8. Mila

8

MILA

N o matter how many times I told myself that I could do this, I wished I didn't have to.

I stared at my reflection in the room just past the vestibule of the church, and I tried to will myself to be strong. Gazing directly into my eyes, I fought to keep my lower lip from trembling.

The bridal attendants came and went. They weren't my friends. Some were cousins. Others were just bratva wives and daughters of other men within our organization. Not one of them tried to talk to me, and why would they? I was just a pawn, as were they as they fulfilled their duties in walking down the aisle. This wasn't a ceremony of love but a production, a chance for my father to show off his wealth and attention to detail.

I didn't give a shit about a single flower or strip of ribbon. The décor blurred into the rest of the details of this ornate church, and it was easier that way, to keep it all as a smear of time passing. A passage of my life as a virgin to a used-up wife.

Zoned out into my mind, I tried to lock down on a numb sense of nothingness. But I went too far, disengaging from reality as I stared into the mirror.

"Ready?" Andrey sneered as he stalked closer.

We were alone. My bridal party had left me here, probably asked to leave me with my groom when he knocked on the door. They wouldn't tell him no. No one could.

I shook my head but caught myself. "It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

He hurried closer, snarling. "I don't care about fucking luck ."

I swallowed hard, panicking as he rushed toward me. I knew he'd fill me. He'd take me hard like a cruel punishment. I saw it in his eyes. But I hadn't thought he'd take me now. I'd been telling myself to stay strong for the inevitable rape later tonight.

"No."

"Oh, is that how it's going to be?" He yanked me close as he unzipped his pants. It was déjà vu, a repeat of what he'd tried to do last night. "You think you can tell me no , whore?"

"Please."

"Begging." He scoffed. "That's more like it." As he pulled me closer, almost making me trip over my dress, he turned me and shoved up the many layers of my dress. "You'll beg for me to fuck you. And you'll?—"

Knocks pounded on the door, and whoever stood on the other side didn't wait. My heart beat faster with the promise of rescue, but I knew that couldn't be true. It was nothing more than a delay. A pause. Because I was marrying this asshole. He would get his hands on me before the end of the night.

I sniffled, almost losing the fight with the tears stinging my eyes. Andrey stood up, growling at the interruption. He released my dress with a hard shove, and I heard seams tear with his brutal handling.

"You're expected at the altar."

Geoff. My insides shriveled at his voice. Of all the people who could've come here seeking Andrey, of all the soldiers or guards who might have noticed Andrey letting himself into my room, it had to be him.

"Yeah." Andrey stepped back, striding out of the room. Once his footsteps sounded away, the click of the door shutting followed.

I breathed in deeper, straining to get back to that neutral blank mask I had to rely on. I wouldn't be able to get through this if I didn't force my mind and heart to remain numb.

These few moments alone would be my last. Because as soon as I left this room?—

A footstep sounded on the floor.

Fuck.

Then another.

Geoff. He hadn't left the room when Andrey had.

I spun around, facing him with a stern glower. It was the catalyst he needed to rush at me, his face contorted with that same twisted scowl of lust and impatience Andrey wore.

"No. Geoff, no!"

He caught me, slamming me against the wall harder than Andrey just had.

"Don't. Geoff, no!"

"Fucking Valkov." The sharp hiss of his zipper being undone cut through the air, and I wrestled against him to get free. "He's got no right."

Through the panic, fury rose. Geoff wasn't talking about Andrey trying to rape me before the wedding. He was only mad that I was being taken from him. From home. Ever since I reached puberty, he'd tried to get in my pants, and with a last-ditch effort, he acted on his obsession now.

"A man within the ranks of the Kastava should claim your pussy. Not a motherfucking Valkov."

He was faster, maybe more frantic as he shoved my dress up. More tears rent the air, and I sucked in a sob, replacing it with a growl. " No , Geoff!" Twisting and wriggling, I struggled to break away. As soon as cooler air touched the backs of my thighs, I knew it would be over.

"Stop this!" A woman had rushed into the room, and between my fight to slip out of Geoff's hold and this newcomer pulling him back, she saved me.

Rosamund was there, scowling at Geoff and pushing him further back. "You stop this!"

"Fucking whore!" He slapped her, righting his clothes as he glared at her, then me. "You'll pay for that. I'll fucking make you pay for that."

She ignored him, helping me get my dress right. "I bet you will. Get out! Just go! You want the Valkovs to call war on us for this?" She gestured at me. "Taking her virginity at the wedding? You're insane. Get out!"

Fierce with her words, she got him moving. He cursed and muttered dark promises as he stormed out. Once the door shut, I exhaled the breath I'd been holding after my shouts.

I righted myself, smoothing my gown back down and checking in the mirror that I didn't look as disheveled as I felt. When I felt sure that I appeared the same as I had before those two men barged in, I exhaled a longer, shakier breath and glanced at her.

The makeup hid her bruises well. She looked… normal. Pissed off and ordinary. Gazing at me with an unreadable smirk, she shook her head.

"What?"

"You're…" She huffed a laugh. "Never mind."

"I'm doomed? I'm fucked? Tell me something I don't know."

She curled her lip at me, helping me with my train to get me out of the room. "You're welcome."

"Thanks," I shot back just as bitterly.

"And good luck," she sassed. "You'll need every bit of it you can get later with Andrey."

And would you believe it? My husband doesn't think luck is real.

