Chapter 9
TALIN
There are so many eyes.
That’s all I keep thinking: look at all those eyes.
Big ones, small ones, dark and light ones, some eyes lined with black and others sallow and weird. Some eyes are missing: those don’t bother me all that much though. I’m used to seeing injured men.
The eyes don’t turn away. They stare at me, some leaking water, others blinking disconcertingly slow, but so many of them, thousands of eyes all connected back to brains, to living organisms, to breathing human beings most of which I don’t recognize.
Strangers watching more strangers say some magic words to make us—what, trapped together forever?
Too many eyes judging, all those eyes thinking they know what’s best, thinking they know me at all.
Like if I do the wrong thing, say the wrong words, move my body in a way that those eyes don’t like, I’ll become the wrong thing myself, and I hate that.
I want to shrink away. It’s what I’ve always done.
Usually, it’s so easy to disappear in my house, a place built for nine siblings but only keeping four now, and with Annie to always cast her long shadow.
There she is now, my pretty sister, looking angelic, but today the eyes are for me.
I’m the one in the big white dress.
I hate Annie so much. I also love her. Because I look incredible, thanks to her fantastic taste, but that also means the eyes won’t look away.
“Breathe, Tallie.” Brenden’s voice. His hands grip mine, his fingers hard and calloused. Those are hands of a man who uses them. I hadn’t noticed the first time we met, but now I focus on the details, on the clipped nails and the scarred knuckles. “You’re swaying.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Breathe. Come on, with me. In for three… out for three…”
I fall into this rhythm. The priest keeps going, oblivious, his voice magnified over the PA system like the booming noise of God himself. Brenden talks me down, and I don’t know how he does it, with all these eyes in the room. Only Annie’s ever been able to bring me back after I’ve gone this far.
But Brenden’s steady. He’s patient and calm. I find myself clinging to his strength and breathing, just breathing, over and over, until it’s my turn to say the vows.
It’s not so far. I repeat the words. Not even that loud. I doubt the people in the back can hear. Screw them—they should’ve gotten better seats.
“By the power vested in me by the Lord our God and the state of Maryland, I present to you all the happy couple. You may kiss the bride.”
Brenden’s arms wrap around me. He hugs me close, mouth burying mine, but it’s chaste and short, not what I always dreamed of my big wedding kiss. What surprises me though is his voice, his mouth near my ear. “You’re okay,” he says. “I still got you. Keep breathing.”
Then we’re walking together down the aisle, there’s clapping, happy faces, people I know and don’t know, and my siblings.
Almost all of them too. Hovik, the oldest, a mirror of my father; Vartan, brooding and terrifying; Gor, the violent one, grinning at me and blowing a kiss; Sam and Davit sitting together, Davit crying like a baby, Sam looking bored.
I wish Miriam and Tate were here, but they’re gone and won’t let themselves come back.
“Almost done,” Brenden says as I’m steered toward a back door. “You going to puke?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“You sure? You looked bad.”
“I’m fine.’
“You’re still pale.”
“I said I’m fine.” I elbow him but there’s no anger or force behind it. I lean into his side. “And thank you.”
“We’re in this together now, Tallie.”
I almost believe him. That’s the sick part. But what’s Brenden if not a very good liar? He’s a thief, and that’s what thieves do. They create versions of the world, they spin stories and emotions until they get what they want, and then they leave.
Can I actually trust my husband? Can I ever find him again now that he’s got all those layers of armor burying him once more?
The reception is at the Sarkissian mansion.
I’m paraded around the guests and to my frank astonishment, Brenden doesn’t stray from my side.
I keep waiting for him to disappear, to get pulled off to do whatever it is he does, but no.
Brenden remains, a looming, towering comfort.
Every time a conversation drags on too long, he finds an excuse.
I’m never trapped, although now I am, every single second of every day.
Even Annie seems surprised, and by the time I’m in the back of a black car with her, she shifts closer and leans her head on my shoulder.
“He did good back there,” she says casually, slipping her fingers into mine.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you were going to puke.”
“Why do people keep saying that?!”
“You were green.”
