Page 21 of Darkest Oblivion
PENELOPE
The priest’s hands shook so violently I thought the book might slip from his grasp. His voice cracked as he forced the words out.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to unite Dmitri Volkov and Penelope Romano in holy matrimony...”
My stomach churned.
Gathered? This wasn’t a gathering—it was a trial, an execution, a performance staged for mafia wolves and their jeweled wives.
The priest’s voice faltered as he turned to Dmitri. “Dmitri, do you take Penelope to be your lawfully wedded wife...?”
Dmitri’s gaze speared through me. His answer came low and guttural, echoing like a predator’s growl.
“I do. Penelope is mine—now and forever.”
The crowd rippled.
His words weren’t vows—they were chains locking around my throat.
Then the priest’s gaze shifted to me.
His face was pale, almost pleading, as though begging me to play along, to survive this.
“Penelope Romano, do you take Dmitri to be your lawfully wedded husband... until death do you part?”
The air thickened. Dmitri’s grip clamped around my hand, his thumb pressing into my pulse until I winced.
My lungs screamed for air, the phantom edge of an asthma attack clawing at me.
Every cell in my body howled No.
But my lips parted, my voice a whisper drowned in ash.
“I... I do.”
The priest exhaled shakily.
From a velvet tray, an attendant presented two platinum rings—bands carved with wolves, snarling guardians of Dmitri’s empire. Symbols not of love, but ownership.
Dmitri plucked my ring with steady fingers, brushing mine with deliberate slowness, his touch searing.
He slid the band onto my trembling hand, the cold weight anchoring me to him. A brand. A shackle.
When it was my turn, I could barely grip the band.
My hands trembled so violently I nearly dropped it, but Dmitri held his hand steady, forcing me to complete the ritual. I slid the ring onto his finger, mechanical, numb.
Then, with a flourish so theatrical it felt mocking, Dmitri dropped to one knee. His eyes locked on mine, burning with obsession and madness, and he brought my hand to his lips.
His kiss lingered, deliberate, a twisted vow written in heat and possession.
My stomach turned, my skin crawling.
The priest swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he forced the words out.
“By the power vested in me... I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
He hesitated, darting a glance at Dmitri, then back to me, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
