Page 6

I was the definition of a damsel in distress, running for her life under the cold and distant stars. I’d discarded my heels and ripped the hem of my wedding dress apart so I could flee with ease. Over the past few minutes, I’d been running nonstop, refusing to slow down or even glance over my shoulders. All I could think of was how to get as far away from this place as possible.

The wind blew across my face, the chill of the night air biting at my skin. My feet hurt as I ran, stepping upon jagged rocks that cut my flesh, but even that wasn’t enough to slow me down. Whatever pain I felt was nothing compared to what I’d have to endure as Daniel’s wife.

On the altar, I’d thought that I could live with him, that sacrificing myself would somehow keep my family safe. But was that the right choice, or was it just a product of my own fears and anxiety? Whatever the case, I’d managed to run away from Daniel, and I was determined to keep it that way.

I knew he was out looking for me and maybe even had his hounds tracing my scent. There was only so far that I could get on my own. I needed help. My knees quaked, my feet were sore, and my breathing was heavy, hard to catch. If I didn’t slow down, there was a 70 percent chance that I might pass out. But if I did slow down, then I’d most definitely get caught.

The streets were deserted tonight, with the flickering street lamps casting long shadows along the sidewalks. I rounded a corner and paused in my tracks, gasping for air as I placed a hand on a wall for support. I panted, my chest heaving rapidly while I struggled to catch my breath. With nervous glances over my shoulders, my eyes scanned the eerily quiet surroundings, my senses on high alert.

Straightening, I threw my hands to my head, combing my fingers through my hair in frustration. My eyes misted, and my heart hammered loudly. There was nowhere else for me to go from here—nowhere at all. Home was the last place that I should be right now; it would be the first place Daniel and his men checked.

What should I do? What now? I wondered, ruffling my hair, my mind reeling with the possible ways this could end for me.

“Fuck!” I groaned out loud, sniffling and wiping the tears streaming down my cheeks.

Images of Liam being beaten up flashed in my head, and the horrible scene wouldn’t stop playing in my mind. The more I tried to dispel it, the more it came at me. The thought of his grunts and painful groans brought fresh tears to my eyes. The way he choked on his own blood, the way his face was battered, disfigured by those powerful blows, shattered my heart. Daniel had almost killed him with his bare hands. That devil beat Liam half to death with his heavy fists in front of everyone. He ruined my wedding day—stole my happiness—and now, if I didn’t get away from him, he’d steal my future, too.

But where would I go from here? Who could I run to for help?

That was when I heard it: the sound of wailing sirens on the other side of the street.

Cops!

Hope surged through my veins, and adrenaline kicked in, pushing me toward the sound. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, and upon rounding a corner, I saw a patrol car parked by the sidewalk, its red and blue lights glowing in the dark.

“Police, police!” I rushed over to the officer standing by the car, about to take a bite from his hamburger. “Please, sir, you have to help me!” I halted in front of him, trying to catch my breath.

He froze, his dinner halfway to his mouth as he stared at me, his eyes darting across my body. I was dressed in a wedding gown with a ripped hem and bare feet—surely, that was enough to shock anyone.

“You have to help me. These men—they’re…they’re…” I stuttered, stumbling on my words, my voice dripping with urgency.

“Okay, ma’am. I’m gonna need you to relax,” he said, his tone calm and reassuring as he set his dinner on top of the vehicle’s roof. “What’s going on? What men are you talking about?”

“They—they kidnapped me, and I…I escaped, and now they’re looking for me—but they can’t find me,” I explained, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a frantic rush. I grasped his collar and stared into his eyes, pleading, “They can’t find me. Please, you have to help me.”

“Alright, ma’am. But first, I’m gonna need you to calm down, okay?” He delicately held my hands, taking them off his collar.

I took nervous glances over my shoulders, my eyes roaming the surroundings for any sign of the Russians. By the time I returned my gaze to the officer, I realized that he was staring, like he was studying me or something.

