Page 22 of Covenant

Opening up to Jackson last night had been easier than I’d thought. Not his reaction, that’d been just as bad as I expected. He called me every name under the sun, surprising me with some of the language he knew. It was only when I turned it around, asking if he’d do it for me, that he stopped.

Then he switched to trying to think of a way out for me.

But, at the end of it, he knew just as I did—I have to do this.

This is what happens when you go to The Firm. That’s why it’s the reserve of the desperate or greedy.

Jackson swore to keep my secret. Not that he has anyone to tell. His friends disappeared as fast as mine did when his accident happened and our lives tumbled down the drain.

Fuckers.

It was only when I was getting ready this morning that I realized I had nothing to wear. Part of me was tempted to just go in my sweats. To show Matthias what I really think about this so-called marriage.

But my ego wouldn’t let me. It would only let Matthias know how much he’s gotten to me.

A knock on my door solved that problem. Along with the movers, there was another delivery man. This one had a suit bag over his arm.

Matthias must’ve suspected I might try to show him up and decided to step in before I could.

I hate how the navy blue suit fits. How perfectly it hugs my withered chest and skinny biceps. How it flatters me, even though I’m a shadow of my former self.

He’s dressed as sharply as I am, his suit all black. I pretend not to notice. I don’t let myself even acknowledge him when I join him at the altar.

I don’t meet his eyes, but he looks at me intently, slipping that ring on my finger with a whispered promise to always protect me.

A promise he made to me once, long ago, and broke.

I barely hear his words, just look at the silver ring that sits against me like a weight, pulling me under. A physical representation of the freedom I’m giving up.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

Matthias’s hand appears in my line of vision and a ring is held up beside me. I grasp it with nervous fingers, fumbling it before slipping it on him. Our skin brushes and I feel a tingle move through me. It spreads across my palm and up my arm, zinging straight to my heart.

I repeat the words the judge says, not taking in a single one of them in. It’s like there’s a different Wyatt speaking, who’s exchanging binding vows.

It’s not me. It can’t be.

I must be dying, I think as I stare down at our matching bands.

Iamdying. I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

My chest constricts and my lungs refuse to pull in air. Tingling starts in my hands as the edges of my vision begin to darken. I’m going to pass out. I need to lie down. Someone is speaking, but I can’t hear them.

I can’t hear them.

Oh god, why is it so hot in here? I yank at my tie, but it doesn’t shift. I need it to. It’s strangling me. Fuck, why can’t Ibreathe?

Hands touch my shoulders and I’m pulled into a strong chest. It grounds me somewhat, but not enough. My fingers clutch the soft fabric instinctively, searching for an anchor.

Matthias.

“Breathe,” he whispers. “Listen to my voice. Breathe. In. Out.”

He inhales deeply, and I copy him. I can’t do anything but focus on the rise and fall of his chest. The arms holding me steady.

I have to pull myself together. I don’t want him to see me fall apart. But he already has. He knows I’m struggling, that this is affecting me more than I care to admit.

---