Chapter 2: The Predator's Smile

The kiss was not a promise; it was a trap.

When Damien’s lips finally parted from hers, Avery’s knees felt dangerously weak. She stumbled back a fraction of an inch, her breath coming in shallow, jagged gasps. The heavy lace veil, now flipped back over her head, felt like a noose.

Behind his sleek, pitch-black glasses, Damien’s eyes remained completely unreadable. But his lips wore a faint, devastatingly handsome smirk.

He didn't say another word. He simply turned, his silver-tipped cane tapping lightly against the polished marble floor as he began his slow, deliberate descent down the altar.

The heavy double doors of the cathedral hadn't even fully opened before her father and stepmother were sweeping toward them like vultures.

"Damien, my boy! A spectacular ceremony!" Collin Vance’s voice boomed through the high-arched cathedral, dripping with a false, oily warmth. He clapped a heavy hand onto Damien's shoulder, though Avery noticed how quickly he withdrew it when Damien’s posture went rigid. "We couldn't be more thrilled to welcome you into the family."

"Indeed," Elaine chimed in, her sharp, heavily made-up eyes darting to Avery with a warning glare that could cut glass. She immediately stepped closer to Damien, her voice dropping into a sweet, patronizing coo. "Our Kendra is a fragile, precious thing, Damien. She’s quiet, deeply traditional, and has always lived a very... sheltered life. She’s practically a saint. We’ve raised her to be the perfect, obedient wife."

Standing just a step behind them, Avery felt a bitter taste coat her tongue. An obedient wife. A perfect, blank slate they could sell to the highest bidder.

She braced herself, waiting for Damien to drop the bomb. Her chest tightened so painfully she couldn't breathe. Was he going to expose her right here? Was he going to tell them he knew she wasn't Kendra?

Damien tilted his head slightly toward Elaine's voice. To anyone else, it looked like a blind man trying to orient himself. But to Avery, it felt like a predator tracking its prey's heartbeat.

"Is that so, Mrs. Vance?" Damien’s deep, baritone voice was smooth, completely devoid of any emotion. "An obedient saint. How comforting."

Internally, Damien was fighting the urge to laugh out loud.

Obedient? Quiet?

The woman currently standing beside him was practically vibrating with terror, her tiny, cold hand still trembling. But more than that, she radiated a quiet, fierce defiance. And then there was the smell. Vanilla. Warm, sweet, and completely unpretentious. The background file his investigators had compiled on Kendra Vance explicitly stated the woman was a high-maintenance socialite who bathed in expensive French jasmine and threw tantrums if her champagne wasn't the correct vintage.

But the final nail in the coffin was the tiny, delicate brown birthmark he had spotted peeking from the stranger's collarbone when he lifted the veil. Kendra Vance did not have a birthmark there.

She isn't Kendra.

The realization didn't anger him; it fascinated him. He had known the Vance family was desperate, but to send a proxy bride? To send a lamb to a slaughterhouse and think he wouldn't notice?

When he had whispered those terrifying words in her ear, Are you afraid of me finding out who you really are?, it had been a test. A private, cruel joke he intended to keep entirely to himself. He wasn't going to expose her. Not yet. Playing along with this little masquerade was going to be far too entertaining.

"Kendra has always been so devoted to family," Collin continued, oblivious to the wolf smiling in front of him. "I’m sure she will adapt beautifully to your... unique household, Damien."

"I have no doubt she will," Damien murmured. He turned his head slowly toward Avery's direction. Even behind the dark lenses, Avery felt her skin prickle under his unseen gaze. "My wife and I are going to get to know each other very intimately."

The way he said the word wife made a shiver run straight down Avery's spine.

"Well, we won't keep you from your wedding reception," Elaine said, her smile tight. She stepped closer to Avery, pretending to adjust the silk sleeve of her gown. In a lightning-fast, vicious movement, her manicured fingers pinched Avery’s arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Remember your grandmother," Elaine whispered, her voice a barely audible hiss against Avery’s ear. "Not a single mistake."

Avery swallowed hard, a tiny, involuntary gasp escaping her lips.

Before Elaine could even pull her hand back, the heavy, silver-tipped cane in Damien’s hand swung forward. With terrifying accuracy and a sharp, metallic clack, the cane struck the back of Elaine’s towering designer stiletto heel.

Elaine gasped, her ankle twisting slightly as she stumbled backward. If Collin hadn't caught her arm, she would have collapsed onto the marble floor.

"Oh, my," Damien said smoothly, his voice dripping with mock concern. He didn't move an inch, his face perfectly serene behind his dark glasses. "My apologies, Mrs. Vance. My depth perception is... tragically lacking today. I hope I didn't ruin your shoes."

Elaine’s face flushed a deep, angry purple, but she forced a tight, trembling smile. "N-no, Damien. It's quite alright. Just a... minor slip."

Avery stared at Damien; her breath completely hitched in her throat.

Was that really an accident?

He had aimed the cane with the precision of a sniper. There was no hesitation, no searching sweep of the cane. He had struck the exact millimetre of Elaine's heel needed to off-balance her, right at the exact second Elaine had pinched her.

But as she looked at him, Damien simply turned his blind gaze back to her, holding out his arm. His expression was completely blank, the picture of innocent helplessness.

No, Avery thought, trying to calm her frantic mind. He’s blind. It had to be a coincidence. He couldn't have seen what she did to me.

"Let's go, my sweet wife," Damien murmured, his voice dropping into that dangerously low, private register.

Avery hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing her hand on his forearm. His muscles were like rock beneath the expensive fabric of his suit.

"The car is waiting," Damien whispered as they turned toward the exit, a ghost of a dangerous smile playing on his lips. "And we have a very long night ahead of us."