Page 4 of Captive Bride

I don’t want to have to wear a fucking mask.

What am I, a girl? Is this Halloween?

“Are you serious?” I ask.

He laughs and says, “Yes, we’re gonna have to stop by a damn costume store or something.”

“Fine.”

We leave Club Vapor, and as I walk through the throes of people, everyone looks my way. They know who I am.

Tristan Montague.

This is the hottest underground club in town. It’s dark and chic, and if you want to let loose and engage in a degeneracy, this is the place for you.

We cut through the crowd and heads turn.

I don’t mind. They know who I am, and they know not to mess with me.

We go outside to my waiting limousine, get in, and go back home to change into our tuxedos. It’s just that kind of affair I can tell already.

And it’s gonna be a wild fucking night. I can tell that, too. It’s in the air.

In the back of my mind, I’m thinking about the girl.

Isobel Capulet.

I’ve heard about her over and over again. She’s been a virtual prisoner inside the Capulet fortress. They don’t let her out of there for even a second.

Barely anybody has seen her, only heard of her.

I wonder what she’s like.

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