Page 150 of Black Castle

St. Michael’s Basilica is a Catholic church.

Vivienne can’t seem to wrap her head around what is going on. This is some sort of nightmare, a joke gone too far.

She glances at Zev, but he has never been a man full of humor.

“What do you think you are doing?” she demands.

“You said you’ll not come with me because you are not my wife,” he says. “Well, I’m about to change that.”

A sound akin to a mournful groan echoes as the large oak door to St. Michael’s Basilica splits open, and a sudden wave of nausea hits Vivienne, sweat pickling under the curve of her collar, a few pebbling on her forehead.

Until they arrived here, and even when he made a stop at an expensive store to purchase their wedding rings, nothing felt real. But staring at the serene vastness of the church, the strong aroma of lit incense hitting her, reality comes like a raging storm, threatening to sweep her off her feet.

She lingers on the threshold, her feet too heavy to take the next step because the next step signifies acceptance, and acceptance means her life and freedom are all over.

“We don’t have all day.” His voice is gruff and unkind as they reach her ears, his cold fingers curling around her wrist, pulling her though gently, inside the church.

As his grip on her hand tightens, so does her chest as the sordid reality cloying around her suffocates, she fears she might pass out and die before she even makes it to the altar.

Scanning the room, all she sees is the centuries-old brick walls, and the flickering candlelight, their glow dull and saddening.

Her gaze travels to the altar ahead and when her eyes fall on the priest, nothing about his somber stillness, tired grey eyes eases her misery. Of course, he wouldn’t care. He is just a messenger of God, nothing but a passive instrument of the covenant and faith.

Shifting her gaze from the priest, she looks around in search of anyone, anything to save her from this. But there is nothing. The crucifix looming over her suddenly seems to be mocking her.

You would think coming to a church is a pathway to redemption, happiness, and freedom, but here she is, in a place she has been taught to seek salvation, about to be shackled down in a sham of matrimony to a man who definitely isn’t the son of God.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible enough for her to hear. “D-don’t do this.”

They are just a few steps away from the altar. But the weight of what is about to unfold settles on her legs like a chain pulling her back, and each step grows heavier and heavier.

“Zev, please.” She forcefully halts, and when he gently turns his head enough for her to catch a fraction of his face, she shakes her head.

His hand on her wrists suddenly drops, and she quickly retracts it to her side, her body trembling. He turns fully, his hands falling inside his pockets.

“Fine,” he says, his voice commanding and dark. “Go.”

Her heart almost soars, and a cry of victory sits at the forefront of her chest. But before she can manufacture a reaction worthy of this, she hears multiple sounds of footsteps from behind, an indication that more audience has walked in.

Slowly, she glances behind her. And the scene causes a shattering of glass around her. Her lips tremble, eyes burning before a tear escapes, the warm liquid trailing down her cheeks.

“S-Kenji,” she stutters as a soldier walks in, gun pressed to her best friend’s temple. And the fear and terror reflecting in his innocent eyes breaks her.

“W-what are you doing?” She turns to him. “What’s going on?”

“If you step out of this room, you’ll never see even my shadow again,” he says. “But of course, that’ll be at the cost of his life.”

“What?” Her voice trembles, horror leaping into her eyes.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” He takes a step closer to her, his fingers grabbing her trembling chin. “This marriage that you detest so much, or the life of your best friend?”

He got her. He got her so good. He has won. He didn’t even have to try too hard. They played a game and he won with a large margin.

Is there even time to bargain or think? Will she be so cruel as to weigh her freedom with Kenji’s life?

When he stretches his hand in front of her to take, bile rises from the pit of her stomach. She clutches tightly onto a fistful of her plaid skirt as if that can harness some magical wind to whisk her away from here.

She wipes the tears on her cheek with the back of her palm before placing the hand on his.

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