Page 32 of The Wraith & Her Killer

One would think they’re a bad omen, but in truth, they’re eerily beautiful.

“For Christ’s sake, Odessa,” the woman beside me snaps and hisses as she snatches it from his hand and shoves it into my chest, some of the dried baby’s breath fluttering to the floor around me.

Bitch.

Without a word, the guard turns to leave. Before he disappears from my line of sight, I swear that I catch the faded cut of silvery-white hair peeking from beneath an eight-point newsboy hat that’s pulled down to cover his downcast eyes.

My heart beats in a slow,sorrowful rhythm as I’m led to the beginning of my end.

“Where is your father?” my stepmother grits through her teeth as we approach the rear foyer of my father’s estate, but I don’t answer. I don’t know where he is and I don’t care, either.

Just as we reach the double doors, she looks around again. “Wait here,” she hisses before scurrying off in search of him. I shift from foot to foot, debating trying to make a run for it, but a crunching sound beneath my feet gives me pause.

The air in my lungs completely seizes when I look down. I bend as much as my dress will allow and pick up the tiny object I just crushed. A shocked gasp is forced up and out of my lungs as I stare at the two perfect halves of a candy heart and the four letters split evenly into two.

M-I-N-E.

The candy remnants fall from my now trembling hand and my eyes refocus on my bouquet. Mydeadbouquet. My heart rate kicks up when I spot a small, rolled piece of paper tucked artfully into one of the dried rose buds.

With shaking fingers, I pluck the parchment from its hiding spot and unroll it.

A bouquet so befitting for one betrothed. Breathtaking, even as she walks amongst us as a living apparition.

See you soon. -X

What?

My initial thought is that this is all just a cruel joke, a heartbreaking point to finally drive home that Adris is never coming back.

It’s been several minutes and my stepmother still hasn’t returned, and my father is nowhere in sight. I can’t find it in me to care because I can’t stop reading this note over and over, scanningthe words for any sign that this is more than just Boris’ vicious cruelty.

Suddenly, a new birth of curiosity and fear has me reaching for the door handle. The moment both doors before me swing open, my jaw drops in shock and horror at the scene laid out before me.

The bodies of every security guard litter the ground, and the once-white decorations, right down to the flowers, have all been smeared and splattered in the deepest crimson of blood. It’s a fucking massacre. But it’s what awaits me at the end of the aisle that urges my feet to move. Four concealed figures stand, waiting behind a bloodstained veil that blows gently in the breeze.

My heart pounds at a renewed, rapid pace when I take that first step over the threshold and into the aisle created within my father’s garden.

Unsteady steps carry me closer, because my legs threaten to buckle beneath me with every inch that closes in between me and whoever awaits me at the end of the aisle. My ankle is still swollen and sore from the shackle that kept me anchored to the floor for three weeks, and walking in the grass does not make my shaky stride any stronger.

The breeze kicks up and the veil concealing the men at the altar flutters in the wind, the blood splattered material parting down the center, and that’s when I see it.

My heart stops entirely before kick-starting again.

Two hauntingly beautiful, impossibly bright silver eyes lock onto mine and hold me captive. The sheer covering settles back in place and I stand frozen, utterly rooted to the spot, because this must be a dream. There’s no other way to explain what I think I just saw.

I force my body to take a step. Then another. Another. Step after step, I move forward until all that separates me from the answers I seek is the bloody veil between us. As if nature were a sentient being, a soft breeze pushes the delicate material open, allowing it to part. With downcast eyes, I step through.

I squeeze my eyes shut, sending out a silent prayer to any greaterpower that may be listening that I’m not going crazy. Footsteps shuffle against the grass, and when I peek through my lashes, I see a pair of dress shoes before me, completely covered in blood.

“Shit, guess I’ll have to have these cleaned, too.”

At the sound of his voice, my head whips up and an involuntary cry bursts from me. I cover my mouth with my hand to try and contain the sobs from within.

It’s him.

It’sreallyhim.

Adris.

---