But I’m so used to doing back door deals and consulting in the shadows, making sure the Order’s reputation is untarnished, I moved forward with the hit.

Everything was done on a burner phone. It could only be traced back to me by the details I texted, plus my initials serving as a signature on an informal contract.

Before June 24th, the Reed twins would eliminate Desmond.

Loni wouldn’t be forced to marry him, and considering I’ve tracked her over the years and know that she hasn’t been close to settling down with anyone else since she escaped Harmony Heights, I’d be free to make her mine once I passed my thirtieth birthday.

Until then, Jack still thinks I’ll fall in line. Until then, Loni is in danger of falling prey to the Order’s bylaws. I’d burn down all of Harmony Heights before I see her as one of the Used, and if someone else tries to marry her?

I’ll see them dead, simple as that.

Only it’s less than two weeks away from the scheduled wedding date and I haven’t heard a peep from Nicholas Reed, or anyone in the Order, either, other than Dallas.

If he hadn’t tipped me off, I might not even have known it was happening until it would be too late.

Desmond sure as hell is keeping his trap shut.

Jack knows better than to tell me; my mom is his sister, and I’ve inherited my sense of determination from her side of the family.

I’d stop this wedding if I knew—which is exactly what’s going to happen, hired help or not.

But, hell. Where’s the honor among murderers? The Hummingbird stopped responding to my messages, and she was the one who was in contact with Nicholas Reed, arranging the hit. I haven’t heard anything since, and I don’t like that at all.

I need confirmation. I need to know that Desmond will be out of the picture before he gets anywhere near Loni.

On the plus side, Dallas assured me that my Loni has no intention or desire to marry Desmond, and that she’s basically been barricaded in her family home with her old man until the 24th.

She’s as safe as she can be for the moment, and if I have it my way?

It’ll stay just like that until I can finally make her mine again without having to involve the Order.

I tried once, and I lost her.

This time, I refuse to—no matter what.

Loni thought she could escape me. That because I let her hide for a decade, she was safe from me.

No. She’s always been mine, and I’ll make sure that she… and everyone else in Harmon Heights… knows it.

Huh. I guess my invitation got lost in the mail.

At least, how else can you explain why the parking lot for the Church of St. Catherine is full two weeks later, but I still don’t technically know about today’s affair?

A Tuesday evening wedding… only in Harmony Heights, and only because Father Francis is the Order’s personal priest. As corrupt as anyone in town, there isn’t anything he won’t do for the right amount dropped into the offertory basket.

The sanctity of confession? It doesn’t exist in this church.

Marrying a woman against her will, who is only agreeing because she’s determined to save her father’s life? That does.

And that’s exactly what’s about to happen inside of the church. Or, I should say, is supposed to happen—but, invitation or not, I’m here, and I’m ready to crash this wedding.

In the Order, there is no divorce. Once a marriage is done, the only way out is cashing in on the ‘til death do you part’ clause.

If there’s domestic violence? The Order executes the abuser after a quick inquiry.

Cheating? The Order executes the cheater after a quick inquiry; fucking one of the Used being an obvious exception.

Any marriage-ending offense usually leads to a funeral.

In this case, Loni’s marriage to Desmond will begin with one.

Nicholas Reed is on my shit list. The Hummingbird finally replied to my latest message, informing me that she passed along the details to the Reed twins, then moved on to her next contract. She did offer to come after Desmond when she was done with her most recent kill, but it was too late.

I can’t risk him marrying Loni. If he does, she’ll always be his wife.

Even if I arranged his death after, she’d be his widow.

Blood oath or not, she’d be untouchable.

Unless I gave up everything I’ve worked for my entire life, exiling the both of us from Harmony Heights, hiding out from the Order and its enforcers…

she would never be mine the way she was meant to be.

But because there is a blood oath, I can stop this if I want to.

And, fuck me, do I want to.

There is a Beretta Tomcat sitting on the passenger seat of my car.

A pocket pistol with a .32 caliber six-round magazine, it’s my concealed carry weapon.

Everyone in the upper ranks of the Order has their preferred piece, and this one is mine.

A little larger than my phone, it’s simple to tuck it inside the waistband of my pants so that it’s easily within reach.

Once I’m ready, I get out of my car. I adjust my suit jacket so that it covers the stainless steel barrel of the gun, then stride purposely across the parking lot.

The wedding is scheduled to start at seven. That’s ten minutes from now. I waited until the last possible moment for Reed to come through, and now it’s come to this.

If you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself.

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?