Page 274 of His To Erase
He doesn’t deserve to see me shake. He doesn’t get the satisfaction of watching me fall apart. My body is vibrating with adrenaline, and a fear I refuse to name. My knees want to give out but I won’t let them. So I hold still, staring him down.
“Sit,” he says.
My feet stay planted, and every muscle in my body feels like it’s waiting to snap. “What, no aisle? No music? You couldn’t even spring for a flower girl?”
His jaw clenches and I can see the crack in his mask.
“I said sit.”
“And I said no.”
If I’m going down, it’s going to be with a fight.
The man at the table—the priest, officiant, or whatever kind of legal parasite he is—finally looks up. His eyes flick between us, like he’s just now realizing the bride might not be a willing participant. But does he say a word? No, of course not. He just blinks and waits, like paperwork matters more than consent.
If he signs that paper knowing what this is, he’s just another coward cashing in on silence.
I smile, but there’s no warmth in it. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your hostage ceremony. I just have a couple questions before we start.”
Frank’s nostrils flare with barely contained rage, dressed up in cufflinks and cologne, but I ignore him and take a single step to the left.
“First question,” I say, keeping my tone steady, “does this become legally binding before or after you threaten to kill me if I say no?”
He sets the glass down, carefully eyeing me. He knows I’m up to something, I’m sure, but he makes no move to stop me. Yet.
“Second question,” I continue, “should we ask him?” I nod toward the suited man. “Are you planning to lie for him? Sign off on a forced marriage and pretend it’s consent?”
The man pales. His hand trembles just enough to make the pen twitch over the paper, looking between the two of us.
Frank takes one step toward me, but this time I don’t flinch. I hold his stare, keeping my spine locked. I know what’s coming. I must’ve always known, otherwise I wouldn’t have run to Denver in the first place. But I’m done pretending.
This is a transaction signed in flesh and blood, and I’m the currency.
The silence stretches, letting the weight of it press into the walls until even the priest starts to squirm.
“Better get your money’s worth, Frankie,” I bite out. My voice is shaking with something that might be fear—or maybe it’s just rage that finally found an edge sharp enough to cut. “Because once I sign that paper, you won’t need me anymore. You’ll get your empire. Your power. Your ego jerked off in ink.”
His eye twitches.
“But let’s not pretend you want a wife,” I say, dropping my voice lower. “You want a puppet. And not even a willing one.”
He moves so fast, I don’t see him moving before the sound of his hand cracks across my face echoing like gunfire. My head whips sideways, and the floor rushes up before I can catch myself. My body hits the ground hard enough to make everything go quiet.
The taste of blood floods my mouth, and everything goes blurry for a second—long enough to register the priest frozen in place, looking between us.
I press my palms to the floor and shove myself upright, biting down on a gasp as the pain flares through my cheekbone. My lip’s split, and I can taste blood, but I’m still breathing. Maybe if I push him just a little further, piss him off enough, he’ll throw me back in that room and stall whatever sick plan he has for another day. The pain’s worth it if it buys me time. If it gets me one inch closer to surviving this, I’ll do it.
Frank moves so he’s standing over me, breathing hard. His face isn’t smug anymore—it’s feral.
“You fucking bitch,” he hisses.
I laugh—barely, because honestly, everything fucking hurts. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck and then punted off a cliff for good measure. My body’s screaming at me to shut up and survive, but instead, I lift my chin. Blood’s in my mouth, and I spit it right between us—because, you know…
“Still think you’re man enough to keep me?”
That’s when he snaps. The second hit doesn’t come from his hand, it comes from his boot. And it goes straight into my ribs.
Agony explodes through me, and it’s brutal and all-consuming. I can’t breathe. I collapse onto my side, choking on air that won’t come.
