He takes my hand.
I almost yank it away on instinct—every nerve in me screaming—but I force myself to stay still. To breathe. To survive.
His grip is warm. Steady. Unyielding.
And I hate that my body registers it at all.
I lift my chin, meeting his eyes, and for one suspended moment, the entire room fades.
There’s only him.
The ceremony begins.
The room settles into a heavy, suffocating quiet—intimate in the worst way, like the walls themselves are leaning in to listen. The harp softens, fading into something distant, almost unreal.
I barely hear the words.
They wash over me in fragments, broken apart by the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears. Vows. Promises. Binding language meant to sanctify what feels like a theft.
At some point, I meet Konstantin’s eyes again.
The moment is charged, my fear slamming headfirst into something just as intense in him. I feel everything all at once: my father’s disappearance, the unanswered questions, the life I was building before it was ripped from my hands. My freedom. My future. All of it hovering just out of reach.
Konstantin speaks his vows when it’s his turn, his voice low and certain.
There’s no hesitation. No doubt.
It’s as if this ceremony isn’t changing anything—only formalizing a decision he made long before tonight.
Then it’s my turn.
My mouth goes dry. I whisper the words because I don’t trust myself to say them any louder, because saying them at all already feels like a betrayal—to myself, to my father, to the girl I was yesterday morning.
The officiant’s voice cuts through the haze.
“You may kiss the bride.”
My stomach drops.
I brace myself for something brief. Polite. Distant. A technicality to seal the cage around me.
Instead, Konstantin’s fingers lift my chin. The touch is gentle, so gentle it steals the breath from my lungs. And then his mouth lowers to mine. Slow. Controlled. Deliberate.
Shock ripples through me, sharp and disorienting. This isn’t affection. This isn’t ceremony.
It’s possession.
My body freezes, caught between panic and an unwanted, traitorous pull I don’t understand. For a heartbeat too long, theworld tilts—his warmth, his restraint, the quiet dominance in the way he holds me like I am already his.
Then he steps back.
His eyes stay on mine, dark and unreadable, stripping me bare without touching me again.
The moment shatters.
Applause breaks out around us, polite and muted, echoing off the walls of the library as the ceremony concludes. Voices murmur. Chairs shift. Life moves on as if something sacred—or something horrific—hasn’t just taken place.
I stand there, newly married, newly caged, my lips still tingling. This is only the beginning.