“I was not!”
“Green,” she repeats, shaking with laughter. “But Brenden stepped up. I thought I was going to have to do it, but nope. I’m kind of impressed.”
“He was fine. And I wasn’t going to puke.” I look out the window as we pull down the mansion driveway. “I was probably going to faint though.”
The guests gather outside several lavish tents set up in the enormous back garden.
Fans whirr, cooling the stuffy spaces, and staff wander with passing trays heaped with food and drink.
Hundreds of Baltimore’s most important people gorge themselves.
Politicians, business leaders, generic rich assholes.
Some I recognize, most I’ve never seen before.
The Sarkissian family is all there, which is nice.
I like that my oldest siblings showed up.
Hovik hugs me awkwardly, Vartan pats my head like a dog.
At least Davit throws his arms around me and cries into my chest. “That was so beautiful!” he wails while Sam rolls his eyes and mimes cutting Davit’s throat.
It’s a lot. Annie gets me champagne. That helps, but I’m still overwhelmed, and it takes a while to realize Brenden’s nowhere to be seen. Which shouldn’t surprise me. His performance at the church was the outlier. This is more like him, flakey and prone and fading away, but now it pisses me off.
I know he can do better, but he’s choosing not to.
“Hold this,” I say to Annie after a half hour of mingling.
“Wait, the speeches are soon.”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“Seriously Tallie, I have this whole thing. Power Point, like twenty minutes of great material—“
“God, I love you Annie and I wouldn’t miss it for the world, but I need to pee so bad my bladder’s going to explode.”
“Fine! Just hurry back!”
I slip through the crowd, stopped a few times to say hello to guests I’ve missed, before finding my way into the cool evening, in the space between the tents. He wouldn’t be out here though: that’s not my husband’s style.
I go straight for the house. The one place nobody’s supposed to go.
That’s exactly where he’ll be.
I don’t know what it is with this man and trouble, but it’s like Brenden can’t help himself.
Whenever there’s somewhere he’s not supposed to be, that’s exactly where he wants to go.
Maybe it’s the thief in him. Ever since we got engaged, I’ve been digging as much as I’ve been able to. It’s not like there’s information lying around on the internet about him, so I’ve been reliant on what I’ve been able to get out of the people around me.
Dad said nothing. Mom knew nothing and acted like I was being dramatic even asking about him.
I pressed my older sister Tate over the phone but she insisted she didn’t know anything, which is plausible since she was never in the life much to begin with.
I considered trying Gor, but he’s not exactly the most reliable person in the world, and so that left me with only three options.
Annie, Sam, and Davit.
I tried my youngest brother first, but Davit didn’t know anything useful. He told me that he’d heard the McGraths were a serious group and had some real power in the region, but past that he didn’t know much. He offered to ask Riley, but I figured that would only make it obvious I was prying.
I got more out of Annie. She said the McGraths had a reputation for brutality, but that they were also considered very fair.
How the hell she knew that beat me to death with the stick, but whatever.
She also claimed they’re the most powerful Irish clan on the east coast without any proof to back it up.
Sam was by far the best and worst source of them all.
He went on and on about the McGraths, about some crazy pair of brothers called the Murder Twins, about some psycho named Seamus, a dozen other characters that weren’t at all relevant to my question.
The picture he painted was that of a ruthless, power-mad organization driven to do almost anything to keep their iron grip over their territory.
So basically like my family’s Brotherhood.
But at least he talked more about Brenden.
He claimed my future husband—or I guess just husband now, which is really freaky—is one of the best thieves in the region, rivalled only by his sister Riley, which is hard to imagine.
He said Brenden got into some trouble and is considered low-status these days, and Sam implied that said a lot about how I’m viewed in the greater family orbit.
I smacked him for that one. But he also said Brenden’s generally considered a mystery, not outright dangerous and aggressive, but nonetheless very skilled.
I’m not sure how to feel about any of it as I drift into the mansion and pause to get my bearings. If I were hiding from a wedding, where would I go? I decide to wander since I have no real idea where Brenden would be. Instead, I try to make sense of everything I know.