Chapter 21

Anya

M y wedding day is unavoidable. Time doesn’t stop for anyone. The days roll from January into February, bringing with them snow and colder weather. The fifth of February arrives on a freezing but gloriously sunny morning when I, ironically, feel stronger and more rested than I have in the last two months.

I lie awake next to Saverio in his bed, staring at the strip of sunlight that spills through the crack in the curtains. A glance at my phone on the nightstand confirms it’s just after eight. Surprisingly, I slept well. I never wake up so late. Neither does Saverio. Today is an exception. He’s not going for a run or to the gym. He wants to save all his energy for what’s going to happen.

My stomach contracts, and it’s not a Braxton Hicks this time. In seven hours, I’ll be Mrs. De Luca.

Shit .

A nervous flush works its way over my body, heating my skin.

I get up quietly and pad to the window. When I draw the curtain aside, bright sunlight rushes in and blinds me. Blinking, I stare at the white landscape below. We had fresh snow only yesterday.

I give a start when soft lips brush over my shoulder and a strong arm curls around my waist.

The heat of Saverio’s body penetrates my skin through the fleece of my pajamas as he drags me closer and presses his chest against my back. I thought if I wore ugly pj’s to bed, he’d be turned off, but it never worked. Already, his cock grows hard against my spine.

“Sleep well?” he asks with a deep, husky timbre in my ear.

I nod, not trusting my voice to speak.

He closes his other arm around me and holds me in a firm but tender embrace as he drags his jaw over the arch of my neck. “I want you so damn much, but not before the wedding.”

The rough tickle of his stubble makes me shiver. “Are you superstitious or traditional like that?”

“Not even close,” he says, nipping my earlobe. “But the next time I fuck you, you’ll have my surname.” He rests his cheek against mine and stares out over the garden. “Mrs. De Luca.”

I say nothing because what can I say? He’s been exceptionally gentle with me these last few weeks. He treats me like a queen in public. He always puts my needs first at home. I can’t fault him on anything except for forcing me into marriage when he doesn’t love me. Yes, our chemistry is incredible and he gives me pleasure as well as a pair of warm arms after he makes me come so hard that I forget my own name, but that’s lust, and no marriage has ever survived on lust alone. Plus, I can’t forget that the real reason he wants me is for the baby I carry in my womb.

He kisses the shell of my ear. “Go back to bed. I’ll fetch you breakfast.”

My body turns cold when he untangles his arms and steps away from me. I mourn the loss of his heat even as I say in an upbeat voice, “I can get it.”

“No.” The command is stern. “You’re the bride. I’m going to pamper you today.”

And he does exactly that.

After serving a breakfast of French toast with berries and honey and a cup of steaming mint tea, he runs me a bath sprinkled with rose petals. While I soak in the warm water, he massages my shoulders with lavender oil and gives my feet the same treatment. He heats a towel on the warming rack, pats me dry, and rubs body lotion into my skin, paying special attention to my stomach, before wrapping me up in a fluffy robe. Then he makes me sit at the basin with my head tilted back so that he can wash my hair and massage conditioner into my scalp. He twists a smaller towel around my hair and orders me to recline on the daybed in the sun while he makes the bed and tidies the room.

When that’s done, he prepares an early light lunch of sliced cheeses, cold meats, olives, breads, and tomato chutney that he lays out with freshly squeezed orange juice, a jug of lemon-infused water, and an ice bucket with non-alcoholic champagne on the coffee table in the room.

“For you and Tersia and Livy,” he explains. “In case you get hungry. I suggest you eat something even if you don’t feel like it. You’re going to need your strength.”

He leaves the room to return a moment later with a black clothes bag that hangs to the floor. He exchanged the pajama bottoms for sweatpants and a T-shirt .

“Your dress,” he says, carefully laying it out on the bed.

I had three fitting sessions with the dressmaker. Saverio chose the design, but he hasn’t seen me in it.

“I’ll give you girls some space.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll get ready in the guest suite.”

When he turns for the door, I say, “Sav.”

He stops and looks at me.

I want to ask him to reconsider, to give us both a chance at happiness, because his heart will always belong to the woman who broke it, but at the dark cloud that washes over his features as he no doubts guesses the direction of my thoughts, I only say, “Thank you.”

He’s been incredibly sweet and considerate.

His mouth pulls up in one corner. “You’re welcome.”

The doorbell rings.

