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My teeth grind. Maybe Samuel won’t be the only person I’ll be killing tonight.

I spin and simultaneously open the fridge, the bright light slapping me in the face. I release a shaky breath and the rest come in short bursts.

Something about Dorrian today is making me feel uneasy. I don’t know if it’s the darkness of the room or like something is lingering in the air, but he’s especially creepy today.

The fridge is open, but my eyes are looking for nothing in particular as my foot taps on the tiles.

“Are you excited for tonight?” He’s right behind me, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. “It’s your big night. You’ll be a married woman by the end of it.”

My eyes widen as my heart hammers in my chest at a thousand beats per minute.

Footsteps click on the tiled floor, away from me, then back around.

It’s like a surround sound of my doom.

“Do you know what happened to my mother when she got married to my father?” That monotonous in his voice is the most unsettling thing about him.

Oranges. Meat. Cheese.

“Imagine…” He pauses for a few beats while my eyes are still glued inside the fridge. The cold puff from it has nothing on the arctic wind coming from Dorrian. This was my first mistake—turning my back on him.

As if that wasn’t the first thing I learnt at St Anton’s. Do not turn your back on dangerous people, I berate myself.

Though, that seems to be everyone in this fucking castle.

Everyone but Kain.

Not right now, thoughts.

“You’re in a church, candles are burning, the only smell is the damp and candle wax. The organs start. You’re waiting behind those wooden doors, and suddenly they open. People you don’t know are sitting in the pews, and your husband-to-be is standing at the altar, ready to make you his wife.

“Is it love? Probably not. And you weren’t even born into this. No. You were thrown into it by misfortune.” Every word is slow and deliberate, like he’s practiced this. “You walk down the aisle, every footstep feels heavy because you know your life ends here.” He stops walking and I don’t know where he is. “The ceremony begins…”

I release a shaky breath and slam the fridge shut, turning and pressing myself against it. My eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness again, but he’s there, leaning against the kitchen island, dead eyes staring right into my soul like he’ll eat me alive any moment. He’s scarily good looking. What a waste of good looks on such a broken human.

“You’re scared. Frightened,” he continues. “The priest finally announces you’re officially husband and wife, and all you want to do is break down in tears, but you know what happens next?” He pushes off the counter, slowly inching his way towards me again but I start shuffling towards the door, not allowing him to corner me, but curiosity is killing the cat, because I want to know where he’s going with this.

“He bends you over the altar and takes you in front of everyone, preaching about how this is what God intended. That is the official union of your marriage.”

My teeth clench together, fists closing tightly. “You’re lying.”

Another step closer to what I know this town really thrives on.

He’s in front of me now, close enough that I have to crane my neck to look at him.

“I was there.”

I swallow.

“It’s tradition. It’s what they do every. Time.” His lip curls up on one side, only ever so lightly. “But I must admit it’ll be interesting to see you up there—”

I don’t think as my palm flies to his cheek, creating a resounding crack as his face snaps to the side and my breaths come in heavy.

That will never be me.

He huffs a laugh before straightening and heading towards the door. “See you at your wedding, Jordan. Wear something cute.” And with that, he disappears.

My chest eases, like he took the darkness in the room with him, but the weight of his words still presses down on me. I lean my palms against the black marble, steadying my racing imagination and trembling bones. My eyes catch on the corner of the room where he was sitting, and I rush over to it. Small figurines stand on the hard surface, some look like they’re not finished, some do. There’s one that looks like a cross being held up by four timbers. I pick it up, it’s light and slightly rough. Bringing it into the light, it reveals a carved wooden figurine. There’s a bump where the lines of the cross meet, like the beginnings of a head. He did this? Small wood shavings are scattered around the wooden figurines, leading right to my perfect weapon.