Page 25 of Twisted Kings

Torrance’s fingers dug into my arm. More bruises. Fantastic. I’d probably look like a Picasso painting soon, all lumps, bumps, and odd colors.

“Take her back in. I’ll be there shortly. I need to have a word with Marku and then we can start the ceremony,” he told Torrance.

Torrance guided me back into the drawing room. I didn’t bother struggling. What was the point? With so many guards around, I stood no chance of escaping.

When I turned back to look at Mrs. Gia, tears blurred my eyes. She watched, her face etched with defeat. “I’m sorry,” I mouthed, wanting to say so much more, but paralyzed by what my father would do to Verity if I dared to defy him.

She shook her head and smiled. “It’s OK,” she mouthed. At least, I think she did. I wasn’t great at lip reading.

This was rapidly turning into the most dysfunctional wedding on the planet. Game of Thrones, eat your heart out. All we needed now was a massacre.

As I struggled to remain upright, Torrance leaned in.

“This is your last warning, Thea. Step out of line one more time, and I swear to God, I’ll make you watch while I gut your sister. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” I ground out. When I looked at Mrs. Gia, she’d turned away to comfort Verity. At that moment, I hated my father more than ever. Mrs. Gia had sacrificed 12 years of her life for Verity, given up the chance to have children of her own. Verity loved her. She was the only mother my sister had known.

Memories of our mother were sparse, but I knew she’d loved me. She would have loved Verity, too, had she lived. Mrs. Gia deserved better than this. They both did.

One day, my father would pay. It might not be today, or tomorrow, or even next week, but it would happen. I made a silent promise to myself that both he and Torrance would suffer before they passed over to the next life. Or more accurately, took a trip down into the bowels of Hell, where I felt sure Lucifer himself had a spot waiting for the two of them.

Me too, probably. I’d shed enough blood to forfeit my chances of being allowed through the pearly gates, but I didn’t have time to worry about my immortal soul right now.

The door from the hallway opened and Marku entered the drawing room, accompanied by four hulking guards, all armedwith automatic weapons. Good to know there wasn’t much trust between him and my father.

Dad strolled in after him, a smirk in place. He scanned the room, ignoring me. Chatter died down and people shuffled on their chairs, anxious for the ceremony to begin.

“Ah, your loving groom has arrived,” Torrance laughed. “It’s time for us to hand you over to your new husband.” Dad walked over and wrenched me away from Torrance. He tucked my hand through his arm. In a twisted semblance of a father accompanying his beloved daughter down the aisle, we walked toward Father Raphael, who stood swaying by the fire, his bible in hand.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen…”

My eyes met Marku. His oily gaze slid down my body before he licked his lips in appreciation for whatever he saw.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”

Torrance stood behind me while my father gripped my arm. Marku’s men looked like clay soldiers, their faces carefully blank. All four of them appeared more than ready to mow down everyone in this room, which was a testament to how tenuous this little arrangement clearly was.

The guests watching stared with a mix of boredom and curiosity. Were none of them concerned this was obviously not a love match? I assumed not.

It was fucking obvious to me that while Marku had agreed to take me as his bride, along with Verity, he didn’t trust Dad. And who could blame him? My father was as trustworthy as a snake.

“Dear friends, we have come together in the presence of God and of the Church to witness the marriage of Theadora and Konstantin, and to ask God's blessing on them as they begintheir married life together.”The priest stumbled over his words. Dad’s grip tightened on my arm as a silent warning before he stepped back to allow Marku to take his place alongside me.

The fire blazed in the grate, but my body felt ice cold like not even the fiery pits of hell could warm my bones right now. In the background, Verity said my name. I heard Mrs. Gia attempt to silence her as the priest droned on, but whatever sedative Torrance had administered was wearing off.

A chair scraped against the parquet flooring as someone moved.

“The Lord has already consecrated you in baptism. Now he calls you to the sacrament of marriage, inviting you to live out your baptismal consecration in a new way as husband and wife.”

The sound of a deep rumble caught my attention. The priest heard it too. My ears picked up a faint bang, almost like a gunshot, and the house shook as if an earthquake had struck.

Vases of flowers fell to the floor, spilling water everywhere. Outside the room, I heard yelling and screaming. A few logs tumbled out of the grate, casting burning embers perilously close to Father Raphael’s cassock. Beyond the windows, smoke poured into the wintry sky as alarms blared.

What the fuck was happening? From my father’s expression, this wasn’t planned.

The guests exchanged worried glances. Most jumped to their feet, anxiously scanning the room, searching for the threat. Guns emerged from holsters and purses.

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