Rebels & Romance (Vol.2 A MC Anthology)
Chapter 1
Chapter One
ELENA
The dress weighs a damn ton. Not because of the fabric.
Not because of the lace stitched into the sleeves or the thousands of tiny pearls sewn across the bodice.
Because it feels like a coffin. I stare at myself in the mirror while the makeup artist fusses around me, pretending not to notice the yellowing bruise beneath my collarbone.
She saw it. Everyone always sees. They just never say anything.
“Perfect,” she says softly. Perfect. I almost laugh.
Outside the bridal suite, music drifts through the country club halls. Expensive voices. Fake laughter. Crystal glasses clinking together. A celebration. That’s what they think this is. My stomach twists hard enough to make me dizzy.
“You okay, Miss Delmont?” the makeup artist asks carefully.
No. No, I’m absolutely not okay. But before I can answer, the suite door opens. Grant Holloway walks in wearing a tailored black tuxedo and the same cold smile that’s haunted me for three years. The makeup artist immediately stiffens.
“Out,” Grant says.
She practically flees. The second the door shuts, the room changes, the air gets thinner.
Dangerous. Grant walks toward me slowly, adjusting his cufflinks.
Calm. Controlled. Like he isn’t a monster hiding inside expensive suits.
His hand lands on the back of my neck and he squeezes a little too hard.
“You embarrassed me earlier.” My pulse spikes.
“I didn’t mean—” His fingers tighten.
“You pulled away from me in front of my father.” Pain flashes down my spine.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
I stare at the floor. That’s safer. Always safer. He grips my jaw hard enough to force my head up.
“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. He likes tears.
“After today,” he murmurs, “everything changes. Your inheritance transfers. We finally become a family. And you stop acting like a frightened little bitch every time I touch you.”
My chest caves inward. Not because of the money. Because he said finally. Meaning this has all been leading here. The bruises, control, isolating me and all the threats. Marriage won’t make it better. It’ll trap me forever. Grant leans down close enough for me to smell whiskey on his breath.
“If you run today,” he whispers, “I’ll find you.”
Ice floods my veins. Then he smiles. Smooths my veil. And walks out. Like he didn’t just threaten me before our wedding. The second the door clicks shut, I stop breathing. I can’t do this. I just can’t. What my life might look like flashes before me, resembling something from a horror film.
My eyes lock onto my reflection again. The girl staring back at me doesn’t even look alive anymore.
I am twenty-eight years old. Bruises hidden beneath designer lace.
Terrified of the man waiting at the altar.
I think about my grandparents. About the ranch they left me, the inheritance clause I discovered hidden in Grant’s office two weeks ago.
Marry before thirty and everything transfers fully into my control.
Unless my husband manipulates shared access first. Which Grant already planned to do.
I found the paperwork, along with the forged documents and hidden accounts. He never loved me. I was just the key. My breathing turns sharp. Fast. Panicked. Then something inside me finally snaps. No. Not today.
I grab the envelope hidden beneath the vanity drawer, the papers I stole from Grant’s office and shove them into my small backpack. I kick off my heels. Then I run. Straight out the side exit and into the rain.