Chapter 9
Kennedy
I stepped into the bridal boutique, feeling the weight of the ring on my finger, a cold reminder of the choice I made.
Nick’s black Wraiths hoodie hung loosely over my leggings, a comfort that felt entirely out of place in this world of silk and lace.
The air thickened with whispers as I crossed the threshold, every eye in the room snapping to me like I was an unwelcome guest.
A woman near the entrance shot me a look that could slice through glass. Her phone buzzed against her palm, and I caught a glimpse of a headline: “Delgado’s Fiancée Caught in Scandalous Affair with Maddox.” My stomach churned at the words, each syllable echoing my worst fears.
I took a breath, trying to shake off the panic clawing at my throat. This wasn’t about them or their judgment; it was about me—my decision. Still, I felt small under their scrutiny, like I had walked into a lion’s den dressed as prey.
I hesitated at the threshold, every insecurity clawing at me. I wasn’t supposed to be that girl—the reckless one, the fallen one. The whispers grew louder, wrapping around me like a noose. What if they were right? What if I was just a pathetic reflection of my choices?
Nick stayed close behind me, his presence like steel against my back. He didn’t need to say anything for me to feel his energy, the way it thrummed with an intensity that dared me to move forward. I could sense the heat radiating from him, an electric current that urged me on.
He leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. “You walked into my world. Let them see you fucking own it.”
His words sent a rush of defiance through me, igniting something deep within. I straightened my spine, letting his confidence seep into my bones. With every heartbeat, I felt the weight of the ring on my finger shift, reminding me of the choice I had made.
The boutique's polished mirrors reflected not just my image but the ghost of who I used to be—an obedient daughter, a dutiful fiancée. But standing here in Nick’s hoodie and this unexpected role as his claimed bride, I caught a glimpse of someone else: a fighter who was ready to push back.
With each step deeper into this world that Nick had dragged me into, something inside me snapped into focus. No more hiding; no more pretending to be someone I wasn’t.
I glanced back at Nick, catching his gaze as he stood tall and unapologetic behind me. A small smirk played at the corners of his mouth—a promise that he would be there through it all.
The stylist ushered me to the back, her expression pinched like she’d just bitten into a lemon. The room was cluttered with silks and tulle, but her disdain for me cut through the air sharper than any fabric.
“We don’t usually do… last-minute elopements,” she said, glancing at my ring as if it were tarnished silver. “Especially not ones trending for the wrong reasons.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I forced a smile, pretending her words didn’t sting like barbed wire. I wanted to say something clever, something to cut back at her judgment, but the words stuck in my throat.
Nick, however, didn’t pretend. He stepped forward, slow and menacing, filling the doorway with his presence.
“Say that again,” he demanded, his voice low and calm but dripping with danger.
The stylist stammered under his gaze, her earlier confidence wilting like a flower deprived of sunlight. She tried to deflect, fumbling over her words as she attempted to maintain some semblance of professionalism.
“Uh—no offense intended! I just meant that—”
“She’s wearing that ring because I put it there,” he said. Nick didn’t raise his voice; he lowered it instead—a tone that promised retribution. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that could have burned through steel. “You have a problem with her? You have a problem with me.”
The air thickened with tension as I watched the stylist swallow hard. Her facade crumbled under Nick’s unwavering stare, and for a moment, I felt a rush of exhilaration mixed with embarrassment.
This was what it felt like to be seen—not as someone’s possession or the dutiful daughter—but as myself. Someone who had chosen this path against all odds.
I glanced at Nick and saw the fierce protectiveness in his eyes; it sent warmth coursing through me despite the weight of judgment hanging in the air.
“I’ll need you to get something appropriate for her,” he continued smoothly, not breaking eye contact with the stylist until she nodded frantically and backed away from us both.
The stylist paled under Nick’s unwavering gaze, her bravado evaporating like morning mist. Moments later, the manager rushed in, all smiles and apologies, practically tripping over herself to reassure me.
“Of course, ma’am! We can make this happen for you—whatever you need,” she said, her voice bright and overly sweet, a stark contrast to the tension that had just filled the room.
I stumbled into the fitting room, heart racing and breath shaky. But beneath the nerves thrummed a different kind of energy—a burn in my chest that wasn’t shame. It was power. For once, I felt like I could command my own space, my own destiny.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror and stared at my reflection.
The first dress I tried on was a soft ivory with delicate lace sleeves that seemed perfect at first glance.
But as I turned to see it from every angle, it felt too much like something borrowed from a fairy tale—a life I had never wanted.
The dress clung too tightly to my past, suffocating me rather than setting me free.
Next came a sleek red number with a plunging neckline that promised drama but only served to amplify my insecurities.
The color was bold; it demanded attention.
But when I looked in the mirror, all I saw was someone trying too hard to be noticed—an echo of who I used to be rather than who I was becoming.
With each passing moment and each dress discarded back onto the hanger, frustration bubbled within me.
A fitted black gown followed—a daring choice that hugged my curves and flared at the hem.
In theory, it should have made me feel fierce; instead, it felt like armor meant to hide behind rather than embrace who I was.
Finally, I slipped into a flowing pale white gown adorned with shimmering sequins that caught the light in dazzling patterns as I moved.
As I gazed at myself in this reflection—twinkling like stars against the night sky—I thought for a brief second it might be the one.
But when Nick’s image flickered through my mind again—his possessive gaze locking onto me as if claiming his prize—I realized it wasn’t quite right either.
Nothing fit quite right; nothing felt truly me. Each garment reminded me of expectations—of who others thought I should be—and none of them spoke to the wild fire awakening inside me now.
