Page 131 of Captive Bride

Isobel

Blows strike the door in quick succession.

Bone-rattling booms echo around the room like war drums.

Tears flow freely from my eyes.

This is it.

This is how we die.

Tristan pulls himself out of me with an agonizing feeling.

The void of our separation feels like death.

“Tristan...” I whisper frantically, grabbing for his hand.

He clutches my fingers tightly, leaning in for one final kiss.

“I love you,” he says, resting his forehead against mine.

The door gives way with a deafening crash, solid wood falling to the floor with unbelievable force.

I close my eyes tightly, my only hope now being that death is quick. Tears squeeze from my pinched eyelids.

A moment passes.

Another.

“Well,” a voice says. “Isn’t that sweet.”

I cling to it like a lifeline. I know that voice.

“Merc!” Tristan shouts, voice heavy with relief.

My eyes fly open, breath catching in my throat. Abandoned hope sputters to life within me.

“Benny!”

They stand in the doorway, angels of salvation disguised as bruised and bloodied mobsters. Tristan and I leap from the bed as one, smiles of pure joy lighting our faces.

Merc laughs as his eyes trail the length of us.

I lower my gaze as well, realization dawning.

Fuck, I’m naked.

I move my hands to cover myself, pointless of course, but it feels fitting in this situation.

Tristan doesn’t bother.

“Your dress?” he asks, eyes skimming the floor.

I see it across the room, what’s left of it anyway. Delicate lace lies in tatters, Tristan’s handwork.

“Oh, right,” he says, eyes following mine.

“Where’s the one I came in?” I ask, already making my way quickly to the Governor’s closet.

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