Page 12

12

Thea

T he priest hovered at the front of the drawing room, as close to the fire as he could get without setting his cassock on fire. Frankly, I didn’t blame him. I was freezing too.

As I watched, he pulled a small hip flask from a hidden pocket and took a healthy swallow. Marku and my father had yet to appear; not that I was eager for a fond reunion. No doubt Dad was busy adding more clauses to the wedding contract, making sure he got his money’s worth from selling his daughters.

The staff had long since removed the dust sheets from the furniture and lit the fire, but the air in here felt cold and musty. Not even the flower arrangements placed at intervals lifted the vibe. Or the presence of guests.

Torrance pushed me through the door, his hand gripping my arm so tightly that I had to grit my teeth to avoid making a pained sound. I scanned the room, searching for Verity. Several members of the local mafia families were here, sitting in chairs, looking bored. Most faces I recognized, but some were strangers.

The minute my gaze fell on my sister and Mrs. Gia tucked away at the back of the room, I lurched forward.

“Don’t fucking move,” Torrance hissed in a low voice.

“I need to go to Verity!”

“No, you stay here with me. If you cause a scene, it won’t end well for her or you.”

Mrs. Gia sat pale and shaking, her hand gripping Verity’s shoulder like she was afraid someone would snatch her away. Given the circumstances, her fears were valid.

In the years I’d known Mrs. Gia, she rarely, if ever, looked anything other than immaculate. Her day uniform comprised a crisp white blouse, gray skirt, and sensible shoes, with her hair pinned back in a smooth chignon. She’d always reminded me of a kindly old-fashioned governess.

I’d once asked her why she never wore more casual clothes. Verity loved to fling food and paint around when she was younger, so poor Mrs. Gia was forever cleaning up after her. She’d replied that her training had drummed into her the need for a professional appearance, and even though my father insisted Verity stayed in the attic apartment, Mrs. Gia liked to keep up appearances.

In the time I’d been gone, it was plain a lot had changed.

The Mrs. Gia I remembered was a stout woman. Her appearance now was in stark contrast to the smiling woman I’d said goodbye to a few months ago. She looked like she’d barely eaten a thing for weeks.

Had my father forgotten to send food up to the attic? Verity seemed the same. Physically, at least. I desperately wanted to rush over and hug my sister, but Torrance had hold of my arm so tightly I had no chance of escaping without causing a commotion.

Verity still hadn’t seen me. As I watched, she slumped in her chair, completely out of it; barely conscious.

Like me, she wore a dress, only hers was pink, not white. It somehow made her look younger, even though she was nearly a teenager and growing fast. Her hair was a tangled mess, and when she looked up, her eyes were glazed and unfocused.

“Have you drugged my sister?” I asked Torrance in disgust.

Torrance rolled his eyes and ignored me. Before I could say another word, my father appeared, a broad smile on his face as he strode over.

“Daughter! What a pleasure it is to see you again!” he boomed. A few heads turned around. Eyes widened when they saw me, or rather the dress I wore. I suspected they assumed someone had hired a hooker for a last-minute stag party.

Had my father had a personality transplant? He never normally looked happy to see me.

“Really? Is that why you threw me in the dungeon for a week when I got here?”

The smile slipped and his jaw ticked with anger, showing me the monster hiding just below the surface of his carefully constructed loving father mask.

Dad pushed me back out of the drawing room and into the corridor, away from curious eyes. Then he scanned me from head to toe. “The ladies did a good job,” he announced with satisfaction before turning to Torrance. “Make sure they don’t leave.”

“You’re not letting them go?” Those poor women didn’t deserve to die because of me.

“No. I don’t want news of this wedding spreading beyond our guests.”

“And Father Raphael? Is he taking an expedited trip to the Afterlife, too?”

It was clear from my father’s expression he didn’t appreciate my sarcastic tone.

“Father Raphael is a long-time friend of the family. He knows better than to make waves.”

