Page 71 of The Oath We Give

I try to focus on the click of my heels as I walk, but all I can think about is the fact I’m headed to get my marriage license.

I’m getting fucking married.

I can feel Silas’s gaze piercing through the back of my skull, as if he can feel my panic, peeling away each layer of apprehension with his eyes as dread seeps into my veins. We wind down a long hallway, reaching the elevator only after passing three security checkpoints.

Silas holds the elevator door open for me, and I step inside. Once our button is pressed, my palms sweat a little. I can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off him.

I knew this was going to happen. I agreed to this, but there is a sudden burst of panic surging through me.

What if this doesn’t work? What if Stephen kills someone when he finds out? What if Silas’s family learns the truth, that this is all a hoax?

What if. What if. What. If.

The clanging of metal and grinding of gears fills my ears. A gut-wrenching shriek rips through the air as the elevator suddenly jolts forward. My body shoots forward, my hands instinctively reaching out to grab the railings on either side as the lights flicker for a few seconds before returning to normal.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Silas groans from beside me, pressing the emergency help button. A dial tone fills the confined space.

I can barely hear the conversation between him and the elevator operating company over the thudding in my ears. My throat itches, heat crawling up my spine.

As if I needed another sign, the power goes out completely, submerging us in total darkness. The lady over the speaker assures us that someone will be coming to help soon, but it’s already too late.

Small, dark space.

I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing and calm my racing thoughts. No one talks about how suffocating the darkness is. How it forms tangible hands, wraps them around your throat and squeezes until you forget what the light looked like.

Two years I spent choking on the dark.

“It’s going to be alright—”

“This is a mistake,” I spit out, leaning against the wall behind me. “This is a sign that this entire fucking thing is a mistake.”

A manic laugh spills from my lips as I shake my head.

“We don’t even know each other. We’re strangers, and this is a stupid mistake. We can’t do this—”

“Stop.” His voice bounces off the walls. “Breathe.”

My heart skips as I realize that he moved closer, his minty breath tickling my face. I thought having him so close would only increase my anxiety, but it doesn’t.

I’ve been walking on a tightrope, and he’s become this steady net beneath me. Always there for some reason when my mind spirals and the world moves too fast.

I inhale, filling my nose with the smell of him before releasing it out of my mouth.

“Good girl, Hex,” He praises softly, fingers gently touching my arm. “Ask me.”

“What?” I whisper, taking another deep breath as I open my eyes, even though I can’t see him.

“Whatever you need to know, ask me.” His voice is steady. “Ask me. Let me talk to you. Make me more than a voice.”

Let me talk to you.

That’s how this started, didn’t it? All because I went digging for his number in a pair of shoes. When I was falling apart and his voice helped me pick up the pieces.

Maybe somehow, my brain connected his voice to safety, some type of positive feedback loop. When I hear him, I feel lighter. Not this heavy, damaged person weighed down by pain.

I take my bottom lip between my teeth. How do I tell him I need him to stay a voice? That I can’t want to know him?

How do I say I want to know everything about you more than everything? What you’ll be and where you’ve been. I want to know what it feels like to touch you, really fucking touch you.