Page 8 of Through Any Fire (Any x #1)

I take one last look in the vanity mirror.

My face is older, sharper than what I thought it would look like on my wedding day.

Sure, one day I dreamed of marrying Callahan Keane.

Swirled Mrs. Callahan Keane in the margins of my notebooks.

Of finally being able to step out of the shadows and into the light with him.

But then I woke up. And now I was about to marry him, but for none of the reasons I used to think I would. I used to think we’d marry for love.

How foolish of me.

Mason materializes like a ghost in front of me. His face contorts in silent agony, and even though I know he made this decision, it stemmed from a naive and desperate need to prove himself. What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t do everything in my power to save him?

I shake my head, clearing all thoughts of my brother. “I’m ready,” I whisper to my reflection.

As ready as I’ll ever be.

The sun is only a half-hour away from setting, but I’m frozen in my car.

I parked outside Wisteria Pointe ten minutes ago, and since then, I’ve been trying to build up the courage to open the door.

For someone who hates small spaces, this car has always been a comfort.

A place I could go to scream, cry, sleep— anything —and then return inside as if nothing happened.

What happens in the Subaru stays in the Subaru.

“You can do this. It’s just another contract,” I whisper to myself. My fingers tremble as I reach for the door handle. It’s now or never.

With a deep inhale and a sure tug, I open the car door and step onto the street.

Wisteria Pointe is the premiere wedding venue in Roswell, usually booked months, or even years, in advance. I have no clue how Cal could swing this.

The dying light of a winter day bathes the entire building in coral fire.

The crisp air chills me instantly, but I suppress the shiver that tingles down my spine.

String lights cross overhead, illuminating the path toward the main entrance.

There are broad oak trees surrounding the venue, making the space feel even farther removed from Roswell than it already is.

Green shrubbery is trimmed to perfection, and lush ivy spirals around the building’s cream columns.

In the center of the courtyard, a fountain bubbles.

Its gentle trickle is at distinct odds with the pressure coiling in my chest.

The beauty of the brick building doesn’t even register as I march toward it.

I count to ten, inhale deeply, and wrap my fingers around the handle.

The pounding in my chest only accelerates when I pull open the heavy cedar doors.

With a shake and a mental kick in the ass, I straighten my spine and enter the venue, my chin raised tall and haughty.

Pastel orange light floods into the cavernous room that’s filled with white chairs, and my long shadow stretches down an aisle dusted with white rose petals.

As if in perfect sync, the entire room turns in their seats to stare.

The string quartet playing in the corner falters for just a moment, then resumes its ethereal tune.

Hushed whispers break out as I stand stock still, frozen by the sight of my husband-to-be.

Callahan Keane stands on the other side of the room, hands clasped in front of him as he speaks with the officiant.

He wears a midnight tux, tailored to fit his broad shoulders and trim waist. His tousled waves are perfectly messy, and memories flash in my mind of my teenage fingers sliding through those same curls.

Finally, it seems he must notice the change in the room, and he turns toward me. If I were closer, maybe I could see his reaction. From here, with the distance stretched between us, his face remains unreadable .

Someone takes my clutch and hands me a bouquet, which I numbly accept, barely noting the lilac and pink peonies. The quartet changes their song and begins playing the wedding march. To me, it sounds more like a death march.

With calculated steps, I walk down the aisle, eyes locked onto Cal’s. If anything, it keeps me from scanning the rows of chairs—and from the crushing realization that every seat is full, yet no one here is for me.

I raise my chin, refusing to name the feeling it evokes.

As I reach the end of the aisle, Cal’s face momentarily flickers between the boy I fell in love with and the man standing in front of the priest. They’re so similar, and the familiarity calls to me.

It chokes the air from my lungs. Who knew we’d be here, together, after all these years?

I plaster something that might pass as a smile on my face, stepping up onto the raised platform.

There are three bridesmaids I’ve never met before waiting in blush chiffon, and I hand my flowers to the closest one.

Cal’s best friend, Lucas Alvarez, stands as his best man, while his younger brothers, Matthias and Hale, are his other groomsmen.

They’re all dressed in matching tuxedos, but they couldn’t look any more different.

Luc’s carefree attitude shines as his eyes refuse to stay still.

Gray ink peeks out from his collar and sleeves.

When we were teens, he got his first tattoo over his bicep.

Clearly, he’s gone back for more. Unlike in school, he keeps his hair buzzed close to his head.

And despite his relaxed smile, the glimpse of tattoos coupled with his angular jaw and sharp cheekbones, he radiates danger.

Lucas winks when he catches me staring. He’s always been a ladies’ man, even in high school.

Matthias’s scowl is just as I remember and a clear indication of what I’m sure are his true feelings toward this arrangement.

He has tied his long brown hair back at the nape of his neck.

He’s only gotten larger—both in height and muscle mass—since I last saw him.

Save for the fact that getting under his skin is one of my favorite pastimes, I would be shriveling under the weight of his glare.

Hale is as any third son would be—flirting with the bridesmaids at my back.

It surprises me just how grown up he looks.

He looks so similar to Cal as a teenager, with floppy waves and a slightly rounded face, not quite having grown into his features yet.

It’s eerie, and my heart clutches in my chest.

I would’ve thought since Matthias and Hale were here that Murphy would be, too, but the youngest Keane is noticeably absent from the sham of a wedding ceremony.

It’s not like she’s missing much.

“I thought I was going to have to chase you down,” Cal says with a hand pressed against his tuxedo. “Way to run down the clock, Bunny.”

To my left, the officiant speaks, but his words become background noise. The hairs on the back of my neck tingle, and I clear my throat.