“And he likes his supply of Bolivian marching powder too much, eh?” I quipped, watching as the priest imbibed more drink from his hip flask. At this rate, he’d pass out before the vows.

A hand shot out and gripped my throat. “A word of advice, dear daughter. It’s very important to me that this ceremony goes off without a hitch. If you make things difficult, I guarantee you won’t like what happens next.”

I received his warning, loud and clear. If I failed to cooperate, he’d make sure something bad happened to Verity. Not that she was safe, even if I did cooperate. The fact he’d sold her off to Marku meant she was far from safe, but at least if she stayed with me, I could try to protect her.

“Is Mrs. Gia coming with us?” I asked, biting back all the nasty retorts I wanted to throw at him.

“No, Mrs. Gia’s contract is about to end.”

Oh no . Rage and sorrow obliterated the last vestiges of good sense remaining.

“You’re a fucking monster!” I spat in his face. A globule of spit landing on his cheek before sliding down. We both froze for a few seconds before he slapped me across the cheek. While I struggled to remain standing at the force of the blow, he pulled a silk pocket square from his blazer and wiped the spit away.

Torrance’s fingers dug into my arm. More bruises. Fantastic. I’d probably look like a Picasso painting soon, all lumps, bumps, and odd colors.

“Take her back in. I’ll be there shortly. I need to have a word with Marku and then we can start the ceremony,” he told Torrance.

Torrance guided me back into the drawing room. I didn’t bother struggling. What was the point? With so many guards around, I stood no chance of escaping.

When I turned back to look at Mrs. Gia, tears blurred my eyes. She watched, her face etched with defeat. “ I’m sorry ,” I mouthed, wanting to say so much more, but paralyzed by what my father would do to Verity if I dared to defy him.

She shook her head and smiled. “It’s OK,” she mouthed. At least, I think she did. I wasn’t great at lip reading.

This was rapidly turning into the most dysfunctional wedding on the planet. Game of Thrones, eat your heart out. All we needed now was a massacre.

As I struggled to remain upright, Torrance leaned in.

“This is your last warning, Thea. Step out of line one more time, and I swear to God, I’ll make you watch while I gut your sister. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” I ground out. When I looked at Mrs. Gia, she’d turned away to comfort Verity. At that moment, I hated my father more than ever. Mrs. Gia had sacrificed 12 years of her life for Verity, given up the chance to have children of her own. Verity loved her. She was the only mother my sister had known.

Memories of our mother were sparse, but I knew she’d loved me. She would have loved Verity, too, had she lived. Mrs. Gia deserved better than this. They both did.

One day, my father would pay. It might not be today, or tomorrow, or even next week, but it would happen. I made a silent promise to myself that both he and Torrance would suffer before they passed over to the next life. Or more accurately, took a trip down into the bowels of Hell, where I felt sure Lucifer himself had a spot waiting for the two of them.

Me too, probably. I’d shed enough blood to forfeit my chances of being allowed through the pearly gates, but I didn’t have time to worry about my immortal soul right now.

The door from the hallway opened and Marku entered the drawing room, accompanied by four hulking guards, all armed with automatic weapons. Good to know there wasn’t much trust between him and my father.

Dad strolled in after him, a smirk in place. He scanned the room, ignoring me. Chatter died down and people shuffled on their chairs, anxious for the ceremony to begin.

“Ah, your loving groom has arrived,” Torrance laughed. “It’s time for us to hand you over to your new husband.” Dad walked over and wrenched me away from Torrance. He tucked my hand through his arm. In a twisted semblance of a father accompanying his beloved daughter down the aisle, we walked toward Father Raphael, who stood swaying by the fire, his bible in hand.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen…”

My eyes met Marku. His oily gaze slid down my body before he licked his lips in appreciation for whatever he saw.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”

Torrance stood behind me while my father gripped my arm. Marku’s men looked like clay soldiers, their faces carefully blank. All four of them appeared more than ready to mow down everyone in this room, which was a testament to how tenuous this little arrangement clearly was.

