Page 7 of Possession

All eyes are locked on me. I can’t make myself move as my husband-to-be’s leering eyes rake over me in the flesh for the first time.

He doesn’t look happy.

Well, buddy, the feeling is mutual.

I’ve never been less happy than I am at this moment.

The music continues to vibrate up my spine, looping the overture for at least the third time as the church waits for me to make a move.

“¡Vamos, muévete!” I glance to my side where an older woman is standing in her best funeral garb motioning for me to get on with it.

I look back down the aisle and force a Jimmy Choo forward.

One step.

Then another.

The closer I get to Damian, the darker his sneer becomes. My heart sprints, and my desire to turn around and run for the ocean grows. I’d rather be swallowed by a real undercurrent than the one who’s about to suck the life out of me forever and ever, ‘til death do us part.

I’m over halfway to the altar and feel every curious eye in the place glued to me. There’s no way I can make it another step if I look at Damian, so I allow my eyes to wander…

The priest … I wonder how much he was paid to care that I’m not Catholic?

My maid of honor … who is she?

My mom … she’s still crying.

And then, Boz.

His expression is void of emotion as he stares at me. My mouth feels like cotton, and my eyes sting with unshed tears, but Boz never breaks his stare when he brings a hand to his face to drag a thumb across his full bottom lip.

It occurs to me as I walk toward the short, round, horrendous man I’m about to marry, that Boz is hot. Literally a beauty of a man.

Someone clears their throat. My gaze shoots to Damian.

Shit. He’s angry.

Three pews separate us.

I swallow hard and shift my focus to the marble at my feet.

That’s when it happens.

The organ screeches to a halt.

For a mere moment, the church goes weirdly still.

Then … shots.

Gunshots.

The acoustics in the old structure go haywire. Not just gunfire this time—it’s a barrage.

Commotion breaks through the congregation.

The sea of black undulates as a whole. It begins with confusion that morphs into screams and bellows and a tidal wave of running.

Some drop to the floor. Dad is pulling Mom by the arm, his eyes ablaze with panic as he searches for cover.

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