Page 64 of Wicked Embers

“You look...” Tracy trails off, her eyes misting.

I turn to look at myself in the mirror, and for a moment, I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. The dress clings perfectly, the train pooling at my feet like starlight. It fits me like it was made just for me.

“We’ll take it,” Tracy tells the boutique owner, her voice firm.

“Wait, Tracy, no—“ I catch sight of the price tag and feel my knees wobble. “That’s insane!”

She waves me off. “I was told—any dress you want!”

The boutique owner brings out more champagne while we wait for her to finish the transaction and carefully prepares the dress for us. My stomach churns with unease as I can’t help but feel I’m walking into a trap.

Back at the penthouse, the atmosphere feels... off. The staff is bustling, hanging decorations in the living room, while the air is heavy with the overwhelming scent of fresh flowers. Something isn’t right. Everyone keeps casting me strange, knowing glances. I’m about to comment to Tracy when a towering man steps into my path.

His icy blue eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. He’s even taller, broader, and more intimidating than Radomir—a presence that demands submission.

“You must be Leigh,” he says, his deep voice commanding the room’s attention. “I’m Oleksi Mirochin, Radomir’s cousin.”

He extends his hand, and though I hesitate, I can’t avoid placing mine in his. The moment his fingers close around mine in a firm handshake, I notice the ring on his middle finger. A jolt of fragmented images slams into me, sharp and disorienting, like shards of glass piercing my mind. Disjointed. Vivid. Terrifying.

A wave of fear crashes over me, visceral and uncontrollable, like a snake striking and sinking its venom into my veins. My instincts take over, and I yank my hand back so forcefully, pain shoots through my shoulder.

“Hello,” I croak, stepping back, heart pounding. Panic coils in my stomach as I try to mask my reaction.

Before Oleksi can say more, a tall woman approaches, her movements graceful but deliberate.

“Hello, Leigh,” the woman greets me, her voice smooth, almost familiar. A hazy image swims before my eyes, and the sharp pain tearing at my temples intensifies. Her next words are muffled by the roar of my pulse. “It’s nice to meet you.” Her eyes flick to Tracy, and she speaks in Russian, glancing at Oleksi.

Tracy stiffens beside me, her face paling. She nods but doesn’t speak.

“What’s going on?” I demand, my voice trembling.

“Mr. Mirochin needs to speak with me,” Tracy says, her tone guarded. Then, gesturing to the woman, she adds, “This is my sister Judy. She’ll help you get dressed for your—“

Judy’s name strikes like a hammer to my brain, and I don’t hear the end of Tracy’s sentence. A voice from deep within—a memory muffled and distorted, like an old, warped cassette—echoes:Judy, help her!My body jerks as if struck by lightning.

A deafening blast reverberates in my mind, and I feel vibrations in my hands. Another voice screams:Get her out of here! She’s just a kid, for fuck’s sake!

“Leigh?” Judy’s worried voice cuts through the chaos. “Are you okay?”

“What?” I blink, trying to shake off the dizziness. My ears ring, and my hands tremble, still buzzing with phantom vibrations.

“Leigh!” Oleksi barks, his tone impatient and biting. “Stop stalling. You need to go with Judy and get dressed. You’re marrying Radomir today and I won’t tolerate any of your tricks.”

The words hit like a sledgehammer. My legs buckle, and I grasp at the wall for support.Marry?My head spins.

“No,” I whisper, the word barely audible. “This isn’t happening.”

The elevator dings, drawing my attention. Despite the nausea and pounding headache, my fight-or-flight instincts flare. The doors slide open, and my heart leaps.Escape.

But Oleksi blocks me before I can bolt. His hand clamps onto my arm, his grip bruising, his fingers digging into a scar I know too well. My eyes lock onto the round pink blemish, and the room tilts. It’s the scar I got when a bolt when through my arm in the accident that killed my mother.

Oleksi leans closer, his voice low and threatening. “Don’t even try it.”

His words echo through my skull, fusing with another voice from the past.Don’t even try it! If you pull it out, she couldbleed to death!My mind splinters, dragging me back into the abyss.

Twelve Years Ago

“It hurts, Papa,” I whimper, my voice barely audible. The arrow embedded in my arm burns like hellfire, the heat spreading through my body, making it hard to breathe. “I can pull it out.”

---