“That’ll be Livy,” he says, giving me a reassuring smile before walking from the room.

I blow out a painful, shaky breath.

Too bad his consideration is the kind you show someone to make up for hurting them. In this case, he’s soothing me now for the hurt he’s going to inflict later when he pushes a wedding ring over my finger.

Livy walks through the door, saving me from my somber thoughts. She wears leggings with a leopard print and a black, puffy-sleeved pirate shirt that ties with a string in the front.

“Sav put my bag in a spare room. I’ll get ready here so that I can drive with you to the church.” She rushes over, all but bouncing up and down with excitement. “How’s the bride?”

When she takes in my face, she stops. “Anya, what’s wrong?”

I smile. “Nothing. ”

She pulls up a chair and sits down next to me. “I don’t know you since yesterday, my girl.”

I stare at her kind face, wishing I could borrow some of her inexhaustible optimism or better yet, tell her what’s truly bothering me. I haven’t told a soul why Saverio is marrying me. Sometimes, I’m not clear about his motivations myself. To be a father. To always have a convenient alibi at his fingertips. To protect me from Luigi because he needs me alive. To have a warm body to fuck without messy feelings getting in the way. To know he finally owns me in every way possible. To know his power over me is complete.

“What’s wrong, child?” Livy asks again, pulling me from my train of thought.

I consider my answer for a moment, and then, cracking under the unbearable pressure of the lie I’ve been carrying for all these months, I admit, “I’m scared.”

She takes my hand. “Of what?”

“That we’re making a mistake.”

“Oh, Anya.” She brushes a strand of hair from my forehead. “It’s only wedding jitters.”

“What if it’s not?”

She thinks for a beat before her eyes light up as if an answer suddenly came to her. “Ask yourself this. Can you picture your life without Sav in it?”

The question catches me off guard because I can’t. It’s as if he’s embedded under my skin and engraved on my heart. After everything we’ve shared these last few months, I can’t imagine not waking up beside him or not seeing his face when I open my eyes.

“Well?” Livy says.

“No,” I admit.

She lets go of my hand to wave her arms in a flamboyant gesture through the air. “There’s your answer. ”

A knock falls on the door. Tersia opens it before I can reply, carrying a huge bouquet of white lilies and roses in a crystal vase.

“Oh my God,” she shrieks. “There’s the bride.” She kicks the door shut. “I can’t believe you’re getting married.”

I cup my belly. “Being eight months pregnant.”

She puts the flowers on the dresser. “Who cares? You’re going to look gorgeous. Besides, you hooked the big fish, darling. All the single women will be jealous.” She plucks the card from the arrangement and brings it to me. “A florist delivered this just as I arrived. Sav asked me to bring it up.” She makes a puppy face. “He didn’t want to disturb you when you’re getting ready.”

I take the white card with the silver edge, mumbling what I hope sounds like an enthusiastic, “Thank you.”

Saverio’s familiar handwriting runs in deep grooves over the paper.

I’ll make it good.

It’s a solemn oath, a simple promise he makes to take the bitter sting out of the vows we’ll make later.

“That’s so sweet of him,” Tersia gushes as she leans over my shoulder to read the note.

“Is it from Sav?” Livy asks with a swoony expression.

“The one and only,” Tersia says.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, not wanting to talk about my husband-to-be any longer. “Why don’t you grab something to eat while I go put on some clothes?”

“I brought powder with a soft glitter to brush over your shoulders,” Livy says, jumping to her feet. “I’ll go get it from my bag.”

“Oh, look.” Tersia waltzes to the table. “Champagne.” She lifts the bottle from the ice bucket. “Bubbles without the alcohol. My, but that man is considerate. What about the ex-wife? Is she going to be there?” She rolls her eyes. “God, I hope so. I’d love to practice my mean skills.”

Livy snickers. “I’ll team up with you.”

“The two of you are terrible.” I say. “You’re even worse together.”

Tersia bats her eyelashes. “We’re team Anya.”

“So?” Livy says. “ Is she going to be there?”

“Luigi’s whole family will be there.”

“Why?” Tersia asks, making a face.

Livy jabs her in the ribs. “He’s like family. Go on, Anya.”

“Rachele declined. Her new husband has an exhibition today.”

“Is she really not pregnant?” Tersia asks, making big eyes.

“Apparently not,” I say. “I think she just wanted a reaction from Saverio.”

