Chapter 38
SIERRA
The morning of my wedding, chaos reigns supreme.
My parents’ house has transformed into a war zone of garment bags and hair products and relatives who apparently forgot how to use their inside voices.
Everyone came over last night for a family meal and game night, and most of them went home afterward. But they’re all right back here first thing this morning, armed with tuxedos and makeup brushes and enough hairspray to put a hole in the ozone layer.
My mom has been crying on and off since I woke up, dabbing at her eyes every time she looks at me.
My dad can’t find one of his dress socks and keeps wandering through the living room muttering about it.
Sarah has morning sickness again and is camped out near the bathroom just in case, while Greg hovers nearby looking helpless and slightly green himself.
Another pin is jabbed into my scalp.
“Hold still, sweetie,” my mom says, working a curl into place. “Almost done.”
Easier said than done, when my nerves are wound so tight I can barely breathe. In a few hours, I’ll be married. To Matteo. My stomach does a weird little flip—the good kind, for once. This is actually happening.
The curls take forever. Then comes the makeup, layer by layer. Finally, my mom helps me into the dress. The fabric whispers against my skin as she zips up the back, and when I turn to face the full-length mirror, my breath catches.
I look like a bride. An actual bride.
“Oh, honey.” Mom’s voice cracks. She presses a hand to her mouth, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.
“Mom, please. You’re going to make me ruin my mascara.”
She laughs, but it comes out watery. “You’re just so beautiful. I can’t help it.”
Downstairs, I hear Uncle James arriving with donuts and coffee. Dad’s voice carries through the house, complaining that he still can’t find his damn sock. Greg is asking if anyone’s seen his cufflinks. The normal, wonderful chaos of a family getting ready for something important.
Julian’s absence is the one shadow over all this happiness.
He’s still in the hospital, slowly recovering from Viktor’s hit-and-run.
He had memory loss for the first couple of days, which terrified all of us, but that’s cleared up now.
There are still headaches. Pain in his leg.
Each day brings small improvements, but he’s not well enough to come home yet.
Not well enough to watch his little sister get married.
Mom promised she’ll hold up her camera so he can watch the ceremony on video call. It’s not the same.
My parents hoped we could postpone until he could attend in person, but they don’t understand the urgency. They don’t know that Viktor is still out there, that this wedding is supposed to draw him out. That every day I wait is another day he might hurt someone else I love.
I take a breath and smooth my hands over the bodice of my dress. Julian is recovering. That’s what matters. I need to focus on gratitude, not grief.
When I finally descend the stairs, the chatter stops.
Everyone turns to look at me. Dad finally looks up from his sock hunt. His jaw actually drops. Audrey, who just arrived, whistles. “Damn, girl.”
“Well, we can’t dillydally,” Greg says, breaking the silence with his usual practicality. “Or your groom’s going to think you stood him up.”
I laugh. “Matteo would come find me. Don’t worry about that.”
I believe it, too. If I didn’t show up, he’d tear apart the entire city looking for me. The fact that I find that comforting says a lot about how much my life has changed.
Mom crosses the room to cup my cheeks in her hands. Her eyes are shining. “I can’t believe you’re getting married today. My little girl, all grown up.”
There’s relief in her gaze. The look of a mother who’s been worried about her daughter and is finally letting herself exhale.
She doesn’t know the wedding started as a lie. She doesn’t need to.
“Let’s head out,” Dad announces, grabbing his car keys from the hook by the door. “Greg and I will drive.”
He leads the way outside, Mom following close behind. Greg holds the car door open for Sarah, one hand gentle on her lower back as she maneuvers her pregnant belly into the seat.
I lift my dress so I don’t trip on the porch steps. Thank God the ceremony’s indoors. The sun’s already vicious.
“Sierra, wait.”
Harper’s voice stops me at the threshold. I turn back. She looks pale. Her smile is bright but strained.
“Are you sure you have everything you need?”
I frown, running through a mental checklist. Purse, check. Makeup for touch ups, check. Something borrowed, something blue. Phone...
“Actually, has anyone seen my cell phone? I haven’t had it since early this morning.”
Mom’s already in the passenger seat. Audrey groans from the backseat. “Just leave it. You’re getting married, not posting to Instagram.”
“I’ll help her find it,” Harper says quickly. She steps onto the porch beside me, and I notice her hands are shaking. “Don’t worry. I’ll drive her to the church after.”
Dad hesitates, keys jingling in his grip. “Are you sure?”
“It’s fine.” Harper’s voice is tight. “We’ll be right behind you.”
I reach for her hand and give it a grateful squeeze. Her fingers are clammy.
“Okay,” Dad relents. “But please don’t be late.”
“I won’t be far behind,” I promise.
I watch the SUVs pull out of the driveway, my family waving through the windows. I grin as my mom blows me a kiss.
As I turn back toward the house, a dull thud comes from somewhere around the side yard.
I pause. “Did you hear that?”
Harper’s already holding the door open for me. “Hear what?”
I listen for another second, but there’s nothing else. Just the neighbor’s wind chimes and the distant hum of the street.
“Nothing, I guess.” I shake my head and move toward the stairs. “I think I left it in the bedroom.” The dress rustles with each step, layers of tulle and silk that suddenly feel too tight. “It’s probably—”
Harper’s hand closes around my arm.
I stop.
Her grip is too tight, her nails digging into my skin. When I look at her face, her expression has changed. The bright smile is gone. In its place is something hollow. Haunted.
Terrified.
“I’m sorry, Sierra.” Her voice breaks on my name. “I had to.”
Cold crawls up my spine. “Had to what?”
Harper doesn’t answer. Instead, she moves past me, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she walks into the kitchen.
She opens the back door.
Six men step inside. Big. Armed. Guns already drawn and pointed directly at me.
My gaze snaps to Harper. She won’t look at me. Her shoulders are shaking, tears streaming down her face, but she doesn’t say a word.
The betrayal sinks into my chest like a blade. Straight down to the bone.
My legs threaten to buckle.
“Harper.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s thin. Fractured. “What have you done?”