Page 6 of Vow to Claim You

Excuse me. Ex-boyfriend.

“Let her talk to him,” Aric states, and a freezing sensation coils around my spine.

Like everyone else’s, my gaze focuses on him. Aric. He looks at me too, and our eyes lock. The moment feels like a silent tug-of-war. Whoever gives in first loses. Everything around me seems to vanish, and I can only see his cold stare.

Let her talk to him?

This must be some sort of test. Or a trap. Something I don’t see coming. Because surely, men like Aric don’t just let things happen. Especially not things like this.

The chapel is silent. The kind of silence ready to split open like the most devastating thunder. I can feel every pair of eyes on me. My family’s. His family’s. The vultures of society, all gathered to witness a marriage that’s not a union, but a transaction, and now, they’re all watching me. Anticipating my next move.

And so, I raise my chin high and step away from the altar. Away from the statue made of ice I’m supposed to marry, and toward a man I once believed was my future. The clicking of my heels against the stone floor echoes in the quiet like a death sentence I’m bringing upon myself. My bouquet trembles in my hands, petals shivering like they know a fatal storm’s about to unleash.

“Ayanna.” Luca reaches me halfway, his hands already twitching like he wants to pull me into his arms. His arms that once made me feel safe. “You don’t have to do this. Leave with me. Right now. I promise we’ll figure something out, just like we always do. Please.”

God, for a heartbeat, I want to believe him. I want to throw the veil back, run down the aisle, and pretend love is enough to protect us from people like them. From societies like the one my father is obsessed with joining. From the cold stranger waiting at the altar.

But it’s not, and it won’t, and I know it the moment I glance back.

Aric hasn’t moved an inch. He stands there at the altar like the king of this chaos, his hands clasped behind his back, expression carved from stone. And those frigid Nordic-cold eyes remain fixed on me.

Luca grips my hands. “Say the word, and we’re gone.”

I briefly look around. My mother whispers frantically to my father, probably weighing which is worse—losing me or the precious ticket to the society. Vidar growls something guttural in Norwegian, and though I don’t understand a single word, his fury rattling the air is translation enough to know how things will end if I choose the wrong man.

My heart skids against my ribs, torn between what I wish I could and what I know I must do. My throat is dry, and my pulse won’t slow down.

“Ayanna,” Luca pleads, his tone growing desperate. “Don’t marry him. Don’t let them do this to you. I love you.”

“Now what, Princess?” Aric’s voice cuts through the air, and my head snaps to him as if on autopilot, the veil rustling around my face.

It feels like the chapel holds its breath—Aric holds mine—because no matter what I say next, the cost will be blood.

I force myself to breathe as I turn my focus back on my b—ex-boyfriend. “Luca.” His name tastes bittersweet on my tongue. “I made my decision the day I signed those papers. The day I told you it was over.”

His face cracks like I’ve just struck him with something heavier than words.

“I told you then,” I whisper, though the entire chapel hears me, “and I’ll tell you now. Leave…while you still can.”

I glance toward the guards at the back. A single nod is all it takes. Two of them step forward and clamp their hands around Luca’s arms.

“Ayanna,” he hisses, struggling at first while looking at me as if there’s still a chance. But there’s not. And there will not be. Perhaps, he finally sees that in my face because eventually he stops and follows their lead.

As the door closes behind them, the silence that follows feels like a verdict. I know I have no other choice but to turn and walk back to the altar.

Toward him.

He still hasn’t moved. Not a word, not a twitch. It’s infuriating how he doesn’t speak. The man of a thousand shadows and only three words. But despite the silence, I finally see something in those frozen blue eyes. It’s almost imperceptible, hidden deep in the frost, but it’s there. Some sort of validation or approval.

Then the priest clears his throat, and the ceremony resumes. We speak the vows that feel like chains, but my voice doesn’t falter. Though inside, every word burns like poison. And when he slides the wedding band onto my finger, it feels heavy like a shackle.

But it’s not the worst part.

“You may kiss the bride.” This is.

The vein in my neck pulsates like a warning drum no one else can hear when my veil is lifted as though I was stripped bare before him. Aric doesn’t move at first. He doesn’t lean in like a man eager to claim his bride. Instead, he watches me as if I’m a problem he’s calculating how to solve.

Eventually, his hand comes up, fingers grabbing my chin. He pulls it up, startlingly gently for a man who looks carved from stone. He slowly leans down, his lips hover against mine, so agonizingly close it’s giving me chills.