Chapter 3 #2
She looks back up then, eyes shining, jaw trembling. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly,” I counter, my throat tight. “You are terrified, and you are clinging to the first thing that makes you feel like this life is still yours.”
Her expression twists, pain finally breaking through the anger. “That’s not fair.”
“Neither is marrying a man you don’t want,” I shoot back, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “Neither is standing at an altar tomorrow knowing your heart is already somewhere else.”
I catch it then, the subtle shift in the hallway, the way one of the guards tilts his head just slightly, attention sharpening despite his attempt to look uninterested.
Erin notices it too and lets out a low groan, equal parts frustration and exhaustion, as if being watched is something she should be used to by now but never truly will be.
Before I can say anything else, she grabs my wrist and yanks me sideways, pulling me across the hall and into an empty sitting room. The door shuts behind us with a muted click, cutting off the corridor and the listening ears beyond it.
The room smells faintly of dust and old upholstery.
The curtains are half-drawn against the night, and the furniture is covered in protective sheets, as if the space has been forgotten in the frenzy of wedding preparations.
Erin does not release my wrist until her eyes has scanned every inch of the room for, her fingers lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary, like she needs the contact to steady herself.
She exhales hard and turns to face me, anger and fear tangled together in her eyes.
Her lips part, then press together again as she inhales sharply through her nose.
“I didn’t wait,” she says suddenly, the words spilling out like they have been clawing at her chest for days.
“I couldn’t. I tried, Rosie, I swear I tried.
But every time I thought about waiting, about doing everything the right way, it felt like I was suffocating. ”
My stomach drops, cold and heavy.
“Erin,” I say slowly, a warning threaded through her name, because I can feel exactly where this is headed and I am not ready for it.
She steps closer anyway, voice breaking as she rushes on. “I didn’t want my first time to belong to a contract. I didn’t want it to belong to politics or alliances or men who shake hands over my future like it’s a business deal.”
My chest tightens so sharply it hurts to breathe. I know who she is talking about. I have known for two days, even without her saying it, and hearing her circle the truth like this feels like watching a blade hover just above skin.
“You should have told me,” I say, my voice hoarse now. “You should have trusted me.”
“I was afraid,” she whispers. “Afraid you would look at me the way you’re looking at me now.”
I shake my head slowly, the motion heavy with everything I am holding back. “I am not angry because you fell in love. I am angry because you didn’t tell me. Did you really think you couldn’t trust me?”
“No,” she says quickly, dragging her hands through her hair and gripping at the bronze roots like she needs something solid to hold onto.
“I knew I could trust you, but if I said it out loud—if I admitted it was real, and Rosie, it is real, it’s so real—I knew everything would change.
I love him more than I thought I could ever love someone. ”
I stare at her for a beat too long, then let out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “I thought I was the one you loved the most.”
Her mouth twitches despite herself. “Well, you can’t exactly fuck me the way he does.”
“Okay,” I say, exhaling through a reluctant chuckle, heat creeping into my cheeks as the thought flashes unbidden through my mind. “Point taken. But it doesn’t matter. You marry Dante Salvatore tomorrow.”
The words hang between us, heavy and absolute, the way facts do when they cannot be argued with.
Erin’s face crumples at once, whatever humor she had scraped together dissolving into something raw and desperate.
“I can’t,” she says, shaking her head so hard her curls whip around her face.
“Rosie, I can’t do it. I know I’m supposed to want to be a good daughter, I know I’m supposed to smile and make this sacrifice for the family, but I can’t stand there and say vows to a man I don’t love. ”
I stiffen. “You don’t even know him.”
“That doesn’t matter,” she snaps, stepping closer again, her hands fisting in the fabric of her dress. “I know who I love. I know who I wake up thinking about and who I run to when everything feels unbearable. I am in love with Dolan.”
Hearing his name out loud feels like a punch to the ribs.
My chest tightens, breath catching painfully as the truth finally lands in full, undeniable shape.
This is not a crush or a mistake or a moment of weakness.
This is a choice she has already made, one she has been living inside for months while I stood guard outside the door.
“Erin,” I say carefully, my voice low and controlled because if I raise it, something inside me will fracture. “You understand what that means. You understand what Father will do if he finds out.”
“I know,” she whispers. “That’s why I need to leave. Tonight, or tomorrow, before it’s too late.”
“No,” I say immediately, shaking my head. “Absolutely not. Running away will get you hunted. You don’t disappear from this family. You don’t disappear from this city.”
She swallows, eyes glossy but resolute. “Not if I have time. Not if I have help.”
The way she looks at me then makes my stomach sink.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
She takes a breath, steadying herself, and meets my eyes. “I need you to buy me time.”
I let out a sharp laugh, more disbelief than humor. “You want me to distract Father while you run?”
“No,” she says quickly. “I want you to take my place.”
The room seems to tilt.
“What?” I ask flatly.
She steps closer, lowering her voice even though we are alone.
“We switch. Just long enough to get through the beginning. Veils, dresses, the aisle. No one questions you because you’re always with me.
You walk to the front, and by the time anyone realizes something is wrong, I’ll already be gone with Dolan. ”
“That’s insane,” I say, my pulse roaring in my ears. “That will get us both killed.”
“It won’t,” she insists, gripping my hands now, desperate. “It will work. Father won’t be watching the aisle, he’ll be watching Dante. Everyone will be watching the ceremony. You know how this house works better than anyone.”
I pull my hands free, pacing a tight circle through the sitting room, my thoughts racing. Every instinct I have screams against this. This is reckless. This is dangerous. This is not protection, it is participation in treason.
And yet.
I stop and look at her, really look at her, at the woman she has become and the terror shining through her bravery. She is not asking for adventure. She is asking to live.
“If this goes wrong,” I say quietly, “there is no fixing it. Father will never forgive you. He may never forgive me.”
“I know,” she whispers. “But if I stay, I will lose myself. And I can’t survive that, Rosie. I just can’t.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.
I think of all the years I promised her safety. I think of every time I stood between her and something sharp. I think of how love, real love, is the only thing Father ever truly respected, even when it destroyed him.
I close my eyes once, long and slow, then open them again.
“Not tonight,” I say finally. “If we do this, we do it tomorrow, at the start of the ceremony. No running blindly into the dark.”
Her breath shudders. “You’ll help me?”
“I will help you escape,” I say, the words tasting like blood and vows and inevitability. “But once you walk away, there is no coming back.”
Tears spill down her cheeks as she throws her arms around me, clinging like she did when we were girls. “Thank you,” she sobs. “I knew you would.”
I hold her tightly, my arms firm and unyielding, already bracing for the consequences.
Because tomorrow, I will walk toward the altar in her place, and everything I have ever been trained to protect will begin to burn.