Page 105 of Sardonic Burn

I grab some napkins to wipe my mouth and hands. We’re sitting in my living room with a random volleyball game playing on the big screen behind me. I’m on the floor, legs crossed, dressed in a casual, white shirt and a pair of bike shorts.

“I was worried,” Dylan says, eyes softening.

“There’s this thing called a cell phone,” I mumble and take a big swig of the cold beer. “And you really were not supposed to bring Niko with you. He’s annoying.”

Dylan laughs while Niko throws me a glare. I ignore it and sprawl on the floor, enjoying the crack in my back once it meets the hard, wooden surface. It’s chilly and yet so peaceful.

“How are your injuries, Dylan?”

“Completely healed, thank you.” He smiles. “But there are scars. I’ll probably get them surgically removed.”

I nod. “That’s up to you.”

Time passes quickly.

Hudson and I spent every waking moment together training. He was trying to improve my hand-to-hand combat skills. After weeks of sweat, tears, and torture, I am finally ready for that damn auction.

Physically, at least.

Mentally? I need at least four years to prepare myself. But there’s no time, and I’m not prolonging this further. This weekend is possibly the only chance to put a stop to it, and I will not stop until the motherfucker is six feet under.

Hudson will be here in four hours, and that’s when we’ll leave.

But these two idiots are messing with my head. Why did they have to drop by now, of all the nights? Niko definitely knows how important tonight is, and I don’t see a reason for him to disrupt my plans. In fact, he is on the goddamn support team.

“Now, tell me why you’re here.”

Dylan glances at Niko with a hint of excitement before his eyes settle on me. He clears his throat, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Well, I’m very pleased to announce that I managed to move our wedding date forward.”

I freeze.

Everything around me stops moving. My chest starts hurting, and I can’t tell if it’s because I suddenly forgot how to breathe or because the pain that is slowly spreading through my body like a poison is getting too unbearable.

My nails dig into my palm, squeezing until blood starts to trickle. It doesn’t hurt—or rather, it’s the thing that hurts the least. My throat is dry, and no words are able to come out. I’m processing all of this while Niko is dumbfounded.

He was never on board with this marriage. But over time, he and Dylan became friends. It’s not anything too personal or too close, but still better than it was in the beginning.

Now, however, Niko is in a worse state than I am.

He’s practically seething with anger, brows narrowed in suspicion at Dylan. Dylan either doesn’t want to engage with Niko’s little fit, or he doesn’t even notice because his attention is solely on me.

“Excuse me?”

Dylan nods enthusiastically. “It was hard, since our venue is rather popular these days, but with a little cash, they brought the date forward. It’s in three weeks.”

My eyes nearly pop out of my sockets.

“Three fucking weeks? You did it without asking me first? What is wrong with you? The answer is no, Dylan.”

He frowns. “Why are you so upset? You were the one who wanted to get married as soon as possible.”

That’s true. But that was months ago, before I met Hudson. The thought of marrying anyone but that annoyinglittle De Santis makes my stomach twist and turn. It’s nauseating to even think about marrying Dylan, especially with his odd behavior the past five weeks.

“Not in three fucking weeks.” I look at Niko for help, and he nods.

“Listen, Dylan,” he starts speaking, anger evident on his face. “Marriage takes two. Deciding on this without Noelle was a shitty move. I’d be surprised if she still wants to marry you.”

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