Mine was running out. So was my time. Sweat beaded on the small of my back with every step I took down the aisle. It wasn't the bridal march playing overhead, but an ominous tune of foreboding as I approached the altar. Over and over, I flirted with the daydream of just running, picking up my dress and sprinting for the exit. I could see it in my mind. Just bolting and giving up on my duty.

One glance at my father, and I scratched that idea from my mind. He narrowed his eyes at me, disdainful as ever, but he seemed to know what I was thinking as he escorted me down the long, carpeted path.

I stemmed the tears burning in my eyes and tried my best to hold my head high. It wasn't easy. The closer I got to Andrey smiling up there next to the short priest, the more I felt like I was walking to my death. I approached a life sentence, and I wouldn't matter ever again. I never had mattered in this world where men ruled, but once I signed my life to that man, I would be a pussy to use. To dismiss.

I reached him at last, and I strained not to show the tremor in my hands as I took my groom's. His flesh was cold to touch, and the simple contact sent a chill running up my spine.

"We are gathered?—"

Gunfire erupted. I gasped, stunned as I instinctively ducked down. The entire congregation reacted. Screams. Shouts. A rising din of too many people asking questions at once.

I crouched on the plush carpet over the steps of the altar, but I nearly fell face first to the surface as Andrey maneuvered me to block him. His icy grip closed on my upper arms. Digging his fingers in, he hauled me to cover his front.

He was…

He was blocking himself with my body! If I weren't so dizzy from not eating, overwhelmed with stress, and so bewildered at the sounds of violence, I would have twisted out of his reach. I wasn't a goddamn sacrifice. Not like this. Fury slid through my mind, chasing away the panic and astonishment at this coward of a man I was to marry.

My hair fell over my face, shrouding my vision. A strong huff of an exhale puffed the curls away, and as I wrenched my head up and tossed the hair aside, I witnessed the commotion.

People scrambled to duck or run. Guests and family ran toward the edges of the huge church, but coming up along the sides of the pews were two Valkovs. I recognized one as the man who'd come into the S.T.L. offices just yesterday. Niko? Something like that. My brain was too scrambled, high on stress and ruled with the instinct to fight or flee.

Up the center aisle that my father had just led me down was another man. Gun in hand, pointed at the ceiling, he fought off Kastava soldiers. He wasn't alone. Flanked by other Valkov guards and men, they hurried down the aisle.

"Stop!"

So many men shouted that order, but pandemonium had filled the entire room. My father screamed demands at Pavel. Pavel and the spineless man behind me shouted at the tall brown-haired man rushing toward us.

"What the fuck are you thinking?" Pavel's question wasn't answered.

Andrey yelled, "Alek! Stop this right now!"

Alek.

My voice faded in the back of my throat and my heart raced faster.

Alek. Aleksei Valkov.

It was him. My eyes weren't playing tricks on me. It was the same tall, sexy brute of a man who'd challenged me at the office. The stranger who'd elicited such a primal awareness through my body. He was here, crashing the wedding I hadn't wanted.

He locked eyes with me, and I swore I saw a moment of surprise with his recognition. He didn't seem to anticipate seeing me here, but he didn't stop. Snarling as he fought back two of my father's men, he strained and faced me again. "Get away from him!"

He was telling me to abandon my groom? At the altar, at our wedding?

I opened and closed my mouth, so shocked that I couldn't comprehend where he'd come from. Much less what he was doing. He wasn't aiming the gun at anyone, but he'd fired it and started all this chaos.

"Andrey, let her go!"

The man clutching me close like a shield didn't consider Alek's order. If anything, he pulled me snugger to his chest as it heaved with hard breaths. "Fuck you," my groom shouted back. Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on my face as he cowered behind me.

"Let her go!" Alek ran toward me, breaking free from the fighting men, and the gunfire rang out louder and faster. Valkovs fired at Kastavas, and vice versa. The fathers were surrounded, blocked by their soldiers, and Alek ran through the thick of the bloodbath.

"Go!" He ordered that single instruction to me. It was all I'd dreamed of doing. Escaping this fate. But not like this. Not in my wildest dreams did I think this enemy would come to… rescue me. I didn't even know if that was his intention. All I could tell was that he didn't want me near Andrey.

He gripped me so tightly, I couldn't wrestle away.

As Alek rushed forward and yanked me out of my fiancé's hands, the gunfire followed. They were shooting at me, not caring for a second to spare me or protect my life.

Andrey ran, giving up and seeking shelter near Pavel, but as I looked up at Alek's hard face, a searing slice cut through me. My arm flared in pain, and Alek swore, glaring down at the blood spilling over my pure-white dress. Crimson splattered and ran from the deep graze in my bicep, and I clapped my hand over the wound, breathing shallowly through my utter panic.

I wasn't used to violence this close. Not when it touched on my body.

"Fuck!" Alex wrapped his arm around me, ducking his head as more gunshots followed us. Not once did he let me falter, and I tried my best to run with him as he pulled me along.

Just before we reached the end of the altar, he twisted back to fire at those closest to us. Shouts merged with shots. Screams mixed into a thunderous roar of my pulse in my ears. With all the utter chaos, I couldn't think, couldn't react fast enough. All I managed was to keep running, one foot in front of the other until my knees buckled. My lungs seized, and with a sinking sense of drowning under a black inkiness, I gave up and let the sleepiness claim me, all the way down until I fell into Alek's hard arms.