Page 142 of Ruined Vows

“She was bluffing,” Quinn says suddenly, eyes connecting with mine.

“She wasn’t,” I bite out. “I was watching for her tell.”

But Quinn’s dark eyes don’t waver. “She doesn’t have one. I checked her cards that were left on the table at Poker night. She would’ve beaten you if she’d showed her cards. Flush over straight.”

“What?” I bark, confused. “Why would she—?” But then my words cut off, thinking back, and instantly getting it. She’d wanted to play that night. And prove me wrong. That shedidhave a poker face. But she was so good that unlike a man, she wouldn’t have had to shove it in my face that she’d actually won. If I thought she had a tell, she could manipulate me for many games to come.

Say like, in a game where it mattered.

The question was, why had lying to me two days ago mattered?

Fuck. I clench my fists. Son of a—FUCK! Everything suddenly makes sense. Someone powerful keeping me in jail with no phone call—the fuckhead’s dad was a senator. The guys coming at me in the yard. Then her saying all that shit I didn’t want to believe she meant, but she wasn’t biting her lip, so I thought she?—

Dammit. She always was too smart for her own good. All the while, she was just trying to save me from that little shit.

“Take me there,” I growl. “Now.”

“We can sort it all out later,” Domhn says. “You don’t look like you’re in such good shape, lad.”

I storm toward Domhn’s car and yank the front passenger door open. “Drive.” I ignore the pain radiating through my body as I climb in.

Moira and Quinn are already hopping in the back, and Domhn has no choice but to get in.

“There’s not much time if you want to fix it before the ceremony,” Moira says urgently from behind us.

“Seatbelts,” is all Domhn says, and then, like a good brother in arms, he fucking floors it.

FIFTY-SEVEN

KIRA

“And do you,Kira Elizabeth Roberts, take this man to be your husband?”

Drew’s had my hands in his grip ever since my father handed me over to him. Like a piece of livestock they don’t want to get away.

When I’m silent a breath longer than I should be, the fingernails of Drew’s bony fingers dig into my skin.

“I do!” I blurt before I can think better of it.

There’s been a loud, panicked buzzing in my ears throughout the entire ceremony, and my eyes dart around to try to figure out an exit plan. Surely during the elaborate celebration afterward, I’ll be able to slip away? Drew will have to take his eagle-eyed gaze off me at some point… right?

Yesterday, this seemed like the only sane choice. But what is sane when I’m dealing with a psychopath? Was Drew ever planning to let Isaak out of jail?

“If anyone objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Me. I object!

But my lips stay sealed as Drew’s grip on my hands gets tighter and my wrist aches remembering the punishing, bone-breaking hold he had on me in the changing room.

The pastor continues to drone on and on as panic grows in my chest.

Some stupid part of me hoped I had misdiagnosed Drew. That he was just pushed to desperate measures because of the pressure from his father. And that he would neverreallyhurt me. But any last ember of hope I had for him is gone. He’ll continue to hurt me and worse.

I can’t live with him. I’ll marry him if I have to, but I won’t stay.

I gulp, my eyes shooting back and forth, and I’m even more panicked when the pastor begins his next statement: “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

Drew’s smarmy hands latch around my waist, and everything in me recoils in ick as he starts to bring his mouth toward mine.

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