Page 123 of In My Heart
Daniel looked out the window as we pulled up before it. It was a small and ancient looking building, obviously the private chapel for the family occupying the big manor house. We weren’t even leaving the estate, which meant escape was becoming more and more unlikely.
Daniel opened the door and stepped out first, then he looked to me.
“Out,” he ordered and I froze.
Everything after that happened too fast. Daniel grabbed the top of my arm and wrenched me from the back of the car. I lost my footing instantly and fell on the cold, wet gravel.
“Cara!” The grunted shout made me look up instantly from where I was sprawled on the ground in the rain. Dante’s eyes were open and he was looking right at me as two men dragged him between them toward the chapel. Even in the state he was in, there was no misreading the murder written all over his face. He was struggling between the men holding him, clearly causing himself agony in his stubborn determination to help me. It was a relief to see that anger in him, because it was a part of him I recognised, and I knew he was still in there, still Dante.My Dante.
“I’m okay!” I called to him as I forced my uncooperative body to rise to my feet. Daniel grabbed my arm again and pulledme alongside him, right after Dante and those fuckers, into the chapel.
“Wait!” I growled when I went over on the right side of my foot painfully, for at least the third time that morning.
I was shocked when Daniel actually slowed a little, but didn’t hesitate to use the moment to lean down and rip off the nightmarish footwear. I threw them violently across the lawn behind us, one after the other, determined no level of threat would persuade me to endure the things again. I was also aware I could fight and run a hell of a lot more easily in my bare feet, and I hadn’t given up yet.
“Try anything in here and he dies.” Daniel’s voice, calm as ever, right near my ear, as though he had read my thoughts.
He didn’t need to scare me with the words. The threat of Dante even being there was enough. I didn’t want to stop trying to escape, but I couldn’t watch them kill him. I couldn’t be the cause of his end.
I looked at Dante. The men holding him were struggling to get him into the chapel. He was still fighting hard, despite his obvious injuries, and how weak I knew he had to be after so much weight loss. His head was turning to see where I was the whole time we moved. I saw the rage on his face, the fire in his eyes. His own demons were right at the surface, pushing him to fight, but his battle to get free was weakening, his struggles more easily being subdued, until he was barely staying conscious.
His eyes met mine and I forced a smile, wanting him to see it and know I was alright. I’d survive. I needed him to stop pushing himself because it was going to get him killed. He stumbled and I thought he’d passed out again when his eyes dropped from mine.
His fight was gone for the moment, as was mine. Sense had to prevail. I had to bide my time and hope beyond hope they would keep the both of us alive long enough for another opportunity for escape to present itself. I wasn’t giving up, but just for that moment I was relenting. Regrouping. I had to be smart.
I took a deep breath and kept walking at Daniel’s insistent guidance. My anxiety was trying to take over and despair was close on its heels, but it had no place right then and I knew it. It wasn’t going to get me anywhere to give into any of my fears and doubts. Standing up straight, I walked with my head high into that dimly lit chapel, determined to hold back my weaknesses, and use my strengths. I had to keep my head, play the game, and stay watchful and ready for the chance to flip the whole fucking board.
CHAPTER 30
CARA
Inside, the chapel smelled like smoke, candle wax, and damp. It was lit with candle sconces on the walls on either side, and dim daylight came in through the small stained glass windows. There were flowers at the altar, like someone had attempted to make this sham feel like a real wedding.
In the small pews that filled the space in two rows, several men in suits were seated. They didn’t blink once as Dante was first dragged past them to the front of the church, and off to the side, then me – basically being frog marched down the aisle by my supposed future husband. I assumed our ‘guests’ were family members, there to ensure everything was done legitimately to ensure Daniel’s claim as head of the family.
I stood at the altar, the white dress stained with Dante’s blood, dirt from the fall outside, and ripped around the bottom from the gravel. My hair was escaping the confines of the hair grips, wild around my face for the most part, and my hands were bruising fast from the hits I’d thrown. My wrist, which I thought might be broken, was throbbing angrily, and I was pretty sure my face was swelling from Daniel’s hit earlier.Some bride I made, I thought to myself with some dark humour. I hoped I was showing Adamian up by presenting myself – his daughter – as shabbily as I was.
Daniel was at my side, his bruising grip now tight around my wrist. He stood strong and silent, his eyes fixed ahead, calm as ever, just waiting for proceedings to begin.
I glanced from him to the priest before us. He was a balding, aged man in black robes with a white collar. He was working hard not to make eye contact with either me, or Daniel, looking down at the bible in his hands. I figured if the bloody body, and clearly coerced bride being dragged in weren’t enough to put him on edge, the armed men, who lined the walls like guards at an execution instead of a wedding, were probably doing the job.
“How’d you coerce a priest into this mockery?” I asked Daniel, leaning into him as I spoke. I refused to allow him to think I had been cowed.
“You came here of your own volition, Cara,” he reminded me.
“Not after you broke the terms I agreed to. Now I’m a prisoner. Nothing about this wedding is of my own volition anymore!” I hissed back.
“Do not make this harder than it needs to be,” he told me quietly, the slight twist of my already badly swollen and throbbing wrist under his grip, the gentle threat.
I laughed once under my breath.
“You have to try harder than that,” I told him with a growl to the words. “Me and pain are intimately acquainted. It’s like an old friend at this point.”
“Don’t challenge me,” he replied evenly. “I’m not a man who loses.”
“You will be.”
“We’ll see.”
