Page 9 of White Wings of Desire

But when? I was at home, except for a quick run to the grocery store, which took only about twenty minutes. The only other times he could have come in unnoticed would have been when I was in the shower or - when I was asleep.

My heartbeat quickens; the thought of him forcing his way into the apartment while I was asleep fills me with a sense of panic I have never experienced before. I have never felt so vulnerable and defenseless as I do right now.

Knowing that he could easily sneak in without me noticing…means that I can't even stay at home. I can't take refuge in the one place I thought I'd be safe from him. Besides, he will be waiting for me at the wedding. If I don't show up, will he be angry? What if someone innocent gets hurt just because I decided to chicken out?

I take a deep breath and grip the fabric of my dress. My gaze drifts to my gun case lying in the corner of my bedroom. I have no other option; I have to face him. I can either go out and have fun and prove to him that I’m not afraid. That I’m ready to take him on, or I can prove him right by being too scared and staying home, all alone, trapped, waiting for my executioner. I push myself off the bed, still gripping the fabric of the dress tight. I didn't buy this beautiful dress for nothing. If I’m going out, I’m going out in style...

The ceremony was beautiful, in a gorgeous setting, with heartfelt and emotional vows from the bride and groom. I have to admit that I shed a tear or two during their vows to each other. I never saw myself getting married and I never imagined I would be able to share such a beautiful bond with someone. The job had made it impossible, and bringing someone into this life would have been too dangerous.

That's why almost everyone in the business is single, and those who do date are usually with someone in a similar line of work, someone who knows the risks and is willing to take them. After I left, I really thought I could have those things.

Today, when I saw the couple getting married, I felt so jealous. I'm longing for that kind of connection with someone. But right now, my future is nothing but gray clouds of uncertainty. With the Dove Killer breathing down my neck, the chances of fulfilling these dreams are very slim.

I bring my glass of champagne to my lips and take a small sip. I haven't really been able to enjoy the wedding reception so far. There were only a few selected people at the ceremony; including me, there were about sixty people. None of the guests or the few vendors present were acting suspiciously. Apart from the King family, no one paid much attention to me. This tells me he wasn’t present during the ceremony, for which I am grateful. But now, with more than three hundred people at the reception, he can blend in with the bustling crowd. He could be anyone at this point; he could be across the room, or right behind me.

Dinner and cake had been served before sunset; all that remains is to celebrate the newlyweds and the party is in full motion. Everyone is drinking and dancing to the loud music played by the DJ.

I am standing among a group of young women, bridesmaids and other friends of the bride, whom I have met before. Caught up in the lively chatter, I'm able to forget the circumstances in which I find myself. For a moment, I'm just a twenty-six-year-old woman enjoying a wedding, getting drunk, gossiping, checking out some of the men in the crowd, and judging them with the other girls.

Taking a short break from the lively conversation, my gaze sweeps over the crowd. A smile plays on my lips as my eyes land on the newlywed couple, who are also engaged in a lively conversation. My eyes widen in surprise as I recognize the man they are talking to, it’s the man I saw at the intersection weeks ago. He is real; I was not hallucinating. My heart skips a beat.

From this distance, I can see how handsome he really is. My eyes roam over his whole body. His hair is less messy than last time, now perfectly styled. He is wearing a striking, form-fitting black suit that highlights his broad shoulders. He is dressed in all black, even his shirt and tie.

My heart flutters when he throws his head back and laughs wholeheartedly at something the groom said. His good looks are deceiving. He looks friendly, easygoing, and very approachable.

My lips suddenly begin to feel dry, and my tongue slips out of my mouth and glides over my lips, keeping them moist. My gaze wanders lower, anticipating what his suit pants might reveal if they fit just as well as his jacket. I freeze as I see his left hand covered in the shiny material of a black leather glove. My breath catches in my throat as he raises his right, ungloved hand and places it on the groom's shoulder.

No, no, no, no. I repeat like a mantra in my head. I move closer to one of the bridesmaids at my side. "Hey, do you know who that guy is that the couple is talking to?" I ask, struggling to keep my voice calm. The girl I asked turns from the group to look at the newlyweds. It takes her a second before she answers.

"I believe he is a close business partner of the groom," she says.

A business partner of the groom? I'm not really surprised that Mr. King's daughter is marrying someone involved in shady business. These powerful families are intertwined, and it is natural for their children to get married. But to someone who seems to be hiring the Dove Killer on a regular basis?

To add to my misery, the bride places her hand on the man's shoulder, moving him to turn in my direction. She lifts her other hand and points directly to where I am standing. He follows the direction she gives him and, the moment our eyes meet, the corners of his lips rise in a devilish yet charming smile, and he winks at me.

Fuck.

He found me.

My pulse quickens, my eyes dart around the room, and I watch the crowd mingle. I have to get out and lure him away. I can't risk innocent people getting caught up in whatever he's planning. When he turns his attention back to the groom and bride, I take the opportunity. Excusing myself from the group of girls, I slip through the crowd, looking for an escape. With shaking hands, I check to make sure my gun and knife are still secure in the holster hidden under the puffy skirt of my peachy dress. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him saying goodbye to the couple. He gives the groom a brotherly hug with a soft smile on his lips.

I pause for a moment, hidden by the people waiting for their drinks near the bar. I look at the door in front of me, the green emergency exit sign shining brightly in the dimly lit room. I checked the hallway earlier. There are only a few maintenance rooms and the fire escape stairs, which makes it perfect for an escape route. The chance of guests getting lost in there is minimal. I turn around and see that he has moved on, cutting through the crowd and heading for the group of bridesmaids I was talking to earlier. I continue, shoving people aside.

When I reach my destination, I push the heavy door open, the hinges squeaking. I steal one last glance back as I make my way through. He is already moving in my direction. Rushing into the hallway, I put some distance between myself and the door. I pull up the fluffy skirt of my dress and draw the pistol from my holster. The door opens with another squeak and I jerk around, raising the pistol and tightening my grip on the handle. He stops and raises his hands defensively on either side of his face. The heavy door slams shut behind him.

"Well, hello, Evelyn," he says, his voice low, but I can hear the joy in every word leaving his mouth. "I was not expecting such a warm welcome." He takes a step forward with a grin on his face.

"Stay the fuck back," I warn. Every step he takes forward, I take one back, determined to keep the distance between us.

"Or what?" he asks, and this time he takes a bigger step forward.

"I will shoot you," I raise my voice and yell at him. Despite the threat, he doesn't stop. In fact, he looks amused and laughs at me.

"You could have shot me the moment I walked through that door, and yet, here we are." His eyes shine with mockery.

"Shut up and stay back," I warn him once again, but he continues to approach with slow and steady steps. His stupid grin never leaving his face.

I flinch as I bump into something, most likely one of the few trashcans in the hallway. I take a quick look behind me to get an idea of my current situation. In the few seconds I take my eyes off him, he makes his way down the hallway. His long fingers wrap around the wrist of my dominant hand, which holds the weapon. I cry out in pain as he twists my arm outward until it hurts so bad that it feels like he may snap my bones in half. I drop the pistol with a loud clatter, and he kicks it away.

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