Page 105 of Sadistic

Wondering if I've already lost her before we truly began.

Tomorrow, I'll respect her space even though it kills me.

Tonight, I'll plan how to prove I can change.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Revna

The wedding dress hangs on the back of my childhood bedroom door like a beautiful ghost, mocking me every time I look at it.

Greer had it delivered yesterday even though I did protest, insisting it needed to be properly stored before tomorrow's ceremony.

The garment bag is unzipped just enough that I can see the delicate beadwork catching the morning light, each crystal a tiny reminder of what I'm supposed to become in less than twenty-four hours.

Tomorrow. My wedding day.

The day I become Revna Volkolv whether I've forgiven him or not.

It's been six days since I walked out of Doran's penthouse.

Six days of ignored calls, deleted texts, and my mother stress-baking so much the kitchen looks like a flour bomb went off.

The counter is covered in cookies no one's eating, three different kinds of bread, and what appears to be her fourth attempt at a wedding cake.

The sweet smell of vanilla and desperation permeates the entire house.

"You need to talk to him," Dalla says from my doorway, holding two cups of coffee.

She's still in her pajamas—old UNF sweats and a tank top with a coffee stain.

"No, I don't." I accept the coffee gratefully, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. "I need space. Which I specifically asked for."

"Rev, the wedding is tomorrow."

"I'm aware."

"So what's the plan? Show up and pretend everything's fine? Run away at the altar? Give me something to work with here."

I stare into my coffee, wishing I had answers.

The truth is, I don't know what I'm going to do.

Every time I think about forgiving him, I remember how easily he made that decision without me.

How quickly he dismissed my anger with that stupid note about my "sour attitude."

The cupcakes are probably still smeared on the front door—Mom hasn't had the heart to clean them off.

"I keep thinking about what Everly said," I admit quietly. "About how Dylan broke her. How she had to rebuild herself from nothing."

"Doran isn't Dylan."

"No, he's not. He's worse in some ways." I set down my coffee, pull my knees to my chest. "Dylan was obviously a monster. Doran... he makes me feel things. Want things. Then he reminds me I'm just another asset to control."

"You're not just?—"

"Aren't I? He watched me for five years, Dal. Decided I was his before I even knew his name. And now he's making decisions about our life without even pretending my opinion matters."

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