Page 1 of Possession

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FOREVER AND EVER, UNTIL DEATH

Landyn

Inever dreamed my life would be over at the age of twenty three.

I stare back at my empty, dead eyes in my reflection.

The white couture gown fits like a second skin. I don’t know how they managed it. I never laid eyes on the dress until thirty minutes ago, let alone tried it on or dealt with alterations. My makeup is heavy, but it looks like I’m barely wearing anything other than pink gloss on my lips. My hair is twisted into a complicated updo and whisps tickle my face. It’s youthful, perfectly imperfect, and appears effortless even though it took over an hour to create.

I’m a work of art.

A team charged into our suite hours ago to work their magic. I’ve never met any of them, and they didn’t ask what I wanted. In fact, they murmured amongst themselves in their native language about their project. They only spoke directly to me when giving me orders in English tosit up straight,turn, or, the most embarrassing of all,suck it in.

They didn’t care what I wanted. I guess it isn’t their fault. They had their orders.

Hisorders.

I look like a dream in the middle of a nightmare.

“Dennis, do something. Anything but this. You’re ruining our lives! It’s embarrassing. This is your last chance to fix it. Find another way to pay the debt. Work it off somehow. Do something—just not this. What will people think when she marries him?”

My father paces back and forth behind me in his smart black tux—in and out of the reflection like a pendulum. His strides are so violent, he’s sure to wear a path in the Persian rug. I can’t bear to turn and look him in the eyes. I haven’t been able to since that dreaded day.

When he stops, the room rumbles around his roar. “You think I have a choice? I fucking don’t! We’d be dead right now if I hadn’t given into his demand. Dead, Nellie. All of us!”

Dead.

And the thing is, I think he’s telling the truth.

“Damn you. I told you to stay away from the Marinos. They’re too dangerous—Damian especially. He’s evil, and you’re handing our daughter over to him on a golden platter!” Every muscle in my body tenses when Mom screams, “Look at what you’ve done!”

It was only five days ago that Dad sat Mom and me down and explained what happened.

How Dad fucked up in the worst way with his scariest associate.

I’ll never forget the moment. Dad sat there with his face in his hands, tension clouding his warm brown eyes as he admitted what he’d done.

A debt—one he can’t begin to repay even if he took out every possible loan and called in every favor and marker owed to him on the West Coast.

My father is not a small player, but he isn’t a big one either. Though, he was trying to be.

As normal a life as my parents pretend to live, it’s anything but. To most people who know us, Dennis Alba is a successful businessman, but I know how my father makes his money. Very little of his income that supports our lavish lifestyle comes from legal or legitimate ventures.

It feels like that dark day played out a lifetime ago—the day he looked me in the eyes and told me what was to happen so we didn’t all end up dead.

That I’d be the one who would ultimately pay the price for his fuck up.

I’d be the one to pay his debt.

And I’d do it with my own life.

I argued and refused. When it finally sunk in that there was no way I’d get out of this, I shed enough tears to rival an old woman who lived through more heartbreak than any one person deserves.

But as the days have dragged on bringing me to this moment, I’ve become numb.

I didn’t even have the chance to run. One moment my father was informing me of my demise, and the next, we were taken from our home in our up-scale neighborhood and brought here.

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