“Well, I’m glad she won’t be there,” Livy says with a lift of her chin. “You don’t need that kind of drama on your wedding day.” She looks at her watch. “Oops. Look at the time. We better get a move on or else you’ll be late.”

Tersia shoos Livy out. “You go get the glitter. I’ll pour the champagne.”

I’m grateful for their company as I get ready. Livy hangs the wedding gown out in the dressing room and removes the silk slippers from their box. Tersia dries my hair and helps me to pin it up while Livy bustles around me with a giant make-up brush and shimmery powder.

I keep my make-up natural and light. While I pull on a white lacy underwear set and sheer silk stockings in the privacy of the dressing room, they help themselves to lunch.

The dress is a simple cut with long sleeves and a scalloped neckline. The soft white fabric that’s overlayed with thick lace hugs my curves and shows off my stomach. The hem doesn’t sweep the floor like the designer suggested. Saverio was too worried I’d trip over the skirt. It ends just below my ankle, the slit on the side allowing me to walk comfortably. A broad silk sash runs beneath my breasts, lifting the waistline and creating room for my belly. The dress fastens with no less than fifty tiny buttons at the back. Saverio took great pleasure in telling me how he was going to unfasten them one by one tonight, unwrapping me like the most exquisite gift. He booked a suite in an upmarket hotel for our wedding night but refused to tell me where, as he didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

I fasten the pearl earrings Saverio gave me onto my ears. It was an early Valentine’s gift. He said it was to authenticate the story of how we met in case anyone ever doubted it. After dabbing perfume behind my ears, I step back to examine my reflection in the mirror.

The dress fits my body like a glove, the skirt hanging softly around my legs in cloudy white. It’s a beautiful dress but not one I would’ve chosen. I probably would’ve gone for something wide and puffy to hide my big stomach, and despite myself, I have to admit that Saverio chose well.

Taking a deep breath, I say, “I’m ready.”

It’s a lie. I’ll never be ready for this, but I just want to get it over with now.

“Oh, Anya,” Tersia says when she walks into the room, tears glistening in her eyes. “You look angelic.”

Livy follows behind her, carrying my bridal bouquet. She nods with approval. “Perfect.”

She hands me the flowers. “I removed the anthers of the lilies so you don’t get pollen on your dress.”

I try to smile. “Thank you, Livy. You always think of everything.”

Livy and Tersia changed into their wedding attire. Tersia opted for a cornflower-blue flowing A-line dress in chiffon and satin. Livy is decked out in a lilac frock with mother-of-pearl sequins embroidered on the hem.

“You both look beautiful,” I say, hugging my friends.

Just then, the baby kicks.

“Ouch.” I laugh as I cup my stomach. “I felt that one.”

“ Tesoro .”

At the sound of his deep, baritone voice, I still. He stands in the door frame dressed in a black suit with a silver tie and waistcoat, the fashionable clothes doing little to hide the muscles of his lean, strong body. He wears no jewelry except for the earring.

I’m glad. I got used to it. I can’t picture him without it. The humble gold hoop somehow completes his distinctive, powerful image.

“Sav,” Tersia cries out. “You’re not supposed to see the bride before she walks down the aisle.”

Livy clasps her hands together. “I think it’s special that he sees her before everyone else.”

Tersia rolls her eyes.

Saverio holds my gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “I’m much too impatient to wait and way too possessive to let another man take charge of my bride while I twiddle my thumbs at the altar. Besides, I don’t trust anyone else to bring her safely to the church.”

“Aww.” Livy slaps his arm. “You’re so protective.”

He just wants to make sure I don’t go anywhere. It won’t look good for him if he has to chase after a runaway bride and carry her over his shoulder down the aisle.

“Can Anya and I please have a moment?” he asks, not looking away from me.

“Oh. Yes, of course,” Tersia says. “Richard is waiting downstairs to drive me to the church. I’ll see you there.” She blows me a kiss. “Break a leg, darling. ”

Livy winks. “I’ll wait in the lounge.”

And then we’re alone.

The air gets stuck in my lungs as Saverio advances, cutting a gaze over me from top to bottom.

“You’re exquisite, Anya.” He stops flush against me. If it weren’t for my big stomach, he would’ve crushed the flowers between us. “Just when I think you can’t look lovelier than you already do, you prove me wrong.”

I swallow away the dryness in my throat. “You look handsome too.”

