Page 16 of Beautiful Villain
“I—I don’t know,” he said.“She was here.She was ready.”
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline that never came.
“She wouldn’t do this,” he rushed on.“She knows what this means.”
“So do I,” I said quietly.
That was enough.
My men were already moving.Their phones came out and quiet orders were passed.Doors were blocked.The church shifted in seconds, snapping into control with practiced speed.Shoes turned sharply on the marble floors.Everyone went on high alert.
Someone had taken her.It had to be that.
Mikayla wouldn’t do this.She wouldn’t choose to disappear.She wouldn’t humiliate me like this—not in front of everyone, not on my own wedding day.
Someone locked the main entrance.Another group spread out, checking side rooms, the vestry, the offices—anywhere she might be hiding or being held.Every corner was searched.Every door tested.
Behind us, the church erupted.
Guests shouted over one another.Chairs scraped.A few women started crying, which felt unnecessary given the circumstances.The priest tried to raise his voice, trying to take control of the situation.
It didn’t work.He was trying to command a room full of armed men.My men.
That was probably why the women were crying.
Gregory kept talking.
If it wasn’t bad enough that he’d lost my bride, he just kept going.That was his second mistake.
“She’s probably scared,” he said, wringing his hands.“We can fix this.I’ll talk to her.She’s emotional.She’s an emotional little thing.”
Something clicked into place then.Neat.Brutal.
Mikayla hadn’t been taken.She’d run.
I grabbed Gregory by the collar and dragged him through the side door into the chapel.The noise fell away behind us, swallowed by stone walls and incense thick enough to choke on.Candles flickered.Saints stared down at us, judgmental and useless.
“You sold her to me,” I said, shoving him back against the wall.“You don’t get to talk to me about her emotions.”
“She’s my daughter,” he snapped, finding his spine just long enough to irritate me.
“She was going to be my wife.”
He shook his head hard, sweat beading at his temples.“She wouldn’t run.Someone helped her.Someone took her.”
The back-pedalling did it.
Pick a story and commit, you spineless little bastard.
I stepped back and drew my gun.
Gregory’s eyes went wide.“Archie—wait?—”
I shot him once, point blank.The sound was sharp and final in the small room.His body folded before it hit the floor.
Only silence remained in the room.
I stood there for a moment, breathing through my nose, waiting for the pressure in my chest to ease.It didn’t.
