Page 61 of Fearless

“Is it true you met on the set of your latest porn production?

“Does he still call you his little girl?”

A beige and green archway appears. Purple strobe lights wash over my face. Dance music blasts out all around me, thankfully drowning out the reporter’s manic questions.

There’s a man standing by the altar, dressed in a black tuxedo, his back turned to me. He’s wearing a fedora pulled low over his head.

Cillian or Cole?

I can still feel their hands on my elbows, dragging me forward despite how I struggle, but I can’t turn my head to see their faces.

They shove me onto the altar. I stumble and turn to face the groom, but it’s as if he’s standing on a Lazy Susan—without taking a step, he spins so his back stays turned to me.

Dark dread boils up inside me.

Why can’t I see his face?

I lift my arm, grab his shoulder, and turn him to face me. There’s a moment where I almost catch a glimpse of his face, but then he’s got his back to me again.

Cillian or Cole?My mind screams.

“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

The answer bubbles up in my throat despite how desperately I try to hold it back.

Again, I drag the groom around.

Again, his face blurs to nothing before his back is turned to me again.

I do.

“Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

I grab the groom’s shoulder.

Drag him around to face me.

His face blurs into a smudge.

And then settles.

It’s Alex.

Alex.

I scream when he shoves me to the altar. Reporters swarm in from everywhere, their camera flashes blinding me.

I scream when Alex scratches the inside of my leg with his fingernails as he drags up my neon green wedding dress.

Scream when he yanks down my panties with his claws.

Fuckingscreamwhen his weight crushes my hips and my legs and my rib cage.

Agony when he breaks me.

But it’s the horror, the humiliation, the absolute sheer panic of not being able to stop him that rips me apart more than he ever could.

My wedding dress disintegrates, revealing the pink dress Cillian photographed me in. Alex’s blond hair darkens. His shoulders widen. Blue eyes turn green.

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