“You seem a little riled up,” he said, nodding toward the front passenger seat. “Get in. Let’s get to the station and sort this out.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” I rushed over to the other side and got into the vehicle, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.

I never thought a day would come when I’d be so glad to run into a cop, the same way I never imagined that my wedding day would be raided by Russian goons. If today had taught me anything, it was that nothing was black and white, and things could change at any time.

The officer got into the car, started the engine, and drove away while I looked through the rearview mirror to confirm that we weren’t being followed.

“You can relax, ma’am.” He stole a glance in my direction. “You’re in good hands. You’re safe now.”

His words rekindled my dying hope, and I let out a soft sigh of relief.

The drive was short, and soon, we arrived at the station. The officer pulled up by the parking lot, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. We both stepped out of the vehicle, and he led me into the unassuming building, my sharp eyes still roaming the surroundings.

“Come on,” he said, pushing the door open.

I followed him inside, enveloped by the fluorescent lights overhead that cast a sterile glow over the precinct. The scent of stale coffee and worn leather wafted through the air as my gaze swept across the room, taking in the rows of cluttered desks.

“Take a seat,” the officer said, gesturing at a bench to my right-hand side.

I nodded, absently rubbing my sweaty palms over the fabric of my white lace. As the officer moved ahead to greet his colleagues, I sat on the bench, my feet tapping on the floor and my hands cupping my face. Then I felt it: a prickle at the back of my neck. With a discreet motion, I raised my head, only to find that almost all the officers present at the station were staring at me.

My heart stopped for a moment, my gaze shifting across their faces, suspicion flickering in my eyes. Some of the officers leaned toward one another, whispering inaudible words that were most likely about me.

Was it because I was dressed like a runaway bride? My tangled hair, ripped gown, and bare feet were more than enough to draw unwanted attention. Maybe that was why they were staring and murmuring amongst themselves. Right?

I shifted my gaze to the officer who had brought me here, and he seemed engrossed in a hushed conversation with two others. Occasionally, they’d steal a glance in my direction as if to check if I was still there, or if I was listening in on their conversation.

Something wasn’t right. Something was off about these guys and this place—I could feel it in my bones.

The previous officer left the other two and walked back to me with a notepad in his hand.

“Is everything alright? What’s going on?” I asked him, rising to my feet and meeting his gaze.

He halted in front of me and sighed. “Ma’am, there’s been a complaint about a woman in a wedding dress breaking a window in a public restroom just a few clicks from where I found you.” He withdrew his handcuffs. “You’re under arrest, ma’am.”

“Wait, what? No!” I backed away, my lips trembling, my heart sinking into my chest. “This is some sort of mistake. I’m the victim here!” I protested, but he’d already grabbed me by the hands. His grip was firm but gentle.

“Stop resisting, ma’am,” he said, leading me toward a cell.

“No, no, no, no, no…!” The words tumbled out of my mouth in a nervous rush. “This isn’t right. You can’t arrest me! I’m not the bad guy!”

The other officers turned their faces away as I was being dragged to a cell for allegedly breaking a window. He pushed me into the cell and jammed the locks before leaving me to my fate.

I rushed forward, grabbing and noisily shaking the bars. “Let me outta here! Let me out, please, you don’t understand!” I cried, struggling with the bars. “I didn’t do anything, I swear!”

All my shouts and pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears, and now I wondered if breaking a window based on hearsay was enough reason for them to throw me behind bars. They didn’t even stop to listen to me—and why the fuck were they all whispering and staring at me a few minutes ago? Something wasn’t right.

Then I heard them—those slow, menacing footsteps that put the fear of God in me. The closer the footsteps, the colder the shiver that ran down my spine. “Oh, God, no,” I muttered under my breath, withdrawing from the bars.

The approaching footsteps stopped, and there he was, Daniel, standing on the other side with that pesky little smirk on his lips. “Did you honestly think that you could run away from me? I control half of the city. There’s nowhere you can run to that I won’t find you.”

And just like that, the little hope I’d been holding on to vanished into thin air.