Page 90 of Seizing Control: Part One

I hiccup. “Wyatt will catch me before my feet touch the ground.”

“I’ll set his Harley on fire—that’ll distract him.”

“You can’t threaten to burn stuff every time you can’t get your own way.” Nadia rolls her eyes. “Plus, Isaiah’s on the gate, and then there’s the prospects posted up the street.” When she harrumphs under her breath, I smooth her bangs from her forehead. “Face it, Nads, the boys have you beat.”

“Pffft. I take it easy on them.” A giggle erupts from my mouth in the wake of her blatant mistruth and some of the tightness in my chest eases. My best friend grins. “There she is… I was worried I’d be dealin’ with tears all day.”

“I’m not going to cry,” I tell her. “Everyone’s expecting me to mess things up—I won’t give them the satisfaction.”

“It’s more worry than doubt. So many things hinge on you and Slash’s weddin’ being accepted by the Trinity… like, Venom’s plea would be for nothin’ if?—”

“And that’s why I’m determined to prove that I can play my part.” Climbing out of bed, I head for my ensuite bathroom so I can block out her rationalisations. When Nadia launches herself from the mattress to follow, I hold up my hand. “I don’t need supervision in the shower—go and have some breakfast, do your hair, whatever. Just let me wash up in peace.”

“But, the… you know.”

Stomping like a petulant toddler, I yank open the door to the shower alcove and grab my razor. “Here.” I drop it into her outstretched hand. “Lucky I’m waxed from head to toe, or my husband would be dealing with prickly legs and a bush on his wedding night.”

As soon as I name Slash’s new role in my life, the vice grip around my chest returns.

I press my fingertips to my heart and rub to ease the agony.

The memory of Zeke being dragged out of the compound pops into my head.

Nipping at its heels, is the vision of Slash making his impossible demand. “Tell me you love me most?”

If only it was that easy…

“Cherub…” Nadia trails off. Her forehead crinkles as she regards me with sorrow. “Anna. This whole situation is bullshit... if I could fix it, I would.”

“I’m sorry I lashed out at you.” Ignoring the sympathy that flashes across her face, I forge on. “I just want five minutes alone to get my shit together… can you give me that?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs once hair and makeup have arrived.”

Nadia lowers her eyes to stare at the floor. “We’re not gettin’ ready here—Gabriel has arranged for us to use the smaller chapel as a bridal suite. He said it’ll reduce the chances of the Maddisons pulling off a last-minute ambush.” All the reasons why this marriage needs to happen invade my mind. They bounce around my skull, one after the other, a cacophony of crises that imperil my family and friends. “I’m gonna lay out somethin’ for you to wear in the car.”

“Sure.” I touch her forearm. “Thank you for sticking with me through this…”

“Always.” Continuing to avoid meeting my eyes, she murmurs. “Considerin’ it’s pretty much my fault this all happened.”

I don’t have the energy to correct her before she exits the bathroom.

She’s not wrong.

Between Sander and Alex’s war and Nadia’s drug habit being fed by Alex and Hugh, my dumb capitulation to her plan to use Alex to make Zeke jealous when I thought he didn’t want me anymore seems juvenile. Young and dumb, the three of us caused so many problems. Lies. Reckless behaviour. Schemes. Betrayal. The lessons learnt have already left permanent scars, yet the repercussions continue to come.

The courage to ask my twin why he lied about Zeke’s phone call back then eludes me.

I’m not sure I’ll ever find it.

Not if I want to keep our relationship intact.

After waiting for the water to heat up, I step under the spray and tilt my face to the showerhead. The stream pours over me, making it hard to breathe. I keep my eyes screwed shut and hold the oxygen in my lungs until the need to breathe becomes primeval. Spinning around, I exhale with a gasp. My skin crawls. The urge to slice my skin takes over. I don’t want to be weak, but I can’t seem to find the strength to stand alone.

Bereft of my usual coping strategy, I try to fight the compulsion to bleed.

It doesn’t dissipate.

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