Page 2 of It Shouldn't Be You
Cora, because she’s my sister in every way except blood. We’ve been through thick and thin since we met ten years ago,and I couldn’t imagine doing this without her by my side every step of the way.
While Lily might be a new addition, adding her to our twosome and making it a threesome was as natural as breathing. There’s no one more in need of guidance and support than the curvy brunette, and I’m nothing if not a fixer. Over the past year as she graduated from St Theresa’s and started coming around more and more to the different parties and events her stepfather, Ciaran O’Malley, was invited to, something about the lost look in her hazel eyes and her reckless behaviour called to me.
I took her under my wing, and the more I got to know her, the more I realised she fitted in with me and Cora perfectly. Sassy, strong, and with a dirtier mind than I could ever have dreamt of having at nineteen. She’s the missing piece we didn’t even know we needed. And she couldn’t have come into our lives at a better time.
Despite my best efforts to prepare her, Cora was trying to pretend I wasn’t about to be shipped off to God knows where. Knowing they will have each other helps ease some of my guilt at having to leave them both with no idea when or how often I’ll be able to visit.
Rounding out my bridal party is, of course, Mum. My best friend, rock and protector rolled into one. In no world would I do this without her here. She’s been a tearful mess most of the morning.
After months of failed attempts to meet my husband-to-be, I’d begged Dad to tell me who I was marrying. Hell, I’d even have settled for knowing what mafia fraction he belonged to. But he had refused despite our silent treatment.
I wonder who I got my stubborn streak from.
Any time either of us brought it up he would shut the conversation down in an instant, citing that if my soon-to-be husband harmed so much as a hair on my head I’d find myself back home, fuck the consequences. And sure, the knowledge that someone would get me out if things went south was somewhat reassuring, his refusal to tell me who I was marrying or where I was moving had my guard up. Big time. So, we came to a compromise—I would go into this blind under a few conditions.
One, I get to attend Cora’s wedding and be here for all my bridesmaid duties.
Two, a guard of my choice would come with me and act as my personal guard for the first year of this marriage.
Three, I would be given the freedom to pursue some form of job or volunteer work to keep myself busy.
Both Jonathan and my dad had thought it best to lay out these termsafterthe wedding and the thought of having the upper hand, no matter how briefly, had me agreeing without question.
“You look stunning, Abbie girl. Your father and I are so proud of the woman you’ve become.” Mum wipes at her tears as she helps fix my black veil in place with a kiss on my cheek, bathing me in her floral perfume.
“He’s going to freak out when he sees this dress,” I say with a watery laugh before a knock on the door breaks our moment. Dad’s eyes meet mine in the mirror. His dark hair is neatly styled, his tie and handkerchief match Mum’s dress perfectly, and as he takes me in, his face says it all.
“Abigail…you look beautiful,” he rasps as he approaches me, pulling me in for a hug. Holding me tight as if he can squeezeme back into my childhood. “But what in sweet hell were you thinking choosing a black dress?”
“What can I say, this is as much a funeral as it is a wedding.”
A chuckle escapes him at my bluntness, and with a fond shake of his head, he pulls back to look at me before continuing, “He won’t know what hit him when he sees you, and if he doesn't treat you like the princess you are, all you have to do is call and I will come to put him in place, understood?”
“I guess it’s time to get married,” I say on a shaky exhale, blinking back my tears.
Linking my arm through Dad’s and grabbing my bouquet, we descend the winding staircase. Each step feels eternal and fleeting. It feels like a funeral procession. Even the beauty of the venue can’t distract me from the foreboding feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I’d always dreamed of having an outdoor wedding. Having beautiful flower arrangements and archways. Like a fairy-tale. Having this thing planned for Septemberalmostthreatened to throw a wrench in that, but the weather behaved itself to allow at least one part of this day to go how I’d always dreamed of.
We have created a spring-like ambiance with a mix of real and synthetic flowers, adjusting for what is in season. The rose bush wall at the altar will be a photographic highlight. Lily, Cora, and I planned each element, and I couldn’t be prouder of what we accomplished.
With a comforting squeeze to my arm, Dad leads us out the double doors and under the floral archway, along the carpeted path that’s littered with flower petals. But the man at the end of the aisle captures all my attention. He’s massively tall, his dirty blonde hair neatly braided, muscles bulging underneath his suit, tattoos peeking from under his cuffs and collar.
He’s everything I shouldn’t want, and coupled with his red flag behaviour, I should be plotting my way out of here. Yet, as he cocks an eyebrow at me in a silent challenge, a thrill of anticipation courses through me.
Game fucking on.
Chapter 1
As I stand at the altar, waiting to meet my soon-to-be bride, a tidal wave of emotions rages inside me—unease at the unknown, anticipation for the inevitable fallout, and excitement about finally meeting Abigail.
The fact I’m surrounded by Four Points men sends chills down my spine, and my hand twitches to hold my gun. Being disarmed, while expected, never sits well with me.
When Peter, my second-in-command and uncle, heard I hadn’t flinched at the request to have the wedding in the heart of London, also known as Four Points territory and out of the Clan’s control, he launched into a rant about the dangers and what kind of message it would send. I ground my molars to stay calm.
Today’s Abigail’s last day with the Four Points. Last day in her home, surrounded by people she loves and trusts. After today, she will uproot her entire life to join me in the highlands of Glasgow. Having the wedding on her home turf is hardly a big request in comparison.
However, standing here, feeling eyes drilling holes into me from every direction, has my fingers twitching. I wonder if anyone would notice if I pulled out my trusty switchblade from my boot.
