Page 12 of Savage Pakhan

I glance around the room, finding myself alone on my wedding day. No bridesmaids, no mom, no maid of honor.

Alone. Just like Ivan wanted. I’m tired of him getting what he wants. What about what I want? I’m tired of living my life for someone else, for someone who doesn’t appreciate the air in my lungs in the beat of my heart.

I can’t do this.

The expensive life, the wealth, the luxury, it will all come to an end, and I don’t care. Money has never mattered this much to me. The pearls around my neck? An apology from him when he hit me so hard, he knocked me unconscious.

I rip it off my neck and throw it across the room, the pearls bouncing and clattering on the hardwood floor. I take the back off the matching earrings, tossing them on the floor too along with my bracelet.

I don’t want his apology jewelry. He doesn’t mean a damn word he says.

I’m done.

Grabbing the doorhandle, I take a deep breath, settling my nervous. My stomach twists with uncertainty. This attempt to escape might kill me, but I have no other choice. Taking one last look at the high beamed ceilings, I twist the handle and slowly open the door so no one can hear me.

The wind blows in the sweet scent of flowers, the only beauty this day has to offer. The sun shines bright, the warmth beaconing me to touch freedom. One step. That’s all it takes for me to start a new life.

Kicking off my high heels, I run down the stone path, the sunlight hitting my shoulders, almost as if it’s pushing me to get away. The stone pathway digs into the bottoms of my feet, attempting to slow me down. When pain becomes normal for everyday living, things that should hurt, no longer do.

Bees bumble as they travel from flower to flower. Butterflies flap and spready their wings, landing on freshly bloomed petals. Dragonflies soar, nearly landing on me.

The world moves on, no matter where life takes you or how bad it gets.

I press my back against the wall of the cathedral church, peeking around the corner to see the getaway car sitting out front and no one is outside. It’s a beautiful vintage cream-colored Bentley. On the back window it says, “Honk! We just got married!”

Making sure I have a tight hold of my skirt, I make a run for it. The tulle flows behind me, the corset squeezing my lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

The things I’ve done for this contract. Never again.

I stretch out my arms to feel the car under my hands. It’s real. This is happening. I’m getting away.

Closing my eyes, I hope the driver’s side door opens.

The handle clicks.

I climb inside, my dress taking up the majority of the seat. I don’t bother with my seatbelt. I can’t waste a second.

It must be my lucky day somehow because the keys are in the ignition. Without looking back, the engine rumbles to life, and I slam my foot on the gas. The tires spin on the pavement, burning rubber that seeps through the vents. I rip off my veil, tossing it in the passenger seat, needing it off me.

Whipping the wheel left, cars honk when I turn right in front of them, cutting them off. They have to slam on their breaks and skid to a stop in a dich to miss hitting me. A few people hold up their arms, and one gives me their middle finger.

I don’t care.

No one knows what I’ve had to go through to get here. I’m being selfish.

But it’s my wedding day. I’m allowed to be.

The air conditioning blows against my heated face, calming me in a sense. The radio plays softly from the speakers, playing a song I don’t recognize.

I’m not sure how long I’m driving before I feel like I’ve gotten far enough away, and I can relax. My shoulders slump and the tension in my neck eases.

Now that the adrenaline has slightly faded, something else has the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Goosebumps form on my arms.

I know that feeling.

I lift my gaze in the rearview mirror to see hard, green eyes staring at me, his silver hair seeming brighter in the sunlight.

“Mia,” Alek says, holding up my diary that I lost the day of the shooting.