Chapter 11 – Wren
This wasn’t a wedding.
No.
It was more like a funeral.
We were gathered here—the domestic staff and a few of Val’s men—not to witness a union, but to mourn the death of a life once filled with love and promise. My life.
I was dressed in a black silk lace, elegant but suffocating—literally and figuratively. The fabric clung to my skin in a way that revealed my curves and contours, my black heels lifting me inches above the ground.
No decorations, no flowers, no music. Nothing. Just an abandoned drawing room, swept clean for the occasion. Our guests were a handful of Val’s workers with flat expressions and a priest whose eyes were too hollow to meet mine.
The room was dimly lit by the rays from the sun peeking through the broken glass window. The walls were damp, covered with crawling vines and algae. The air was stale, carrying the stench of mildew that clung to the walls.
I was suffocating, and it felt as though oxygen itself had abandoned this place. Dust floated lazily in the shafts, swirling like smoke over a grave. The room was empty and hollow, and the silence was so loud it made my skin crawl.
My heart sank into my stomach, and I struggled to breathe. My eyes were empty, and my face was as blank as a sheet of paper. What was meant to be a celebration turned out to be the burial of everything I once dreamed of—a career, love, and a good home.
Thanks to Val, they were all nothing but ash now.
Everything happened so fast, and it hurt so badly that I’d come this far, only to end up like this—the bride of a ruthless monster who couldn’t even afford to be on time for his own “wedding.”
I stood at the makeshift altar, alone, too numb to feel anything. I’d cried my eyes out the whole night, wondering why I was so unfortunate. I felt so abandoned, so unlucky, and so useless.
The groom was running late, and the guests—however few—were starting to murmur amongst themselves. I should be ashamed to be marrying a man who couldn’t make it on time to his wedding in his own house.
At this point, nothing was going to surprise me anymore; these people had shown me the worst of the worst already. A part of me didn’t even want him to show up. I wished he’d just abandon me here and later send me out of his house. Or better still, put a bullet in my skull.
At least, ending my life would put me out of this misery.
The doors parted open, and he walked in, dressed in a black tux over a black undershirt. His outfit was as all black, as though he, too, were mourning. He wore his signature unreadable expression, his polished shoes scuffing against the floor as he approached me.
Val stood before me, his steel gray eyes boring into mine as the priest began the ceremony. I wasn’t paying attention. I couldn’t bring myself to do so with all the million thoughts tugging at my mind.
My tear glands were strained, my heart shattered into pieces, but I wouldn’t let these people see me cry. No. They didn’t deserve to see my tears; none of them did. It took everything in me to hold back my emotions, and the more I fought, the more painful it became.
Just like that, my life was over.
Funny how the one thing I loved the most turned out to be the exact thing that ruined me. Photojournalism. Ironic, isn’t it?
Maybe if I hadn’t taken that damn photo, my life wouldn’t have been so messed up. If someone had told me months ago that a single photograph could alter the course of my life and land me in so much trouble, I never would’ve believed them.
But here I was, standing before a monster, ready to sign my life away. He claimed he was marrying me so that he could save my life, so he could save me from the wolves that wanted me dead.
However, the million-dollar question still remained: Who would save me from him?
This man stole my freedom, stole my future, and stole my life. Yet, in his book, he was the hero who saved the damsel in distress. What a joke! I’d always blame him for all the bad things that had happened to me so far. It was his fault.
If he hadn’t kidnapped or at least let me go after he realized that I was innocent, none of this would’ve happened. I would have returned quietly to my boring life, minding my own goddamn business. I hadn’t seen any of their faces then, so it shouldn’t have been such a big deal.
He could have just given me a strict warning. But no, he chose to keep me in this hellhole to prove he had to do it. Locking me up here put my life at risk, and even now, I still don’t know if I was the real target during that attack.
Now, he thought making me his wife was the best form of damage control. How delusional could a man be?
“Do you, Wren Maddox…” the priest’s voice cut through my thoughts like a knife, “…take this man, Valarian Tarasov, to be your lawfully wedded husband…?”
My heart sank deeper into my chest, my eyes flicking up to face him. What if I said no? What would happen to me? Would he kill me himself for embarrassing him in front of his staff? Would he feed me to his hounds? What exactly was he going to do?
Uh…I honestly don’t think we wanna find out. So do not do anything. Stop, Wren Maddox, said that voice of fear.
It’s quite unfortunate what’s happening right now. But saying no would make things worse. Make the right choice here, Wren, said the other voice.
Being a Tarasov wife might not be half as bad as you think. The man’s powerful, wealthy—not to mention…hot. If there’s one good thing that could come out of this union, it would be time. Enough time to strategize and come up with either of these two: an escape plan or an adaptation plan.
For the first time, that voice of fear had a valid point.
I got lost in my head that it took the conspicuous clearing of the priest’s throat to get my attention. Snapping back to the present, I realized all eyes were on me, waiting for my response.
My gaze met with Val’s, and after a moment of hesitation, I answered, “I do.”
The priest turned and faced Val, repeating the same vows to him. His response was sharp and immediate.
“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
And that was it. That was how I officially became my kidnapper’s wife. What an unexpected turn of events.
No kiss to seal the marriage. No rings were exchanged. No celebration. Just a scattered round of applause from people with flat expressions on their faces.
This was the worst wedding ever!
Val signed a document, and I did too, sealing the fate I never chose with black ink. He lingered for a moment, but didn’t say a word, even though his gaze was pinned on me. My head was bowed to hide the tears stinging my eyes and the pain etched on my face.
One by one, the guests left the room in silence. And shortly after the priest stepped out the door, Val did the same, leaving me all by myself.
Alone at the makeshift altar, I let the tears flow. My hand flew to my chest, and I sank to my knees as I cried like a child. I wished that the ground would open up and swallow me whole. My heart ached, my pulse raced, and uncontrollable tears streamed down my cheeks.
I’d never felt so much pain before, and the worst part was that I was going through all this alone. I had no one to talk to. No one to console me.
It hurt.
It hurt so much that I could barely breathe. This was not how I planned my life; it wasn’t the future I envisioned for myself. But I guess this was my reality now.
Crying wouldn’t solve anything, nor would blaming Val. Life had decided my fate, and now it was up to me to either accept it or not.
Cry it all out tonight, Wren. Shed all those tears, and embrace the pain until it no longer hurts. And when you’re healed…we’ll start planning.
I wasn’t sure what voice that was, but it was right, and I intended to do just that.