His smile is soft. Reaching inside his pocket, he takes out a small white box. “I have a wedding gift for you.” He flicks back the lid to reveal two sparkling diamond stud earrings. They must be at least a carat each. “I thought they’d look nice with your gown.”

“Thank you, but?—”

He holds up a finger. “Don’t say it wasn’t necessary.” He takes the flowers and puts them on the vanity. Curling one hand around my nape, he says, “Come here.”

I can’t come any closer than I already am unless I climb into his skin, but he shows me what he wants by pushing a finger under my chin and tilting my face up. He puts the box with the earrings aside and fixes his gaze on my eyes as he gently removes first the one pearl and then the other from my ears.

I let him slip the diamonds through the piercings, unable to look away from that mesmerizing, intense blue stare that burns on my face.

“There,” he says, seeming pleased with himself. He takes back the flowers, hands them to me, and offers me his arm. “Ready, Ms. Brennan?”

In an hour, no one will call me by my own surname again.

I swallow .

When I place my hand in the crook of his elbow, he escorts me to the top of the stairs. There, he lifts me into his arms and carries me down to the foyer.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say.

“No, but I can. Don’t worry. I lift dumbbells that weigh more than you in one hand.”

“Macho much?”

He grins down at me. “Just reassuring you that I won’t drop you.”

Livy meets us at the front door. She’s already donned a hat and a faux fur coat.

He lets me down and wraps my coat around me before taking my hand and leading me outside.

An armored limousine is parked in the driveway. His regular driver, Kevin, is behind the wheel. Livy and I get into the back, facing each other, while Saverio shifts in next to me. Two cars with armed guards go ahead while another two follow.

He keeps a possessive hand on my thigh while taking his phone from his pocket and dialing someone.

Dante’s voice comes over the line. The phone isn’t on speaker, but from where I sit, I can hear what he says.

“I did a security check at the church as well as at the reception hall. Both are clean.”

“Good,” Saverio replies. “We’ll be there in forty minutes. Keep the roads clear.”

I quickly look at Livy, but she’s staring through the window, humming softly. If she picked up anything suspicious about doing a security check before a wedding, she doesn’t say so.

Glancing at Saverio, I ask in a hushed voice, “Do you expect trouble?”

“No.” He turns his face to me. “It’s just a precaution.” His smile is meant to soothe me. “You know our rules when it comes to weddings.”

The blue of his eyes is almost see-through in the sunlight that filters through the window. A black lock of hair falls over his forehead, drawing my attention to the symmetrical perfection of his face—the high cheekbones, straight nose, and square jaw.

My God, but he’s beautiful.

I’ve never seen a more breathtaking vision in my life. His broad chest and flat stomach are like a wall of muscles next to me. There’s barely enough space for his tall, powerful legs. Every part of him screams virility and strength. It’s almost too much to take in, too overwhelming, but I inhale his spicy, musky scent as the image of him burns into my retinas to be locked in my mind forever.

I wish I could say he’s mine, but Saverio never makes the same mistake twice. He’s a soldier and a leader, a man who’s perfected the art of fighting. He’s a strategist who learns from his battles. He only belongs to himself now, and I’m not na?ve enough to mistake his gentleness and care for anything other than the affection an owner shows his pet. The pieces he gives me are nothing but scraps, and I pray that they will be enough. I pray that I won’t fall for him more than I already have. The day I need what he can’t give will be the day that ends me. He has the power to crush my heart and destroy my soul. He can rip the organ beating between my ribs from my chest and leave me bleeding to live a life of eternal pain. If I’m not careful, there will be nothing left when he’s done with me. I fell for him, but I can never allow myself to love him. I have to bury those feelings before they grow into a beautiful but deadly flower that slowly poisons me from the inside. I have to lock my heart behind stone and steel in a fortress where he can never touch it.

Suppressing the urge to brush the hair back from his forehead, I turn away and follow Livy’s example by staring through the window.

My heart trips over a beat when the car pulls to a stop. My belly does that funny backflip again.

God, I hope I’m strong enough to do this.

I hope I’m strong enough to keep him at arm’s length even when he’s my husband.

Especially when he’s my husband.

Kevin opens the door.

Livy gets out.

Saverio is next. He offers me a hand.

I want to hang back, but it’s too late to be a coward. No matter how scared I am, I don’t have a choice but to put my fingers in his and to go into this battle.

