Page 39 of Shackled

“What happened there?” he asks.

I let out a breath, still lightly caught in the panic attack. I shake him off and try to brush it away. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not fine. I mentioned your family. Is there something you need to tell me?”

There are lots of things I need to tell him and even more that I don’t.

I shake my head. “It’ll go away.” I turn to face him. It’s time to give him a bit of the truth. If the two of us are going to conquer together, he’ll need to know. I swallow hard. “Suffice to say, my family is nothing like yours.”

His gaze darkens, and he leans in closer. “I know this. But once you’re mine, they can’t touch you. They can try, but I won’t allow it.” He drops his voice. “None of us will.”

For a moment, we stand there in silence. I’m not sure how much of what he’s telling me is bullshit and how much is truth. He’s still the man who’s forcing me into this marriage, but right now, he’s also the man who helped me through a panic attack.

“Why are you being kind to me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looks away, staring out the window. “You’re going to be my wife.”

In my world, that explains nothing. In his, there’s no more to say.

Maybe Lev isn’t just a monster. Maybe he’s as trapped as I am.

His words hang in the air, and for the first time, I see a crack in his armor.

I don’t need a man to protect me. I never have and never will. It matters to me to take care of myself.

“Even as your wife, I don’t want your sympathy,” I say, though the words lack their usual venom.

“I know.” He opens his mouth as if to say something else, then shakes his head. “We’re ready now. Get dressed.”

With that, he turns and leaves the room, the door closing softly behind him. I’m left standing by the window, my mind a whirl of conflicting emotions.

I stare around the room. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon.

Somebody left a white dress wrapped in plastic for me. After carefully putting it on, I stand in front of the mirror, the silk of my wedding dress smooth under my fingers. It’s beautiful, an intricate design of lace and satin that clings to my curves in all the right places. But to me, it’s nothing more than a symbol of my captivity.

Lev has outdone himself in making sure this wedding is perfect. The room is filled with flowers we’ll use for the wedding, their cloying scent heavy in the air. I glance at the door, knowing there are guards posted just outside, ready to pounce at the slightest hint of rebellion.

A knock at the door startles me. His sister Polina, steps in. I knew I’d find sympathy with her, which is probably why he didn’t want me meeting her right away.

“Oooh. It’s gorgeous, Isabella.” Tall and willowy with white-blonde hair, she looks nothing like her brothers, but this family is unlike others. Maybe the only thing that makes the men look like each other are the scowls and muscles.

She’s carrying a small bouquet of roses, her expression a mixture of sympathy and resignation.

“You look beautiful,” she says softly, handing me the bouquet.

“Thanks,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “Not bad for a fake wedding.” I laugh, but it sounds a bit choked.

Polina gives me a sad smile. “Oh, there’s nothing fake about this.”

I nod. That’s not what I meant.

She clears her throat. “This might not make sense to you now, but I promise—my brothers aren’t as mean as they might seem. I won’t make excuses for what they do, but… well, anyway. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

Her words give me a flicker of hope. She doesn’t seem like a liar. It doesn’t matter, anyway. We can still rule together if we call a truce.

We’ll be much stronger if we forge an alliance…

“It’s my own fault,” I tell her. “I was the one who broke the rules.” I shrug. “They could’ve killed me.”

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