Broken Cages (MCU)✔️

Here Comes The Bride

I knew there was so much feigning innocence anymore, but I played along and bid my time. I agreed I would not showcase my love for Peter in front of the men if it meant they did not hurt him. My mother only agreed because the Croatians did not realize how compromised I had been. They just thought that any man would fall for me since Adam had. He loved me, and my mother tried to say I was lucky.

If I made him a son, I would be safe. And if I could make that son love me, I would be cared for. This had been my mother's plan, but it didn't make me pity her. I shouldn't have to pity my abuser. I never had. There was no love bombing, mother-daughter moments, or joy from our shared past—just resistance as she was someone I was supposed to be loved by. We could have helped each other, but instead, she created an enemy.

She did have my foot wrapped and locked my room. My father never visited, and neither did Adam and for both, I was thankful. There were cameras on me; there had to be, otherwise I would get to Peter.

I tried to think of ways to save him, and my only thought was begging Adam, as a wedding gift, to let him go. Saying that, I didn't want to watch anybody else die. I hoped it would work. It probably wouldn't work, but I would do anything.

My mother restricted my food, made cruel comments about my body, and began dressing me. For a week, I was back in the torture I had been in my whole life without realizing the damage it was causing. But all I could hope was that Peter survived until the wedding. And that I would have a plan.

—

That evening, my mother dressed me in white, and my wedding ring from Steve was disposed of. It had been an opulent, ostentatious piece of jewelry, far from my taste, and I couldn't bear to witness its destruction. I consoled myself, hoping it might find its way to someone who cherished it as it deserved.

We drove to a church. My father met me at the aisle. He held out his arm to me. I strained to remember the last time he had touched me—perhaps when he took Rose from me, robbing me of everything that resembled a mother figure. With resolve, I placed my arm in his.

It took a moment for me to notice Peter, bound and visibly drained, though his clothes concealed any injuries he may have suffered. It appeared they had heeded my mother's counsel, choosing not to mar the only guest. The church remained empty, save for my parents, Adam's father, and a handful of guards. An uncomfortable priest stood beside Adam, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was just as much of a prisoner as myself.

I resisted the urge to glance at Peter again.

I let my father drag me down the aisle; his metaphorical shotgun pointed at me instead of my future husband. When I reached Adam, my father sat next to my mother. I knew Peter was a few rows back.

I offered a strained smile to Adam. There had been a time when I might have genuinely welcomed this union. He grinned back, urging the priest to start the ceremony. The priest droned on for a few moments until there was a break, and we were supposed to repeat after him. I took that moment to make my move.

"Adam, I cannot lie to you any longer. My parents planned my kidnapping. They were hoping to get more money out of you for me." Adam's head shot around to look at his father, who was now standing, hand on his gun.

"Adam, I love you. I don't want to start our marriage on a lie. Not to the man I have been loyal to the whole time." I placed my hand on his. The priest stepped back, almost toppling off the stage, but he steadied himself at the last minute. Everyone watched him, including me, but not Adam.

His gunshot landed right in between my father's eyes. Shit.

And my mother was screaming and running, and the priest fell off the stage. Guards from both sides attacked. I was pushed to the ground by a guard, and I glanced toward Peter, who was struggling in his seat, looking more alert at the commotion.

I army crawled toward the pews. I tried to look like I was going for safety, but I was going towards the man I loved. My heart pounded out of my chest, and my arms were slick with blood that now covered the floor. I managed to grab my father's fallen gun on the way—His favourite gun.

When I made it three rows back, I dove on Peter, bringing him to the safety of the ground. I quickly started to untie his hands while the commotion sounded around us. I had just finished when I heard my name called out in panic.

Adam. I shot up, leaving Peter to untie his legs, hidden beneath a pew. "Is it safe?" I asked.

Adam grinned, "It's just us now, flower, and we control both empires." I looked to where his father lay, a gunshot between his eyes, and without seeing it happen, I could tell that Adam had taken the shot.

I had never shot a gun before, and Adam seemed to be a prodigy, but I would not go with him. I would not be a victim for the rest of my life. I would live my life the way I wanted or nothing.

I smiled at him, and he did exactly what I had hoped: dropped his gun, assuming the threat was gone. I waited a moment until he reached out his arms and began to walk toward me. Then, with all the gusto I had gotten from my dad, I raised his gun and chose my future.

It was a clean hit, right in the chest. I don't know what I hit, but it seemed vital because he dropped to the ground with a look of shock. I didn't watch or wait to see him die. Instead, I pulled a weak Peter up, dragged him along the aisle, and ran out the front doors.