“I don’t want to,” I whisper. “But if what Konstantin is saying is true…then marrying him might be the only thing keeping me alive.”
Her face crumples. “How can you be sure he’s telling the truth?”
I hesitate only a second before answering.
“Because there’s no reason for him to lie,” I say softly. “If he wanted me dead, I’d already be gone.”
Ellie lets out a broken sound and pulls me into her arms again, squeezing me like she can physically hold me here—hold me safe.
“Oh, Ray,” she sobs. “Oh my—no!”
I close my eyes, pressing my face into her shoulder, wishing—desperately—that this were a nightmare I could wake up from.
But it isn’t.
And tonight, I marry my captor.
A few hours later, the lock clicks. The door opens, and Nik stands there, composed as ever. “It’s time.”
My stomach drops.
I nod, because I don’t trust my voice not to break, and follow him out with Ellie glued to my side like she can anchor me to something human.
They take us to a library.
But what should be shelves of old books and cold intellect has been transformed into a ceremonial space—white flowers woven into dark wood, candles casting dim golden light that softens nothing, only disguises it. A harp plays somewhere in the background, slow and haunting, the notes drifting through the room like a funeral song dressed up as romance.
I grip Ellie’s arm as we enter, my legs trembling beneath the simple satin dress. The fabric makes me feel too bare, too visible—innocent in a way that feels cruelly ironic.
At the threshold, guards step forward.
They separate us.
Ellie grabs for me instinctively, eyes wide with panic. “Raelyn—”
“It’s okay,” I whisper quickly, even though it isn’t. “I’m here. I am okay.”
They gently but firmly guide her back, and suddenly I’m alone.
Truly alone.
I walk down the aisle by myself.
I refuse to look at the people seated on either side—men in dark suits, faces sharp, eyes assessing. Beautiful women inluxurious dresses, some smiling at me. Why? They aren’t my people. They don’t matter. The only person here who belongs to me is Ellie, and she’s seated at the back, hands clasped like she’s praying for a miracle she doesn’t believe in anymore.
So I don’t look at anyone else.
I look at him.
Konstantin stands at the end of the aisle, dressed in a tailored black suit that makes him look less like a groom and more like an executioner. He’s still, unreadable, carved from winter itself. Dangerous in a way that doesn’t need to move to be felt.
His gaze locks onto me instantly.
It’s too focused. Too intimate. Too possessive.
This isn’t the look of a man carrying out a strategy.
My heart stumbles as I force myself forward, one step at a time, the harp strings tightening around my nerves. I don’t stop until I reach him, until I step up onto the small platform beside him.