Page 41 of Hunted Vengeance

Every person in the audience is part of my father’s or Malcolm’s world, and I don’t care if they see these marks on my skin. I’m sure they don’t care, either, to be perfectly honest. They didn’t give a single fuck when I was auctioned off like an animal to be used for a price. A little skin damage isn’t going to bother them in the least.

Chapter Eighteen

MERRICK

When the crowdedparking lot seems to clear of the vendors’ arrivals, it’s time for us to go. Keeping my gun in my grasp, I hold it against my thigh so it’s camouflaged and I can slip into the church without being noticed… too much, at least.

Theron goes left, and I head right. I assume that Colette is in the bridal room getting ready, and thankfully, Boden is able to find a back entrance to the room so I can slip in without being noticed.

Once I reach the door, I gently slide it open. I can hear women’s voices in the distance, none being Colette’s, as I take a step inside. Thankfully, there are some curtains and even a dressing accordion set up, so I gently close the door behind me, twisting the lock into place when I do.

The lock is flimsy as fuck, just like on all pocket doors, but I’m not going to be caught off guard if someone tries to come in here behind me. Only I’m allowed to spy on Colette. I want to barge into the room but decide against it.

As much as I want to drag her out of here, I also need to ensure that we are able to disappear for a while before her being missing is noticed. We need to be able to get away as quickly as we can and travel as far as possible before anyone starts looking for us.

So I stay back and listen. I wait to hear her voice, hoping that she will say something, anything, so I know she is okay. Seeing her appearing so thin and disheveled sent my anxiety through the fucking roof as it is.

I need to know that she is okay.

I need to hear her voice.

I’m not sure what the women are all talking about. I’m finding it hard to concentrate, but when I hear one of them ask Colette if she’s excited for today, that’s when I hear her voice. Her tone is soft, as it always is, but her voice sounds raspy, almost like she hasn’t used it in a while and is out of practice. But I do hear her.

“Not really.”

Though this situation warrants no smiles, my lips still curve up into a grin at her response. I’m glad she’s telling the truth. Nobody responds to her words, and a few moments of complete silence later, another voice asks her to look in the mirror.

“You’re all finished, and it’s flawless,” she says.

Colette doesn’t speak immediately, but I can hear her shifting around before she says something.

“My hair and makeup look gorgeous,” she murmurs.

I can hear the sincerity in her voice, even if she isn’t happy about marrying this piece of shit. She appreciates these women and their hard work. As they pack up their things, I can hear them calling out to her as they leave the room, and then the door opens and closes.

Tilting my head to the side, I wait to hear if they’re all gone, and just before I get ready to step out and reveal myself, the door opens again, and I hear another woman’s voice. She practically sings as she walks into the room, and I pause.

“It’s time for your dress,” the woman practically squeals, and I then realize who it is.

It’s the wedding planner. I’ve been watching her for long enough to know nobody else is that excited about this wedding. This bitch wants Colette out of the picture because she thinks she’s going to be the next Mrs. Bellucci.

She wants to sign her own death wish. That’s on her. She can have Adriano all to herself because I’m taking Colette out of here, and she will never be back. I hear the rustling of fabric, and as much as I don’t want to think of Colette in a wedding gown, that’s exactly what image pops into my mind.

I never did get to see her in a real wedding dress because our marriage was so rushed. We didn’t have a true wedding. I should give that to her next time. When this is done and we’re back home, when she’s safe, I’m going to give her the wedding she wants. Not this over-the-top shit, but what she wants.

Because Colette deserves everything she wants.

COLETTE

Marina helpsme with my dress. The naked dress. Once she zips it up, she makes a noise in the back of her throat. I take that moment to lift my gaze to my reflection in the mirror.

It’s too big for me.

In fact, it’s almost so big that you can see the parts that the strategically placed appliqués are supposed to cover… like my boobs, my pussy, and my ass.

“How the hell did you lose this much weight?” Marina snaps. “You know, if you had bothered to show up instead of being too fucking busy and selfish, then you would have a dress that fits properly. You’re going to ruin the entire aesthetic of this wedding,” she snaps.

I’ve offended her by being kidnapped, chained to a bed, and given one meal a day for the past three weeks. Frankly, I don’t give a shit about Marina or her being upset or happy. I couldn’t care less about her as a person or her opinion.

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