Chapter 26
Aoife
The ballroom glitters like sin. Smiles painted on faces trained to lie. Cameras flash. Glasses clink. I stand beside Rory, my skin burning beneath the fabric.
My mother chose the dress, soft blue, long sleeves, neckline high enough to hide every scar her world ever left on me. “It brings out your innocence,” she said.
If only she knew there’s nothing left to bring out.
They dressed me like a bride, but all I feel is caged.
When Matteo left me behind the curtain, something in me cracked. The part that still believed I had a choice.
Now I stand stiff, arm locked through Rory’s as we’re announced.
Cheers. Applause. Whispers.
Messina eyes follow me across the room.
Matteo’s among them.
His stare crawls across my skin like heat under glass. I can’t tell if it’s rage or pain or the same hollow nothing sitting in my chest.
“Smile,” Rory whispers, his hand claiming the small of my back. “You’re mine now.”
I do. I lean in when the cameras flash. A perfect picture. A perfect lie.
Uncle Liam’s toast fills the room, legacy, alliance, empire and every time he says our bride, something inside me folds smaller.
When the speeches end, I slip away before the applause fades. Conor finds me in the corridor. His smile is practiced.
“You did good,” he says. “Don’t mess it up now.”
The words taste like poison. I want to spit them back, but I nod instead.
Screaming would only earn me another locked door, another man explaining who I’m supposed to be.
So, I go back. Sit beside Rory. Smile until my face aches.
I survive the rest of the night by going numb.
When I finally escape, the silence hits harder than the noise.
Matteo’s still there, in the back of my mind. His mouth. His hands. The way he looked at me like I was worth saving. He’s still under my skin. A bruise that won’t fade. A promise I never asked for.
Now the blue dress clings like punishment, the ring slicing my finger raw.
I’m reaching for the sink when the door opens.
No knock. No pause. Just Rory.
He shuts it behind him, slow, deliberate. “Thought we could celebrate properly,” he says.
My stomach drops. “No.”
“Don’t be like that.” He steps closer.
“I said no.”
His fingers dig into my arm. “We’re practically married.”
“Get off me.”
He doesn’t. He grins instead, empty, cruel and his hand cracks across my face.
The sound splits the room. My vision flashes white. Blood fills my mouth. “You’ll learn,” he says. “When it’s time.”
Then he walks out.
I lock the door with shaking hands and slide to the floor.
“I’m not yours,” I whisper. “I’ll never be yours.”
Outside, thunder rolls. I look up at the storm and wonder if Matteo feels it too.
I sit at the edge of my bed. The sting’s gone, but the heat under my ribs hasn’t cooled. It burns steady, like someone pressed a cigarette into my ribs and walked away.
They’re going to kill me.
And they’ll get away with it.
I crawl to the window and shove it open. The air hits hard, sharp as glass. The cliffs whisper below, same as always.
Matteo.
His name alone hurts. I see his face without trying. Feel his touch, the heat of it that refuses to fade.
I type fast:
You said you’d send me to the slaughterhouse if you kissed me again.
But you didn’t.
I’ve been living in it this whole time.
And the wolves aren’t the monsters.
The lambs are.
I don’t send it. I don’t even have his number.
I tug at the ring. It won’t budge. I twist harder.
I tighten my grip around the blade, knuckles aching, palm slick with sweat, the memory of his voice ghosting through my head as he once corrected my stance and warned me about hesitation.
The gold band fights back when the edge meets metal, resistance biting hard enough to make my wrist tremble, and the pressure sends a hot pulse straight through my hand and up my arm.
My teeth clamp down as the sound of strain fills the room, thin and ugly, and pain flares when the edge slips, sharp and unforgiving, slicing skin along with gold.
A gasp tears out of my chest as blood wells fast, thick and bright, spilling over my finger and smearing across the sink, staining porcelain and dulling the shine of the ring in the same breath.
My vision blurs but I do not stop, fingers shaking as the blade drags again, the effort burning through muscle and bone, every second stretching longer than the last. The pain grounds me, anchors me, reminds me why this matters.
Good. Let the gold remember me like this.
My breathing turns ragged as I stare at the red streaks pooling below, heart hammering hard enough to hurt. “I will die before they set the date,” I whisper, the vow scraping raw on the way out.
The next time I stand on that cliff, my eyes will not search the horizon.
The sea will not wait below.
The fall will take me whole.
The morning light doesn’t feel warm. Doesn’t even feel like light.
Classes are over. The corridors are almost empty, laughter echoing from somewhere.
My hand drags along the cold stone. I need to feel something.
Footsteps behind me, steady, hard. Conor.
I keep walking until his hand clamps around my arm.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“You finally noticed?”
His jaw tightens. “The family’s not happy. Rory said—”
“Did he tell you he tried to force himself on me?” My voice cracks, too loud in the quiet hall.
Conor freezes. Just for a heartbeat, then the mask returns.
“That’s not what they said.”
“You believe them?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. You have a job, Aoife. One job.”
My throat burns. “A job? You mean marry him. Let him touch me. Let him own me?”
He looks away.
“I’m your blood,” I say. “I stood beside you every time Uncle Liam turned violent. I covered for you, and now you tell me it doesn’t matter?”
He flinches then hides it. “You do what’s asked. That’s how it’s always been.”
I stare at him, every breath sharp as glass. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“It’s bigger than you.”
“No,” I say, voice shaking.
He doesn’t stop me when I walk away. Somehow, that’s worse than hate.
I don’t remember climbing to the roof, it’s where my feet took me. Even my subconscious is telling me this is where it ends.
The night air cuts clean through me.
The sea rages below, wild and familiar.
Each step toward the edge feels lighter, easier.
A voice inside me whispers, You’re not meant to survive this.
Maybe it’s right.
What’s the point? No one listens. No one cares. I’m a contract, not a person.
The wind roars. My toes find the stone’s edge. The sea claws at the rocks. Always angry. Always alive.
Maybe that’s why I love it. It never pretends to be calm.
The stars above are dull, too tired to shine for me.
I’m done pretending.
Done smiling through the pain.
Done being quiet.
The blade Matteo once steadied in my hand gleams faintly in the dark. The only thing that ever made me feel in control.
I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
My phone buzzes.
Unknown.
You on the roof tonight?
My chest tightens. Eyes blur the screen.
It would be easier if he hadn’t asked. If no one cared.
But he did.
I open my notes and copy the words I wrote for him.
Aoife
You said you’d send me to the slaughterhouse if you kissed me again.
But you didn’t.
I’ve been living in it this whole time.
And the wolves aren’t the monsters.
The lambs are.
His reply comes fast.
Matteo
What are you doing, little lamb?
My breath shudders out. My fingers hover over the screen.
Then I type.
Aoife
You told me to let you know when I’ll jump.
I hit send.
The wind screams across the cliffs. The sea waits below.
And for a moment, it feels like the whole world is holding its breath.