“In these heels? Please.”

Cal’s eyes drag over me, from the careless curls in my hair, to the polished maroon manicure on my fingernails, over the curve of my waist, all the way to the shine on my freshly shaved legs. He rubs his jaw, covering his mouth so I can’t see his reaction, but there’s a rigid set to his shoulders.

“You’re right. Though I’d love to see you try.”

My smile slides into a snarl. “You could never catch me.”

Cal smirks. “I think I just did. ”

“Funny how you think extorting me into marrying you means you caught me.”

The officiant clears his throat, and I press my lips together, raising a defiant brow at Cal.

Continuing, the officiant’s words blur together during his speech.

It’s traditional and utterly plain. Where did Cal find him?

And how did he convince him to marry two strangers?

The covenant of marriage and all its promises has never felt more like a farce.

“If that’s what it takes,” Cal whispers, and I’m not sure if I was meant to hear it.

All at once, it’s time to exchange rings, and I wonder what mine will look like. Cal twists to retrieve the ring from Lucas, and my fingers tremble. He gingerly lifts my left hand, and he meets my gaze as he recites his vows.

“I, Callahan Keane, take you, Loren Catrone, to be my wife from this day forward. I vow to protect you and those you love until my death. With this ring, I seal my promise.”

Cal’s words are flat, almost robotic as he vows his…protection. These aren’t the vows of a man in love, but then again, mine won’t be, either.

He slides a ring onto my finger, and my eyes widen.

The oval diamond stretches from my knuckle to the middle joint, nearly dragging my hand to the floor with its weight.

It has a simple gold band that fits me perfectly, and as the last of the dying light shines against the diamond, my throat makes the oddest squeak.

“Loren,” Cal murmurs, shaking me from my stupor. “It’s your turn, Bunny.”

My turn. Because we’re getting married. Right.

I exhale and turn to my apparent maid of honor to retrieve his ring. It’s heavy and gold and perfectly plain. I face Cal once more, and the vows fall from my lips without a second thought.

“I, Loren Catrone, take you, Callahan Keane, to be my husband from this day forward. I promise to be faithfully yours, and…” I trail off, not sure what to promise him in this moment. My stomach clenches tightly. “And I promise to hold you to your word.”

It’s a mix between a promise and a threat, and I grab his hand to slide the ring on, but something stops me. I dreamed of this day for so long, but something sour taints the entire act.

“Any day now, Bunny.”

I fight the scoff that threatens to ruin the mood and place the ring on his finger.

Sound muzzles out as the officiant declares the seal of our marriage, and before I know it, Cal’s lips press against mine.

I’m stunned frozen as his heady cologne washes over me, sending me tumbling back through time.

He’s never changed his scent, and I can’t help but wonder if he did that for me. I doubt it.

A camera flashes, someone immortalizing our first moment as husband and wife.

Cal’s mouth breaks from mine, and he meets my gaze. Where previously blank, a blistering inferno surges behind his brown eyes.

“ Wife ,” he practically growls.

“For now,” I remind him with narrowed eyes, and his jaw clenches.

Cheers and whistles ring out as Cal and I turn to face the crowd.

He shakes our joined hands, leading us back down the aisle.

Along the way, he points at guests and makes short, quippy remarks to a few.

Cal’s radiating charm captivates the room.

While everyone watches him , I allow myself to do the same.

His dimple is out in full force, a blinding smile aimed to bewitch anyone blessed enough to witness it.

Ugh . I roll my eyes and tug him toward the doors, but we’re stopped by an older gentleman in the second to last row.

“Congratulations, young man.” The man winks and nods his head at the doors. “Call me after you’re settled.”

Cal nods. “Thank you for coming, Edwards. I will.”

Matthias steps in front of us. “Cal.” It’s all he says, but there’s a fierce glint to his eyes.

Cal nods in apparent understanding, and leads me outside.

We exit Wisteria Pointe together, whoops and hollers following closely after.

The cedar doors shut behind us, silencing the cheering crowd with surprising efficiency.

But I don’t have a moment to even think as Cal practically drags me toward a blacked-out SUV parked out front. My car is nowhere to be seen.

“What, we’re not staying for cake?”

Cal opens the back door and holds it open, indicating for me to get in. My clutch is on the seat behind the driver, and with a quick peek in the back, I see the bags I had packed. The ones that were in my car. Cal arches a brow and tilts his head as he takes me in from where he stands.

“Where is my car?” I can’t quite control the hiss to my words.

“You no longer have use for it. It’s been returned to your apartment. A driver has been assigned to you. You’ll meet him tomorrow.”

Heat rushes to my face, burning the tips of my ears. So now I had to rely on him or a driver to go where I wanted for the next two years? Ridiculous.

“I thought I was your wife , not your prisoner.”

“We both know it’s a marriage in name only.

You married me for my power. Simple as that.

That show”—he waves a careless hand toward Wisteria Pointe—“was just that. A show .” His smile drops, and he looks off to his left, where Matthias waits.

“So thank you, wife , but I have other, more pressing, matters to attend. Nathaniel will take you home. We’ll speak tomorrow about your brother.

Now, in you go.” He gestures to get in the car, and I grumble as I slide into the back seat.

I have no more fight in me tonight.

“Sweet dreams, wife .”

He shuts the door with finality, leaving me with only my thoughts for company on my wedding night.

I should be happy I don’t have to put on a mask in front of a few hundred of Cal’s closest friends and enemies. I should be happy there’s no awkward lingering or silent car ride.

I should be…but I’m not.

Nathaniel pulls away, driving into the dusky night, and I lean my temple against the cool glass.

What have I gotten myself into?