Page 21 of Twisted Kings

One of them reached into her bag and pulled out a protein bar. She passed it over, and I snatched it from her, not caring that it made me look like a feral beast with zero manners. This might be the last thing I had to eat for hours, potentially days. I needed to make the most of any calories I could grab.

“Thanks,” I said between swallows.

The oldest of the three, a gray-haired woman in her 50s, looked concerned at the state of me but elected not to comment. Once I’d finished the cereal bar, I disappeared into the bathroom, eager to wash the filth from my body. If today was my wedding day, I’d be damned if I was walking down the ‘aisle’ smelling like a dog that had rolled in fox shit.

A girl had standards.

Ruth, Chiara, Celeste, and I were now on a first-name basis. It seemed only fair, given they’d seen every inch of my body while plucking, shaving, and tweaking it. I wasn’t sure what my father had told them, but they were polite and nervous around me.

Ruth, the oldest, asked me several times if I was OK, having seen the bruises around my wrists and the abrasions on my back. I’d pasted a smile on my face and given her a stock answer.

There was no point asking her for help. She was a middle-aged woman, not a Navy Seal. If my father suspected any of these women had tried to help me escape, he’d shoot them without blinking.

So I pretended my lack of excitement about the impending nuptials was down to nerves, not horror.

Celeste stepped back and smiled. “You look beautiful.”

I stood and turned to face the mirror. The woman staring back at me looked like a stranger.

Chiara had pinned my hair up but left a few curls hanging loose to frame my heart-shaped face. My eyes looked larger than ever against my slightly sunken cheeks. Celeste had done her best to give them some color, but my olive skin remained sallow from days underground.

Whoever had chosen my dress must have shopped at the nearest adult store. Nothing said slutty bride more than small scraps of white lace tied together with ribbons. I had a feeling this was Torrance’s work since I doubted my father gave a shit what I wore on my wedding day.

He was selling me for cold, hard cash, not handing me over with a tear in his eye. The ladies had been horrified when I unwrapped the stupid dress from a garment bag. Ruth clutched her imaginary pearls and Celeste snapped an eyebrow pencil in shock.

Was this how I pictured my wedding day?

No.

I’d seen a show once where the main female character got married on a beach at dusk. Just her, her husband-to-be, and a few close friends. That was the kind of wedding I’d choose, you know, if I had an actual choice.

Had Landon moved on already? Was he texting some other girl, calling her his wifey? Knowing him, probably.

What we had was never real. In truth, none of them had completely breached my emotional walls. Not really. Milo had seen my more vulnerable side, but even with him, I’d kept things back. Lied about who I was. Concealed my true motives for being at Abernethy.

They were right to hate me.

The locked turned and Torrance strode in wearing one of his trademark black evil mafia henchman suits. He scanned me from head to toe, nodding with approval at the sight of my tits and ass hanging out.

“Good job, ladies. The boss will be happy you managed to turn a pig’s ear into a silk purse.”

The women tittered with nervous laughter while I rolled my eyes.

“What a pity they couldn’t magic you up a new personality,” I muttered under my breath, but he didn’t hear me.

“Come, Thea,” he grinned like it was Christmas Day and our guests were waiting to tuck into a turkey. “It’s time to meet your new husband.”

I grimaced at the thought of Marku the walrus, threw my shoulders back, and fixed my face into a mask. He may have been a fat bastard, but Marku was a predator, and like all predators, he’d pounce at the first sign of weakness.

“God be with you,” Ruth whispered as I passed her.

10

Kyril

Enzo’s Catering was a small family affair. And by family, I meant mafia family. Dear old Enzo had been catering mafia christenings, weddings, and funerals for decades. The local mafia families trusted him to provide a good selection of nibbles and booze.

We’d found out about the wedding two days ago, thanks to intel from Dario’s father, who'd overheard a conversation between Francesco and Torrance.

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