Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
But Santos’s soldiers stand at attention, ready to drag me inside if I should refuse to walk in. There is no way I am getting out of this.
“What is it? Maddy, what’s wrong?” Odin lifts my veil, brushes my tears with his thumbs.
“I need to talk to you,” I tell him. “I… I can’t do this.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Maddy,” he starts, glancing back at a guard. “I don’t know how to get you out of it.”
“We need to get inside,” a man says, and I recognize him from the night of the charity event. It’s Val.
“Just a minute,” Odin tells him, eyes locked on me. “What happened?”
I look at him, think about all he’s endured because of me—all to keep me safe from our father. If I don’t walk in there, I’ll be dragged in. If I don’t speak the vows willingly, I’ll be forced to say them. Santos has been very clear that when the time comes, he will hurt the one person I love more than life itself if I don’t do as I’m told.
The image of the broad-shouldered man walking out of my uncle’s house casually checking his watch after probably having committed murder tells me to tread carefully. His warning was not empty. He is a violent man. I know that. He would have no qualms about hurting Odin.
I’m starting to shake, although I’m pretty sure it’s not because of the cold.
“What is it?” Odin asks me quietly.
I open my mouth to tell him what happened, but the cathedral door opens and Caius appears. I’m not sure if I’m more afraid or relieved that it’s not Santos.
Caius takes one look at us and stalks down the stairs to take my arm. “Are you walking her in, or am I?” he asks Odin. “You get one shot.”
Odin looks at me, and I turn from Caius to him. I steel myself. If I don’t get my shit together right now, I will lose these precious moments with my brother, and I don’t know if I’ll be allowed more.
I stand straighter, squeezing my eyes shut and forcing back tears. All the while, my mind races. Did Santos kill my uncle? Why?
“Let’s go, Maddy,” Odin says, adjusting the veil back over my face, concern wrinkling his forehead. He hates this for me, but he’s powerless to stop it. I know that.
Caius releases me but remains at my back as Odin takes my arm and walks me up the stairs. I see his limp, slight but permanent. My ankle burns with each step but mine is temporary.
“Wait,” Caius calls out.
We turn to find him reaching into the car to take a bouquet of deepest, darkest purple calla lilies—my favorite, actually, wrapped with thick black ribbon. Santos had arranged for them. He’d sent a note with them to say he guessed I’d like them.
I take them from Caius’s hand, shuddering when his fingers brush mine. I look into his blue eyes and think how deceptively beautiful they are. How duplicitous. I wonder about who sent the muff, who wanted me to see that photo today of all days when I can’t do a damn thing about it.
Not that I could have done a thing if I’d received it a year ago. Two years ago. Nothing.
Caius’s eyes burn into mine. He gives me a wide grin that feels colder than the air out here. Could it be him who sent it? He told me once he was loyal to Santos. Is that still the case? It’s been two years since I last saw Caius Augustine. Things change. Maybe they’ve changed for the brothers.
Odin clears his throat and when I turn to him, his eyes are narrowed on Caius.
I let my brother take me into the church, where as soon as the doors are opened, the organist begins the wedding march. It’s surreal, like it’s not me walking down the aisle as people stand and peer back at me. I know nearly all the faces. I grew up among them. Even Ana is here, but I don’t spare a thought for her. My mind is frantically working, trying to understand who would have sent the photo. Why.
I see Evelyn at her place in the front pew. Caius slips in beside her. My father sits across the aisle. I haven’t seen him in two years, and I notice his right hand is gloved. More violence. A gift from Santos the night he saw what my father had done. Odin had finally told me.
I glance up to Odin, but he’s looking straight ahead. I follow his gaze, too, and there, at the end of the aisle, is Santos Augustine. Santos looks more handsome than ever, but he’s a devil in a suit. A killer.
When he asked me to forgive him before he slit the palm of my hand for our blood oath, it wasn’t because he is good or in any way sorry for what he was about to do. He had conscience enough to know it was wrong, but he chose to carry through with it anyway. That’s worse, isn’t it? To know and to choose?