Page 142 of Fierce Pursuit

I wasn’t getting out.

I wasn’t getting married.

Pavel tried reaching for me again, but I lashed out, clawing, kicking. My nails scraped his wrist, making him curse in Russian before slamming the door shut.

"Sumasshedshaya zhenshchina," he muttered under his breath.

Crazy?

If he opened that door again, I’d show him crazy.

I took another long pull from the bottle. The alcohol burned its way through me, settling hot in my stomach, blurring the world at the edges. I hadn’t eaten much in days, and it was hitting me fast.

But for one glorious second, I thought I had won.

I thought someone had listened. That they had finally realized this wasn’t going to happen.

I was so wrong.

The locks clicked open.

I lunged to reengage them, but before I could, Kostya was there. “There’s my blushing bride.”

“Fuck you!”

His hand fisted my arm and yanked me out of the car.

I fought like hell, my nails digging into his wrist, my free hand swinging at his face, but he didn’t even flinch. He barely grunted as he turned me, his arm wrapping around my waist, and in one swift, brutal movement, he threw me over his shoulder.

"Put me down, you son of a bitch!" I screamed, kicked, and fought him every step of the way.

My fists pounded against his back, my nails dug into his skin, my heels struck at his ribs, but it was useless.

He didn’t break stride, walking straight into the grand Russian Orthodox cathedral with all the patience of a man carrying something that already belonged to him.

He didn’t slow.

Didn’t waver.

The massive wooden doors swung open, and I was met with a sea of eyes.

Rows of men in dark suits filled the pews, their wives beside them, draped in jewels and couture, the gleaming candlelight reflecting in their eyes as they watched.

Watched.

And not one of them moved to help me.

I hadn’t expected Pavel or Artem to step in. They were Kostya’s brothers.

But the others?

The men who had married for love and their wives sitting beside them?

Surely Yelena, Nadia, or Samara would say something.

Would do something.

But they only watched with blank expressions, their hands folded neatly in their laps as I fought and screamed.

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