Page 99 of Sins of the Hidden

The sharp pain told me what I didn't want to know—this was real.

All of it.

My gaze snapped back to V, who was still standing there with the breakfast tray in his hands, watching my panic. The room around me started to dissolve, the edges smearing like watercolors bleeding into each other as my mouth dried to sandpaper. "H-How?"

"Last night after you fell asleep." He stalked toward the bed. "You were a beautiful bride."

Something twisted beneath my ribs as I got out of bed, the sudden movement making my surroundings spin. I stumbled, caught myself in the jagged mirror, frozen at my reflection. Raccoon circles of smeared makeup surrounded my eyes. My hair stood out in wild tangles. But worst was what I wore—I'd never seen before. "W-What am I wearing?" The words fractured in my mouth, mind spiraling into panic with horrific possibilities.

He placed the tray down on the bed. His reflection joined mine in the mirror as he stood behind me. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, making me flinch. He ignored it, burying his masked face in the side of my neck, inhaling deeply.

"Did you…dress me?" V stayed in the nook of my neck, his covered lips against my pulse point—feeling it race with fear. Horror bloomed sharply in my chest.

"A husband always takes care of his wife."

My knees felt as if they were about to buckle, carpet turning to water beneath me.

"Why don't I remember anything?" The room bled into watercolor smears, overstimulation prickling my nerves like thousands of tiny needles before I hoarsely whispered, "We're not married."

His left hand trailed down my left arm, fingers skimming my scarred surface like ice, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He intertwined our fingers together before lifting our joined hands,forcing me to look at our reflection—a grotesque parody of a loving couple.

"Yes, we are." The finality in his voice allowed no argument.

My gaze fixed on our reflection, V's arms encircling me like a straitjacket. A white shirt that was supposed to represent purity made me feel contaminated.

V's arms slid away from me, letting me go, the sudden absence of his weight almost making me stagger. The vice on my lungs lifted, but not for long. A scream ripped from my throat, shredding my vocal cords as V whipped me up into his arms, one under my knees and the other supporting my back. I was weightless, helpless as a child—or a corpse.

"E-Even if you claim we're married, it takes more than putting a shackle and a cheap white shirt on me to make us married!" Air trapped painfully in my chest, hysteria clawing its way up from within.

He laid me beside the tray—tea and cinnamon buns from my favorite store before standing at full height—six-foot-four of solid muscle and an unstable obsession. "There were two witnesses and an ordained minister."

The room spun around me, faster and faster. People had helped him do this? Who on earth would think this was okay? What kind of monsters had helped him? My mind was racing, still foggy like it was when I took my sleeping medication. Neurons fired too rapidly, making connections that led to a horrifying conclusion. I gasped, shock widening my stare as I looked at him, the truth crystallizing in my mind.

Oh my God. The tea.

Realization coursed through me. "You drugged me."

His silence was a confession that echoed through the room.

I grabbed the cold band, ready to tear it free, the icy constraint suddenly burning against my flesh like a brand. My muscles tensed, ready to fling the hateful object across the roomwhen V's deadly calm voice sliced through the air: "I wouldn't take that off unless you want me to burn it to your finger."

Each syllable dripped with such cold certainty that my fingers stopped working. Ice bloomed in my limbs, freezing me from the inside out at his terrifying words. V did not give idle threats. I could almost feel the heat piercing my skin, metal threading through flesh, the ring becoming part of me whether I wanted it or not.

"I don't want to be married to you." My voice broke like brittle glass, tears scalding tracks down my cheeks. "Why did you do this?"

He stepped closer, towering over me, his shadow falling across my body like night itself. "Because we're happy together." I blanched at his twisted reality. “Happy couples get married.”

"Does it look like I'm happy?" Air scraped painfully from my lungs. "You don't force someone into mockery vows, V! This can't be legitimate." The words tumbled out, desperate and pleading.

He turned to the dresser, a piece of paper appeared in his hand before handing it to me.

My grip convulsed so violently that I nearly dropped it. It was real, official-looking, embossed, with signatures at the bottom. This wasn't some sick play-acting. He had actually done this.

I didn't recognize the first two names, Zayn Xavier and Tatum Gray. But then I swallowed hard, my throat clicking audibly as I recognized exactly who the third was.

Mitchell Walker.

My body went numb, piece by agonizing piece. The paper trembled from how tight I held onto it, my knuckles bleached white, nails cutting half-moons into my palms. He was here? He was one of the people who allowed this to happen? My best friend’s husband? The betrayal was a knife between my ribs, twisting deeper with each labored breath. My eyes scanned moreof the paper, vision tunneling until they saw the lines on the bottom, the names that made this nightmare legal.

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