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“We already know the dude’s fucked in the head,” Mikhail muttered darkly.
“Do you know where the wedding will take place?” I asked.
“Not yet,” said Mikhail. “I’m sure we’ll know in a day or two.” His expression darkened. “Are you thinking about making a move soon?”
I gave a nod. “We’ll finally have a chance to take what’s owed to us,” I said in a grim tone. “It won’t be easy for Callum to keep an eye on his sister when he’s got a wedding to arrange.”
“You’re saying we’ll be stealing Lucia? Finally?” Leon asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“We can’t let our princess be handed over to someone else,” I said. “She belongs to us.”
“Kissing her once was barely enough,” said Mikhail in a low, husky voice. “She’s kept me craving her all these years. No matter how many women I kiss, it’s her taste I always seek.”
“Kiss every inch of her,” said Leon. His amber eyes gleamed with hidden malice. “Cut every inch of her as you please. Make her bleed. She’ll be ours, after all.”
Mikhail glanced at me and I caught a glimpse of worry in his silvery eyes.
He was concerned about Leon going too far with her.
I was left with fatal scars on my face that night. They were there for the world to see, but in Leon’s case, they were invisible.
That night, Leon was the only one who’d remained conscious to witness the horrors done to us. The trauma left him with an insatiable thirst to cut his enemies and see their blood ooze from those wounds. It was kind of a drug for him, the only thing that made him feel in control.
I wasn’t going to hold Leon back. If shedding Lucia’s blood healed his scars, he was welcome to it.
Our love for her festered into something grotesque but my conscience was at peace with it. We’d been born as assassins, after all. Bloodshed and death were a part of who we were.
Callum Baldwin didn’t have any idea about who we were. He was blissfully unaware of the enemies he’d made on that night seven years ago.
“It’s time,” I said, gazing at both my brothers. “We’re going to take what’s ours.”
7
Lucia
The maids fussed about me as I stood before a tall, gilded mirror. Shafts of sunlight came in through the glass panes, throwing distorted rainbow patterns on the wide, flared skirt of my snow-white wedding gown.
My arms were encased in lace sleeves. Diamonds glittered at my ears, throat, and wrists. A sapphire-and-diamond-encrusted tiara rested on my head.
“You’re an absolute vision, Miss Lucia!” crooned Sandra, the head stylist from the salon. She came to the house early morning with her team to get me ready. “I say this to all the brides, but damn! You’re seriously the most beautiful bride in the world!”
I grimaced at her extravagant praise.
This wedding was a sham and I was nothing but a puppet in Callum’s hand.
“Smile a little more, dear,” said Sandra encouragingly.
“Leave her alone,” said Sadie, her colleague. “It’s okay to be nervous before the wedding.”
I silently felt grateful for Sadie’s intrusion. Even though she was unaware of my situation, she at least understood how I was feeling.
The women around me moved around, clearing everything away while I avoided looking at the mirror.
My life was about to be over.
My stomach churned sickeningly. It felt like there was a trapped bird in my chest, flapping its wings, desperately trying to break free.
For the first time in my life, I resented my father. He was the reason I was still hanging around this house, chained to my brother. If he’d died sooner, I could’ve been free to leave and be away from Callum.
