Page 126 of The Darkness is Calling

“Especially since the last time we saw each other, we were together at a funeral,” he adds, reminding me of the day we buried Papa.

“And now we’re seeing each other at a wedding,” I say without enthusiasm. “Yippy.”

“It feels about the same,” Oksana mutters in Russian, plucking a petal from one of the flowers in her bouquet.

My friend’s subtlety doesn’t escape my brother, who understands her words perfectly and looks at me skeptically. “Do you have something to tell me, mladshaya sestra16?”

“Net17.” My voice is flat, already resigned to my fate, which is too late and impossible to change. “Let’s go.”

Jane seems to breathe in relief and immediately announces into her earpiece that we are moving. I hear her quietly giving a few orders, which makes my heart pound even harder, anticipating what comes next.

To sentence myself to a loveless life.

Still, I hope to find beside Oliver that comfort from the beginning, or at least a routine that will bring me peace.

I cling to my brother’s arm like a lifeline as we head toward the hall that leads to the aisle and the altar beyond.

Oksana comes closer to me and, no matter what the others say, wraps one arm around me.

“Last chance, Matryoshka18,” my friend whispers.

16 младшая сестра (ru.) – little sister

17Нет (ru.) - no

18Traditional russian doll

“Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t,” I whisper back. “Don’t you see how many there are?”

“Ten seconds. Maid of honor, go!” Jane urges, anxious for everything to be perfect.

Only now, when she straightens and looks around, does Oksana notice the men dressed in suits similar to the two who were named my new bodyguards today. At first glance, I realize there are at least ten of them only in the area where we are standing now, all new faces I have never seen before.

Something tells me strange things are happening here, but my brother’s presence offers me a small measure of comfort.

Among them all, I recognize some Slavic features of men hiding their weapons rather well. They are here to guard important people from Bratva, or perhaps they were brought by the man beside me, who is staring ahead with seriousness and attention.

This wedding is a dynamite, ready to explode at the first wrong move.

In the center of all of it, is me, the one who wants to run from everyone and everything.

“Blyad...” I mutter through my teeth.

Jane appears beside us and hurries us along.

“Oksana, come on. Katya, wait for my signal.”

Like a robot, I obey.

Before she disappears from my view, Oksana gives me another encouraging smile, then starts toward the right, past the column, down the aisle.

As the music fitting for such an event begins to play, the air grows harder to breathe.

My heart pounds, and I can feel panic closing in.

I don’t want to do this.

I know it’s wrong, but I can no longer change anything.