DEBORAH'S P.O.V
I had it all calculated. By this time tomorrow, I'll be registering my classes at Stanford.
All I need to do is get through this dinner first.
The chicken tasted like sand. Laughter floated through the restaurant, but none of it reached me. I sat at the long table dressed in soft lavender satin, surrounded by family, Jethro's mother, a few elders, and church members I barely knew.
My parents beamed like royalty, too proud to see I was crumbling. My sister sat oddly clear eyes for someone who just lost her husband.
"Deborah," my mother smiled,reaching for my hand. "After the wedding, we'll help you move into Jethro's quarters. You'll have your own sewing room."
"I hate sewing." I mumbled.
The smile dropped from her face like a stone. She looked away, pretending she hadn't heard me.
I jerked as I felt a pair of hand rub and grip across my thigh under the table. His fingers curled into my skin. I'm reminded of the scene at the hotel-the scars he left on my skin and fear grips me.
His hands ran up my thigh and I quickly crossed my legs.
I wanted to throw up."Deborah, you haven't touched your food," my mother said beside me, leaning in with her ever-present grace.
"Darling, are you feeling alright?"I nodded, forcing a small smile. His hands pinched painfully at my upper thigh.
"Just a bit tired," I murmured.She smiled back, unaware. Or maybe she knew and just didn't care to dig deeper.
He leaned in again, brushing his lips near my ear. "You're going to be all mine tonight," he whispered, breath hot and full of assumption.
I stiffened.
I flinched and shifted as far away from him as I could. I looked at my father, but he was too busy discussing family alliances with one of the deacons.
I'm suffocating.
I already had a plan. Tonight, after dinner, I'd slip away. I'd run. I'd disappear.
But then what?
If I run, my family would pay for it. Jethro would spin a story about how I'd dishonored them, and in a community like ours, reputation is everything. I'd destroy my mother's pride, my father's standing.
A single mistake and everything would fall.
My eyes burned. I forced a smile and took a sip of water. His hands found my thighs again and this time, his fingers prodded my insides.
The sound of slamming doors silenced the room instantly. The Don's soldiers flooded the restaurant. All dressed the same. Suits, bulletproof vests, weapons strapped to their sides.
My heart pounded in fear as I pray they're not here for us.
My breath caught in my throat as one man walked through the middle like he owned the air.
Mikael.
He looked colder and more dangerous now.
My heart screamed before I could move.
He looked at me once. Just once.
My father's hand shot out beside me. "What the hell is this?" he barked. "You have no right—"
He stopped at the sight of Mikael.
"Stand Up Pastor David Daniels," he said, his voice sharp and commanding.
My father stood slowly. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Don Sinister."
My blood froze.
Don Sinister?
He was the Don?
I slept with the Don?
No.
No. No. No.
"You killed my son-in-law," he growled. Gasps rippled around the room. My mother clutched her chest."
"And you killed my sister," Sinister replied, unmoved. "So we're even. Or we were. Until you thought selling your daughter's virginity would make me disappear."
The room was silent.I felt like someone had dropped ice into my veins. I blinked, trying to make sense of what he just said."What are you talking about?" my father snapped.
Sinister looked at me again—this time not with the softness from before, but with something else.
"Oh you didn't know?," he said. "Your daughter spent all of last night pleasing me. Fortunately for you, she's quite the seductress."
My heart dropped. Every part of me wanted to scream. I didn't know. I had no idea who he was or what this was about. But the words wouldn't come. My mother covered her mouth. My father went pale. And Jethro—Jethro looked smug.
"I want her." Sinister said, with a cruel finality that cut deeper than anything I'd ever heard.
Jethro stood up."You can't just barge in here—
Sinister's gun was out before anyone could blink. "Sit down, puppet."
Jethro sat.
No one questioned it.
"You daughter gave herself to me," Sinister continued, his voice slow and cruel. "A virgin bride."
He looked right at me then.
Right through me.
"I've decided that I want her in my bed every night from now on."
My entire body went cold.
"What?" I whispered.
My mother gasped. My father looked like he'd been slapped.
I wanted to disappear.
I clutched the edge of the table, my throat tightening.
He lied.
He had to be lying.
Didn't he?
Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them away. "I didn't know who you were," I said, voice trembling. "You didn't tell me."
"You didn't ask."
I shook my head. "You don't know me."
"I know where I found you."
"I needed the money!"
His eyes narrowed.
Then he laughed.
He turned to my father.
"You have two options," Sinister said calmly flexing his gun,"I kill you... or she comes with me. Tonight. And you'll never see her again."
My mother cried out.
"No!" Jethro yelled.
"She's not going anywhere with that bastard—"
"Watch your mouth," Sinister warned.
"I'm her father," my father said, voice rising. "You don't get to make demands. Not in my house."
"I don't make demands," Sinister replied. "I give orders."
His jaw tensed. Something shifted in his eyes—just for a moment and he smirked at me.
"I'm not here to argue," he said finally, pulling out a gun and pointing it at my father.
My mother screamed.
"No—please—don't!" I cried out, moving in front of my dad.
He pulled the trigger, but aimed low. My father dropped with a scream, clutching his shoulder.
"Stop!" I begged, turning to Sinister. "Please. I'll go with you."
He stared at me for a long time. Everyone was watching. My mother sobbed over my father. Jethro shouted something I didn't hear.
Sinister didn't blink.
"I said I'll go with you," I said again, louder this time.
"You're not his to take!" Jethro spat, stepping forward. "She's mine!"
"She's not yours until there's a ring," my father hissed from the floor.
"And there never will be," Sinister replied. He stepped toward me, without hesitation, and lifted me up—literall
"So be it."
Sinister looked at me. Really looked. Then in one swift move, he lifted me effortlessly over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.
"I can walk," I said, voice shaking.
"Put me down," I whispered. "Please."
"No."
He turned and walked through the chaos, out the restaurant doors, his men following.
And as if for the grand finale, he slapped my butt.
Hard