The stone church looms in front of us, its bell tower reaching up into the clear sky. A few birds draw black lines in the blue, their chirping loud as they flock toward the snow-capped trees of the churchyard. I count them as they circle us—thirteen—and divide that by the number of trees. I wish I knew how many feathers a bird has. I could’ve multiplied that by thirteen. It would’ve given me a more challenging calculation to help calm my nerves.

Saverio puts my hand on his arm, lending me his strength.

My step falters.

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go into this war because even as I try to be strong, I know my chances of survival are slim. My chance of winning is one in a million. There’s a good possibility that Saverio will slay me and that my heart will end up trampled at his feet.

He gives a gentle tug, forcing me to walk .

I already lose a part of the fight when I lean against him, letting him carry my weight.

Livy goes ahead. She opens the doors. Music spills out from the church, the soft notes of an organ escaping into the air and drifting to the clouds where they pop like balloons.

We stop on the threshold. Livy takes my coat.

The church is packed. People turn on the benches and twist their necks to stare at us. Luigi and Giorgio sit in the front pew on the left. The men behind them wear dark suits. I recognize them from the club. Everyone who works for Luigi are present plus a lot of people I don’t know. Tersia and Richard are on their own in the back. Livy scurries inside to find a place next to them when the organ music dies off-key.

A few people cough. Some clear their throats. A rustling of clothes sounds as they shift on their hard seats while a priest exits the vestry and walks to the altar.

Saverio pulls me tighter against him and smiles down at me. “Okay?”

“Where’s Raphael?”

“He sent a message to say they couldn’t make it. Elena is pregnant.”

“Oh.” I shift my weight. “That’s good news. How far is she?”

“Three months. They haven’t announced it yet. She’s been very sick. The first few weeks have been rough on her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Come to think of it, she never did return my wrap. I won’t be surprised if she burned it. Saverio and I behaved disrespectfully at her wedding. I wonder if she’s disappointed that she can’t be here to take revenge. Maybe she would’ve enjoyed sabotaging a part of the ceremony .

The priest looks up at the gallery and nods. The wedding march starts to play.

“That’s our cue,” Saverio says, sounding proud and victorious.

I square my shoulders and lift my chin. When Saverio leads me inside, all eyes turn to my stomach. Everyone knows this baby isn’t his. Everyone here knows this is his shot at having a child. They all know why he’s marrying me. I try to ignore their whispers and stares as I walk down the aisle between cascades of roses and lilies, their sweet perfume mixing with the scent of the candles that burn in the alcoves.

The music stops when we reach the priest. Saverio turns to face me. The priest says something, but I can only focus on Saverio’s face. It’s my solace as well as my torment. I keep my spine straight even though I don’t hear a word. I refuse to show these people my turmoil. I won’t allow them to gloat at my weakness.

Saverio says, “I do.”

He takes both my hands and squeezes my fingers.

My signal.

My voice is clear, but my mind is fuzzy. “I do.”

Dante steps forward. He gives Saverio a ring, a simple white gold band that he pushes over my finger to fit against my engagement ring. Then Dante gives me another ring, a similar but broader one. I do the same, wiggling it over Saverio’s finger.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The words are distorted. They reach me through a ringing in my ears.

Saverio cups my face and pulls me closer. He lowers his head, watching me with unspoken promises and frightening intentions burning in his eyes as his soft, warm, minty exhale feathers over my mouth. I hold my breath, my heart stuttering in my chest, but before he closes the last hairbreadth of distance and touches his lips to mine, a boom resonates through the space.

I give a start.

Saverio freezes.

Light spills into the somber interior, fanning out to every corner and cutting wedges over the walls. A rush of crispy, cold air barrels down the aisle.

My body breaks out in goosebumps. I notice everything—how quickly that frosty bite dispels the comfortable temperature, the way the sunbeams light up the stained-glass windows in reds and greens, the smell of the wintry afternoon tainted with burnt meat from the food cart across the road, and the crooked line of smoke from the incense on the altar as the thin ribbon bends toward the breeze.

A murmur rises from the pews.

Saverio jerks his face toward the doors.

Someone opened them.

Confusion rides on the disoriented quiet that follows as the priest goes still and everyone turns in their seats.

I blink my eyes to adjust to the too-bright, too-sudden light.

A man stands in the open doors. His silhouette is black against the pure white snow outside. The shape is stocky and squarish, the neckless head attached straight to the shoulders.

