Page 11 of Burn it Down

Since the dinner at The Mill, I’ve only had one opportunity to escape, and I took it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t expecting it to be a setup from Lucas and to be dragged right back to the farmhouse I’ve lived in the last few years. Now I’m standing under the harsh overhead lights of Belinda’s Bridal Boutique, half-zipped into a dress that feels like it’s going to rot my skin off. In this lighting, I don’t look like the exuberant bride I should be a few days before my wedding. In fact, it only highlights the splotchy makeup my mother smeared on me to hide the bruises Lucas and my father left on my arms and neck for trying to escape. I assume my mother, in all her infinite wisdom, decided it was best to cover them up so Matthew isn’t displeased that he didn’t get to ruin me first.

The fabric clings to me like it knows I don’t belong in it. The satin is too smooth. The bodice is too tight. The train is too long.

My reflection in the mirror doesn’t look like me. The girl there looks like a ghost. Same short blonde hair and big brown eyes. Pretty, I suppose, but vacant and dressed for sacrifice.

I press my palms to my stomach, trying to keep from unraveling. I told myself I’d just try it on while I waited for my next chance to escape. I’m here with my mother, but that doesn’tmean my father doesn’t have someone standing guard if I try to climb out a bathroom window. The second the zipper slid up my back, something inside me cracked.

I hate this. I fucking hate this and everyone involved.

The shop is quiet. My mother is in the back room where all the dresses are kept talking to Belinda, the owner of this place. She’s known as Castlebrook’s most aggressive matchmaker. Belinda does all the weddings in Castlebrook. If you’re getting married in this town, you go through her. It’s not tradition, it’s a power play. She knows what this is, and she’s fine with it as long as she gets paid to facilitate the wedding and reception.

And I’m standing here, half-swallowed by a dress I never wanted, preparing to become a bargaining chip in my father's latest deal. Belinda is full of bullshit. She knows it and she knows everyone else knows it, but that doesn’t stop her from spewing it everywhere. She told me I should feel so lucky to have a fiancé like Matthew. I wanted to claw her eyes out, but I just don’t have the strength to waste on someone like her now.

I don’t want someone who would take a bride as a brokered deal in order to merge two families.

I want someone who looks at me like I’m the only oxygen in the room.

Like Riven used to.

Just as I think his name I get chills all over my body as if he’s in the room with me.

The bell above the front door doesn’t ring. There’s no announcement that anyone has entered the building.

Just a shift in the air. That feeling you get right before lightning strikes.

And then he’s there.

Riven Kozlov is looking at me like I’m the only woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. His reflection appears behind mine in the mirror and my breath catches in my throat.

He’s bigger. Broader. His hair is longer now, curling a little at the edges under his black baseball cap. There’s stubble along his jaw and wildness in his gray eyes that wasn’t there before. Maybe it always was, and I just refused to see it.

He’s beautiful. Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

And he’s staring at me like he sees the ghost I’ve become.

His jaw tics. His fists clench at his sides.

His eyes drop to the dress I’m wearing. I’m not stupid, he knows this isn’t my choice. Riven has had eyes, specifically his bestie Caiden Grey’s eyes, on me this whole time. He knows what our father is trying to do, yet he looks like he’s been kicked in the gut.

Something flickers across his face. Rage, then betrayal. “Take it off,” he growls.

The words don’t land like a request. They land like a warning. The message is clear. If I don’t, he will.

My body stiffens. “You left me here with them and that’s all you have to say to me?”

He takes a step forward, voice low when he enunciates, “Take. It. Off.”

I blink, heart pounding. “No.”

“Lakynn, I’m not in control right now.” His nostrils flare. “Take that fucking thing off or I’ll take it off for you.” To anyone else, his voice would sound calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that comes before a hurricane. To me though? He’s in a full on crashout.

“Riven—”

He’s already moving, stalking across the boutique like he owns it. Like nothing and no one could stop him if they tried.

His gaze is locked on the dress, the ring on my finger. He hasn’t noticed the bruises. When he does? I don’t think I want to be here for the fallout.

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