The guests watching stared with a mix of boredom and curiosity. Were none of them concerned this was obviously not a love match? I assumed not.

It was fucking obvious to me that while Marku had agreed to take me as his bride, along with Verity, he didn’t trust Dad. And who could blame him? My father was as trustworthy as a snake.

“Dear friends, we have come together in the presence of God and of the Church to witness the marriage of Theadora and Konstantin, and to ask God's blessing on them as they begin their married life together.” The priest stumbled over his words. Dad’s grip tightened on my arm as a silent warning before he stepped back to allow Marku to take his place alongside me.

The fire blazed in the grate, but my body felt ice cold like not even the fiery pits of hell could warm my bones right now. In the background, Verity said my name. I heard Mrs. Gia attempt to silence her as the priest droned on, but whatever sedative Torrance had administered was wearing off.

A chair scraped against the parquet flooring as someone moved.

“The Lord has already consecrated you in baptism. Now he calls you to the sacrament of marriage, inviting you to live out your baptismal consecration in a new way as husband and wife.”

The sound of a deep rumble caught my attention. The priest heard it too. My ears picked up a faint bang, almost like a gunshot, and the house shook as if an earthquake had struck.

Vases of flowers fell to the floor, spilling water everywhere. Outside the room, I heard yelling and screaming. A few logs tumbled out of the grate, casting burning embers perilously close to Father Raphael’s cassock. Beyond the windows, smoke poured into the wintry sky as alarms blared.

What the fuck was happening? From my father’s expression, this wasn’t planned.

The guests exchanged worried glances. Most jumped to their feet, anxiously scanning the room, searching for the threat. Guns emerged from holsters and purses.

Dad’s jaw tensed so hard I was concerned for his teeth, but he didn’t move from his spot alongside me. Whatever the disturbance was, he wasn’t about to let it ruin the wedding.

“Should I… should I continue?” The priest’s eyes skittered back and forth. A few guests hurried toward the doors while three guards rushed into the room, making a beeline for Dad. He shook his head at them and they fell back.

Marku looked concerned by the commotion. His bodyguards clutched their weapons tightly. One moved away to talk to my father’s men while the other three edged closer, whispering nervously to each other.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Dad snapped. “Let’s skip to the vows!”

Father Raphael nodded, hands trembling as he clutched his bible like a shield against the evil in this cursed room.

“Theadora and Konstantin, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

“I have,” Konstantin declared in a firm voice, giving my father some side-eye as a distant bang echoed through the room.

Everyone waited for me to speak, but the words stuck in my throat.

“I…”

“Fucking say the words, Thea!” my father hissed.

Verity’s loud wail cut through my paralysis. “Thea!”

Torrance cursed and stormed across the room. When I turned around, Mrs. Gia sat desperately trying to soothe Verity while my sister fought hard to break free of her hold.

“Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.”

“I, Konstantin, take you, Theadora, to be my wife…”

Verity screamed. “THEA! I want Thea!”

My brain tuned out the priest’s voice as he urged me to say my vows. As Torrance reached Verity, I broke free of my father’s grasp and shot across the room, fueled by adrenaline and fury.

The remaining guests scattered like bugs, sensing the ceremony was about to descend into chaos.

Torrance half-turned and smirked. Before I could reach my sister, he pulled a knife out and held it to her neck. Mrs. Gia dropped to the floor and crawled away, sobbing.

Verity saw me coming and screamed louder. She thrashed in panic, but Torrance’s arm around her waist held her firm. He grinned at me as the blade cut into her throat.

Ruby-red blood bloomed against milky skin, trickling down and staining the neck of her pale pink dress. My father yelled something, but I ignored him. My entire focus was on Verity and Torrance.

“I warned you,” he reminded me. “I said if you made things difficult, you wouldn’t like what happened next.”