Marry or Kill

43

S O L

As I step into the ballroom, the scene before me unfolds like a fairytale dream. The room is aglow with twinkling lights and radiant decorations, casting a warm atmosphere and the individual shines of people's dresses.

People mill about with drinks in their hands, not bothering to look at me as I stand at the entrance. Somehow, relief washes over me like a tide.

Suddenly, a guard approaches, his presence looming over me like a dark shadow. In his hand, there's more chains. My heart quickens as he reaches for my dress, squatting to my ankles, his movements precise and cold. I hold my breath as the ankle chains are secured.

As he steadily unlocks the chains around my wrists, the weight of them falls away, leaving me feeling strangely unmoored. As they clatter to the floor at my feet, I can't help but glance down at the scars that mar my wrists.

The scars crisscross my skin like a map of pain. I remember the sharp sting of the spikes digging into my flesh and when the carriage would lurch forward, the sound of the wheels grinding against the uneven cobblestones. The spikes would dig into my skin, tearing at already raw flesh.

As I reopen my eyes, I'm met with the gaze of the onlookers, their eyes like piercing arrows that strip me bare.

As I navigate through the bustling ballroom, the weight of their stares feels like heavy chains dragging me down. Whispers dance through the air like mischievous spirits, as I walk by. I grit my teeth and push the discomfort aside, determined to find Mina, Elias, or Castiel.

The crowd parts before me like waves parting for a ship. Their eyes follow me, curious and calculating, and I resist the urge to snarl at them, to lash out at their prying eyes.

Every corner I turn, every glance I steal, brings me no closer to finding them. My heart pounds in my chest, a relentless drumbeat thrumming in my body. Where are they?

As the hand snakes around my waist, I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest like a caged bird desperate for escape. "Did you honestly believe I would let you wander aimlessly like this?" Atticus says, his voice a low and velvet-smooth challenge.

I meet his gaze, my eyes locking with blue ones. There's a fire burning behind those piercing eyes, a hunger that mirrors my own to get out of here."Given your apparent obsession with me, I never doubted it."

Atticus's eyes, momentarily locked with mine, now flit around the room to the deafening sound of the crowd around us. "It appears you've attracted quite the attention from those around us. Remarkably nosy, wouldn't you agree?"

For once, I agree with him. As his words ripple through the air, the attention of the crowd shifts away from us like a spell, and the noise swells louder around us. The focus of the crowd sways away from us, their gazes wandering elsewhere at his words, and conversations continue.

The colours of the ballroom are dizzying, swirling around me in multiple different colours as a knot in my stomach tightens. Malia is going to burn this place down, and Castiel is going to stay. Did he lie to me? As my eyes flit around me, I notice how many casualties there will be if this place explodes.

Suddenly, a calloused hand touches the other side of my waist, and Atticus swirls me around to face him. The silk ends of my dress skim my toes, and the colours of the ballroom mix together like a brewing potion.

His touch is as dark and malicious as it is ominous, his fingers dig into the sides of my waist like talons leaching itself into my skin. Surprise sets in my stomach, and I instinctively look at him.

There's a burning fire in his eyes as I look at him, and it's like no one else is around us when he stares into me.

"What are you doing?" I say, a mixture of confusion and discomfort colouring my voice.