Epilogue
Aro
I wake to the taste of blood in my mouth and the sharp bite of zip ties around my wrists. My arms are numb, secured to the arms of what feels like a cold steel chair. My legs, too. Ankles bound, body aching.
The air is thick and damp. It smells like mold and rust. As if time passed through here and forgot to leave. My head throbs, deep and pulsing, like it’s echoing someone else’s heartbeat.
I will my eyes to open. Blinking against the dark, I see concrete walls. One flickering light overhead. A single drain in the center of the stained floor.
I try to remember what happened.
The wedding. Sean. The gunshot.
Everything comes rushing back in jagged flashes—his blood, his body falling, the sting of something pressed to my face, then blackness.
I turn my neck slowly and carefully, trying not to aggravate my head.
And I freeze.
Johnny’s next to me. Also tied to a chair. Head lolled to the side, a bruise already blooming along his jaw. His dress shirt is torn, blood crusted near his temple.
What the hell?
I stare at him, heart pounding in my throat.
He wasn’t with me. He wasn’t anywhere near the dressing room when I was taken. So how? Did they grab him later? Did he come after me and get caught?
I don’t know, and it terrifies me more than I want to admit. Because if Johnny’s here… if Johnny got caught… then this is worse than I thought. So much worse.
I test the zip ties again. They bite into my skin, but I don't stop. Pain is good. Pain means I’m still alive. Still in this fight.
“Johnny,” I rasp.
Nothing.
“Johnny, wake up.”
He stirs, groaning low. Then coughs, head jerking up like it weighs a hundred pounds. His eyes meet mine. They’re dazed, bloodshot.
“Honey?” His voice is rough. Raw. “You okay?”
“No,” I whisper. “Are you?”
He gives me half a shrug before slumping back. Clearly not great, but, he’s alive.
I close my eyes for half a second and breathe, even though everything in me wants to scream. Because fuck this. Fuck Joe. Fuck every man who thought they could break me just because they got a head start.
I’m done being bait.
I’m done being a pawn in someone else’s war.
I will kill Joe.
Not for vengeance. Not for drama. But for the simple fact that he’ll never stop unless I stop him first.
And Johnny? He’s getting out of here with me. Even if I have to drag his unconscious ass through hell to do it. I don’t care what we’ve been through. What he’s done. He’s still mine. And we are not dying in this basement.
This is not how our story ends.
I hear it then. Footsteps heading our way. Slow and deliberate.
I brace myself. This is it. The final act. Joe’s gonna come through that door with a grin and a gun and some twisted-ass monologue he’s been rehearsing for years. And I’ll smile, spit in his face, and start figuring out how to rip out his throat with my teeth if I have to.
The door creaks open, and I lift my head.
But it’s not Joe who steps through the threshold… it’s Marcus.
Wearing a designer coat like this is just another business meeting and not a dungeon. He looks at me with that same infuriating calm he’s always worn. Like the world is a chessboard and he’s still ten moves ahead.
I blink, stunned. “What the hell…”
Marcus smiles. “Did you miss me, babe?”
And just like that, I know.
This isn’t over.
Not even close.
TO BE CONTINUED...