Page 1 of Hero

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DELILAH

Please god, save me!

My dad escortsme down the church aisle to the subtle strains of a violin accompanied by a piano, quiet gasps, happy sobs, and hushed whispers.

I uphold a tight-lipped smile that hides the burdensome decision carried forward in each step. Here in Thunderbrook, Idaho, a world away from New York, I’m about to promise my heart to a man I don’t love.

And standing at the altar, Harvey Beaufort beckons me on with a full-wattage grin that says,the happiest man alive.The sheer audacity almost cracks my facade.

I tense up, but Dad’s firm grip reminds me that today’s ceremony is about more than love and faithfulness. It’s about loyalty, family, and sacrifice.

My sister Ophelia displays a watery smile and mouthsgood luckbefore sniffling as a wave of anger and disappointment tumbles through me.

I pry my attention away from her but can’t stop the way my stomach hollows as I recall the sext.

I was in the hotel, surrounded by the subdued excitement of bridesmaids bustling about when I noticed my sister’s phone vibrating on the table. Harvey’s name flashed across the screen and a feeling of unease prompted me to pick it up.

My heart shriveled and died as I read a message that asked for him to meet her before the wedding for aquickie. I scrolled up the text thread going back months of emojis—eggplant, tacos, peaches, and tongues. I even got to see Harvey’s family jewels on full display.

That moment my whole world upended.

At the altar things blur together—the minister’s voice, Harvey’s vacant gaze, and his passionless vows.

“I do,” Harvey says, snapping the world back into focus. His confident smile says—perk up, Buttercup. It’ll all be over soon.

I picture the night to come. The mundane sex, the lack of emotional connection, the absence of any intimacy and affection. And the lonely years ahead. Neither one of us truly knows the other, yet tied together in a decorous dance devoid of real conjugal love.

And that’s how it’ll be for the restof our miserable lives.

I almost laugh at the irony, today is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, and yet I am pleading for the universe to intervene.

“And Delilah, do you take Harvey to be your lawful wedded husband, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him, for as long as you both shall live?”

Please god, don’t make me marry him.

The silence is palpable as I prepare to speak, “I–“

Suddenly, a thunderous boom ruptures the palpable silence of the chapel, drawing the attention of the room to the entrance. A rough-looking character with a disheveled mullet crashes intothe room and slams to the floor. He wears a stained white shirt underneath a flannel shirt and torn jeans that look like they’ve seen better days. He glares menacingly.

The crowd gasps.

Reflexively, I take a few steps forward to help him when a knife slips from his fingers and skates across the floor and stops at my feet.

I wilt and stare down at the large blade. When I look up, there’s another figure standing over the fallen man.

I drag my gaze up his six-foot-plus frame of pure manliness wrapped in a sleeveless plaid shirt, jeans, and dark ink that bleeds down powerful arms.

By Odin! Thunderbrook has a god of thunder.

I’m instantly mesmerized.

Chris Hemsworth? No. He’s no Hollywood star that’s for certain. His incredible height and frame isn’t for show. Might he be an actual Norse god? I speculate.

I get my answer when we lock eyes. Magnetic, cold, gray-green eyes latch onto me and refuse to let go. A single bolt of lightning shatters my body. The surge flares through me, igniting my insides down to the cellular level.

I get trapped in his intense gaze and only manage to get free when Ophelia screams and Mr Beaufort shouts, “He’s going for the knife.”

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