Page 65 of Vows in Sin
I pull my hand away from his just as Cleopatra steps out onto the balcony.
“Hey, you two.” Cleopatra looks from me to him. Then back to me. “Cash landed not long ago. He wants everyone in the dining room.” She shakes her head. “What a way to have your vacation cut short.”
We make it back to the table as they're clearing away plates, him coming in a few minutes after me. I sit there, my body humming, my lips on fire, subconsciously staring down at my lap, examining my light-colored dress for tell-tale stains.
I smooth a napkin over my lap. Luckily, tonight there are plenty of those on the table.
He slides in beside me, energy and heat. Our bodies don’t touch but I can feel the already building wave of fresh need pulsing from him. The lights dim.
A well-dressed man with dark hair and light eyes steps behind a podium at the front of the room, Cash, the current leader of their ashen Village. There’s a quiet whirring sound as a white screen unveils behind him.
He clears his throat. There’s no other sound in the room as he addresses the crowd with his heavy gaze. “The Bachmans have faced tragedy before. We will face it again. We will confront this devastating attack, just as we have all others before. And we will face the hardships sure to come. We will face them with resilience, honor, and hope.”
A cheer rises from the crowd.
“Many of us came from nothing. All of us are strong.” Casting his eyes down, he holds up a hand for silence. “I don’t want our strength to be our downfall. We will rebuild. We will rise from the ashes.” He raises his head, eyes cast over the crowd. “But make no mistake; The devastation we face will be overwhelming.”
The screen behind him lights up. What we’re looking at appears to be either recent footage or a live camera feed of the Village.
The rubble that’s left.
A shocked gasp carries through the crowd.
Beside me, Reign’s head lowers. Under the table, I reach over, putting a hand over his thigh. Instantly, he covers my hand with his, gripping me tight.
Those who were there witnessed the explosions and flames firsthand. But this. This is a graveyard of their fortress. Their safe space. Their home.
Bachman Avenue is blocked off. All of the beautiful stores I loved to walk along—gone—heaps of brownstones and tattered signage in their place. A scene out of a dystopian movie. The block looks strange; instead of the strong, proud building, everything as far as you can see is piles on the ground.
Bulldozers beep as they scrape along the concrete, lifting massive heaps of rubble with their scoops. I watch as one machine drives its load toward the street, dumping it into a chaotic mound. Amidst the debris, a few brightly colored objects are visible—a broken lampshade. As the digger pulls away, a worn tennis shoe tumbles from the pile, bouncing off the concrete.
Someone sobs.
The lights come on.
Cash is already leaving the room, arm in arm with his wife Ella. I catch him brushing at his eyes.
Reign clears his throat. “I’ve never seen him like that before. Let me catch up with him.” He stands, excusing himself, heading in the direction Cash has gone.
My heart goes out to this family. I’ll help as long as I can.
But I have an apartment. Rent due. A job to be found.
Will he stay here? Will he be one of the ones who eventually go back to rebuild?
Will they go back at all?
And how do I fit into the rebuilding of his life?
If I even do.
23
Reign
Seraphina stands in my room in a champagne silk dressing gown, hands steady. I’m sitting in a chair, arm still in a sling, jaw clenched tight as she trims my beard. What’s left of it, anyway. The fire singed the ends. It hangs unevenly, off-kilter, like things have been since she walked into my life.
She insisted on being the one to prepare me for the wedding tonight.
