Page 11 of Velvet Chains
White-hot rage surges through my veins at the mention of Vasiliev’s name. “I’m going to find the leak and put a bullet between their fucking eyes,” I snarl, ripping the needles from my arm with a hiss.
“Fuck, boy! You’re as stubborn as your old man!” Doc shakes his head, exasperated.
A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth, even as the movement pulls at the cut on my lip. “I know,” I reply, thinking of my father’s unwavering resolve. “And I have a wedding to get to. Papa needs that surgery, and I’ll be damned if I let him delay it any longer. The stubborn old man won’t get the help he needs unless I seal the deal.”
Doc throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine, but if you pop those stitches, don’t come crying to me.”
I chuckle, the sound rough and painful. “If I pop these stitches, it’ll be because I’m busy consummating my marriage. And trust me, Doc, there won’t be any crying involved.”
With a wink and a grunt, I push myself to my feet, ignoring the way the room spins, and my body screams in protest. I have a wedding to get to, a wife to claim, and a father to save.
And no fucking bullet is going to stop me.
Chapter 5
Laura
Present time
THE PRIEST clears his throat, drawing our attention back to the ceremony. “Shall we begin?” he asks, his voice thin and reedy.
Relief crashes over me in a dizzying wave.
Thank God. Thank God he’s alive.
“Today, we come together in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in the sacred bonds of marriage,” the priest announces. His voice booms through the church, echoing off the stone walls and high ceilings.
This is it. This is really happening.
The reality of the situation crashes over me like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep me away. I’m about to marry a man I barely know, a man who leads a life so far removed from my own that it might as well be on another planet.
But he’s here. He’s alive. And right now, that’s all that matters.
The priest continues, his words washing over me in a distant hum. “Marriage is a sacred covenant, a promise made before God and man. It is not to be entered into lightly but with great reverence and understanding of the commitment being made.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion. Commitment. The word tastes bitter on my tongue. What kind of commitment can there be in a marriage like this, one born of violence and coercion?
But then again, what choice do I have?
The thought sends a chill down my spine, and I tighten my grip on Victor’s hand. He glances down at me, his good eye searching my face.
“Are you ready?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.
Am I ready? No. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for this.
But I nod anyway, steeling myself for whatever comes next. “I’m ready,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
As the priest continues, I find myself really looking at Victor for the first time since he appeared at my side. Even with his injuries, he’s an imposing figure, tall and broad-shouldered, his tuxedo straining against the muscles of his chest and arms. He holds himself with a coiled strength, like a predator ready to strike at any moment.
My gaze travels over his face, taking in the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw. His hair is slicked back, but a few strands have come loose, falling over his forehead in a way that makes my fingers itch to brush them aside.
He catches me staring and quirks an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I feel a flush creep up my neck, and I quickly look away, trying to focus on the priest’s words.
“Do you, Victor Morozov, take Laura Ann Thompson to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish her, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
Victor’s voice is deep and clear, ringing out through the church. “I do.”
The priest turns to me. “And do you, Laura Anne Thompson, take Victor Morozov to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love, honor, and obey him, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