For a moment, I think he’s not human, that he’s a ghost from our past, a man knifed down in an alley who came to contest our union from the grave. But then another three dark figures appear behind him, and the illusion dissipates. I notice the outlines of the automatic firearms in their hands at the same time Dante shouts, “Get down. ”

Dante’s warning is not yet cold when Saverio grasps my shoulders and spins me toward the altar, placing his body like a shield between me and the danger.

A scream catches in my throat as gunshots tear through the space. The air is squeezed from my lungs when Saverio wraps his arms in a death grip around me. He hunches over, covering my length while pulling me into the protection of his chest.

More shots ring out.

Saverio’s body jerks against mine as if he’s caught in a hailstorm.

A wave of panic rolls through me. “Sav!”

He grunts as another round of shots goes off, each explosion an onslaught that rips into his back and shakes him violently. I feel every one of those bullets that eats into his flesh. The force of the blows tears him apart, again and again, but not once does he loosen his arms around me.

“Sav!”

I cling to him.

This can’t be happening.

It’s just a nightmare.

Please, wake up.

Gunpowder fumes and weeping hang in the air while the candles burn tranquilly, their flames winking from the shadows. The soft flickering of the golden light adds to the illusion that we’re only trapped in a bad dream. Yet the trickle of blood that runs down Saverio’s neck and splashes in red blotches on my white dress is real.

Survival instinct kicks in. My brain shuts down. I don’t think about the bullets or the grunts of the men going down around us. I don’t think about how badly Saverio is wounded. That’s for later. All I focus on is getting him away from here. Getting him help .

“Get out, Sav!” I slam my fists on his chest. “Move! Now!”

A flower arrangement explodes next to us, petals and stems flying everywhere before raining down on the carpet runner.

I reach for Saverio’s hands that are locked behind my waist, needing to pull him to the side door, but he only tightens his steel grip, caging me in between his arms and the solid wall of his battered body.

“Grenade,” someone yells.

I stop trying to break his iron hold and look over his shoulder. A black, elongated shape rolls down the aisle.

Dear God.

Dante is right there. He kicks the grenade toward an alcove before diving behind the communion table.

We go down to the floor, my stomach bottoming out as the earth gives way under my feet. Somehow, Saverio manages to catch my body and cushion my head with his big hands to soften the fall. He lies over me, holding his weight on his arms, and stares at my face as if it’s the last time he’ll see it.

An explosion rocks the side of the church.

Saverio grunts.

“Sav,” I sob, hysteria taking over.

He frames my face between his palms and forces me to look at him, smiling through the pain that’s etched on his beautiful features. “Listen to me, tesoro .”

I hold him to me and fist my hands in his jacket at his back. My fingers brush over torn fabric and sticky wetness.

Fighting him again, I say, “No!” We have to get out of here.

“Anya, listen.”

His soft tone makes me pause. I blink to clear the tears that blur my vision .

He brushes them away with his thumbs. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

“No!” I cry through the sobs racking my chest.

“You’re going to see your son grow up into a man you’ll be proud of.”

“Saverio, please!”

“You’re going to find a man, a good man, and you’re going to have plenty more babies.”

“Stop,” I beg. “Please, stop.”

He wipes strands of hair from my forehead with a tender caress. “You’re going to get old and have a full and happy life.”

I place a palm on his cheek, willing him to be quiet.

“Remember what I told you about the money and the key in the safe.”

“You will not sacrifice yourself, do you hear me?” I push with renewed vigor on his chest. “Get up. Get up, damn you!”

The shots go quiet. Maybe we’re lucky. Maybe they left.

“Take cover!” someone shouts. “Grenade!”

Too late.

The unspoken knowledge passes between us as the seconds tick, tick, tick.

One..

But our relationship has always been a bomb waiting to explode, hasn’t it?

Two…

And even as we counted down the hours to our destruction, the devastation felt so sweet.

Three…

His eyes burn both brighter and paler, the color like the clear blue sky with the dying notes and the little black birds that become dots in the distance. I hold on to those anchors, to him, refusing to blink or to close my eyes. Those eyes…they’re the color of heaven and tears. They’re the last thing I see before a blast deafens my ears and my body is sucked into a vortex of flames. The most excruciating pain rips through my lower body, darkening my vision at the same time as agonizing heat melts everything and a white-orange blaze turns our story into ashes.

TO BE CONTINUED