As I rifled through the racks, frustration twisted inside me. I didn’t want a dress that whispered of fairytales or an image of perfection that had never been mine. I wanted something that felt real, something that didn’t belong to the girl who was supposed to marry Delgado.
Then, like a beacon cutting through the haze of lace and fluff, I spotted it. A sleek, modern gown with clean lines and a sharp silhouette. It hung there in muted white fabric, minimalistic yet striking. No frills, no embellishments—just a design that promised strength.
I slipped into it, feeling the material glide over my skin like a second layer of confidence.
The bodice hugged me perfectly, tapering down to a flow that moved with every step.
When I looked in the mirror, the reflection staring back at me felt unfamiliar yet exhilarating.
This was not a dress for a debutante; this was armor for someone ready to confront her fate.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the fitting room. The air thickened as Nick looked up from where he stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The moment our eyes met, everything else faded into oblivion.
His gaze traveled over me—intense and unflinching—taking in every detail of my transformation. There was no trace of judgment or mockery in his expression; instead, it held something far more dangerous: possession.
“That's the one,” he said simply.
No compliments about beauty or grace; just certainty laced with authority. His voice held a gravity that anchored me in place while sending shivers down my spine. In those three words lay a promise—a declaration that I belonged to him now and that this dress would serve as a reminder of my choice.
In that moment, all the weight I had carried began to lift. This wasn’t just about finding an outfit; it was about shedding the remnants of who I had been and stepping into who I was meant to be—wild and free but tethered to Nick’s fierce determination.
I smiled softly at him, feeling an undeniable rush course through my veins as if we were both standing on the edge of something thrilling and new.
I stared at myself in the mirror; the reflection showing a woman I barely recognized.
The dress clung to my curves, flowing like water down my legs and pooling around my feet.
It felt alive, whispering secrets of rebellion against the expectations that had always shackled me.
My hand instinctively went to the ring on my finger—a band that felt heavy yet liberating all at once.
Behind me, Nick stood like a storm contained in human skin, his presence commanding and fierce. I could feel the heat radiating off him, an electric current that buzzed in the air between us. The tension crackled as he studied me with an intensity that set my pulse racing.
This wasn’t the life I planned, I thought as I turned slightly to meet his gaze. Yet in that moment of reflection, something shifted inside me. Maybe it was the one I needed.
The girl who had followed all the rules and played nice was fading away like a ghost—replaced by someone braver, more daring. A flicker of excitement surged through me at the thought. My heart pounded in rhythm with the newfound strength bubbling beneath my skin.
Nick’s eyes never left mine, an unspoken challenge lingering there.
He leaned against the wall with an ease that only amplified his intensity, arms crossed over his broad chest. There was a raw power in him, a promise of protection that enveloped me like a warm embrace even as it threatened to consume everything I thought I knew.
I turned back to face the mirror, lifting my chin slightly as if daring myself to own this moment fully. The gown hugged every curve just right; it felt like armor—a statement piece declaring that I would no longer be confined by anyone’s expectations.
“Damn,” Nick murmured from behind me, breaking the silence and pulling me from my thoughts. “You look incredible.”
His voice sent shivers down my spine—not because of flattery but because it carried weight. He meant it. There was no pretense or obligation; he simply saw me for who I was becoming.
A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. It felt foreign but good—like a sunbeam breaking through storm clouds after a long dark night.
I turned, my heart racing as I faced Nick.
“Can you help me unzip it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes darkened with something primal as he stepped closer. The air around us felt charged, thick with unspoken words and electric tension. I could almost hear the hum of our breaths mixing, a soft melody that played in sync with the thudding of my heart.
He reached for the zipper at the back of my gown, his fingers brushing against my skin as he slowly pulled it down. The sensation sent a shiver through me. I could feel his warmth radiating off him, and it made me acutely aware of every inch of my body that was suddenly exposed to him.
With each inch the zipper descended, his hands lingered on my skin—soft but deliberate—tracing the curve of my spine. The gentle pressure ignited a fire beneath my flesh, one I had never felt before. It was slow and sensual, like he was savoring the moment as much as I was.
My breath caught in my throat, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away—the judgmental whispers from earlier, the weight of expectations hanging over me like storm clouds. In this intimate bubble between us, there was only Nick and me.
The fabric slipped lower, revealing more skin to his touch. I held my breath as he paused at the base of the zipper, fingertips grazing over the exposed skin at my lower back—a tantalizing tease that made me want to lean into him.
“Fuck. Your back…” he murmured softly, his voice low and gravelly.
My pulse quickened; there was no turning back now. This moment felt like stepping off a ledge into uncharted territory—thrilling and terrifying all at once.
He finished unzipping the gown slowly and let it fall open slightly at my sides. The cool air brushed against my skin where fabric had just been.
I stepped into the dressing room, my heart still racing from Nick’s touch. The air felt charged, almost electric, as I pulled the door shut behind me. Alone in this small room, I leaned against the cool wall and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to process everything that had just happened.
The gown hung off my shoulders like a whisper of freedom.
I glanced in the mirror, taking in the reflection of a woman on the brink of something monumental.
The white fabric pooled around my feet. With shaky hands, I unzipped it further and let it slide down to the floor.
Carefully, I picked it up and put it on its hanger.
It was beautiful.
I almost didn't think I was worthy for it.
And yet…
I decided this dress would be what they saw when they looked at me—a declaration of independence against everything that had held me back for too long. A declaration of not only who I was going to be but who I was always supposed to be… now that I finally had the freedom to choose for myself.