#Chapter 4: Marry Me or Kill Me

Eva's POV

He'd seen.

The thought hit before I could breathe. I grabbed the gun and pulled, catching it against his jacket for one terrible second before it came free.

The weight surprised me. Heavy, cold, solid in a way that made my wrists ache as I stumbled backward, the hem of the wedding dress catching under my heel.

One step. Two.

I brought my other hand up beneath the first and pointed it at his chest.

“No.” My voice shook. I shook my head harder, as if that could undo the words I'd just spoken. “I will never marry you.”

The pews erupted.

Men surged to their feet. Jackets flew open. Suddenly there were guns everywhere, all of them pointed at me.

Someone screamed. The congregation screamed. A woman yanked her child under a pew.

My arms shook. My vision narrowed to a point. I could feel my pulse hammering in my fingertips where they pressed against the trigger guard, and the blood pounding in my ears drowned everything else out.

I had never held a gun before.

Now half the church was ready to shoot me.

“Put that down!” Dad shouted. “Eva, put it down!”

I couldn't.

If I lowered it, they would take it. He would take me. There would be a car, a locked door, a wedding night I hadn't chosen.

I'd spent my whole life being told to wait. To save myself for a man I loved.

I wouldn't let this man decide that none of it mattered.

Mateo raised one hand.

He didn't look away from me.

“Lower them.”

Nobody moved at first.

“Don—” one of the men began.

Mateo turned his head.

That was all.

The man glanced at Enzo. Enzo's jaw tightened, but he lowered his weapon. The others followed, slowly, watching my hands.

Mateo looked back at me. The church settled into a horrible, held-breath quiet.

Then he took a step forward.

“Stay back.”

He kept coming.

I retreated, my heel catching in my skirt. Satin pulled tight around my ankles. I nearly fell, and the gun jerked upward.

Mateo didn't even flinch.

“Stay back!” My voice broke. “I'll shoot!”

He stopped within reach.

“Then shoot.” His sleeves were still dark with someone else's blood. He didn't hurry. Didn't blink. The candlelight caught the scar through his eyebrow and turned it gold.

I stared at him.

His hand closed around mine. His palm was warm.

I gasped and tried to pull away, but he drew the gun toward himself, pressing the barrel against his chest. Right over his heart.

I could feel the resistance through my shaking hands. His body. A living person standing on the other side of the thing I was holding.

He smiled.

"Go ahead, little bride." His voice dropped. Almost gentle. "Kill me, and you're free."

Free.

Kill him.

One squeeze and a bullet goes through his heart.

Such a small movement. I could barely keep my hands still, and that was all it would take.

A man would die.

Here. In front of me.

Because of me.

My stomach lurched. My whole body had gone cold except for my face, which burned.

Behind his shoulder, the candles were still burning. I'd trimmed those wicks this morning. Straightened the flowers. Polished the brass candlesticks until they shone.

I'd wanted everything clean for the service.

And now I stood in it wearing a stolen wedding dress, with a gun pressed against a man's heart.

Thou shalt not kill.

I'd known those words before I could spell my own name. I had never hurt a living thing.

Mateo watched my face. His thumb rested over my knuckles, almost still.

"But if you don't..." He leaned closer. His breath touched my forehead. "You're mine."

I clenched my teeth.

My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. The room tilted. My father's voice came from somewhere behind me — my name somewhere in it— but the words reached me like they were coming through water, distorted and far away.

Mateo's mouth was the only thing I could focus on.

"And tonight." His thumb traced a slow circle on the back of my hand, right where my fingers gripped the gun. "I won't just touch you. I will wreck you."

A pause. His smile widened.

"And you'll beg for more."

Heat flooded my face. The same awful current I'd felt when his thumb traced my lip. I wanted to scream. I wanted to bite him again.

Something broke.

Not a bone. Not a wall. The part of me that still believed God was watching. The part that trusted a prayer would be enough. That believed if I was good and pure and obedient, nothing truly terrible could happen.

That part went quiet.

Two roads. Both led to hell. Pull the trigger and damn my soul. Don't pull it and lose everything else.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Lord, forgive me.

I pulled the trigger.