Chapter Three

Sylvie's POV

The wedding morning is finally here. After three long years, I can not wait to say yes and become Mrs Thorne.

The hotel door was pushed open by Evelyn and Darian's cousins.

“The bride is awake.” One of the girls said laughing. “ It's time for your makeup my dear.”

“You have to look your best, Darian shouldn't be able to take his eyes off you,” Evelyn said while coming to drag me up the bed.

“Good morning to you all,” I muttered sleepily while allowing Evelyn drag me to the bathroom while wondering why I wasn't tense like the usual bridezillas but then I have to thank my Mother-in-law for acting that part for me.

After showering, the bridesmaids pushed me into a chair. A team of professionals began painting my face and curling my hair.

After hours, “You can look now,” the makeup artist whispered.

I turned toward the mirror and gasped. “Wow, you look so stunning,” Joyce, Darian's sister, said.  

I couldn't help but agree as I looked into the mirror, I saw how the makeup artist worked her magic on me. I would never have believed that I could ever return to looking this good.

“C’mon C’mon C’mon, you have to wear the dress and don't forget the blue hairpin, at least it's something blue right?” Evelyn said as the rest started laughing along and I could not help but join them.

Ringgggg…

My phone interrupted us and one of the girls handed it to me, “Your man can't wait to see you, can he?”  

My cheeks turned red instantly as I got the phone from her and stepped toward the quietest corner of the room,with the girls giggling behind me.

“My beautiful bride,” Darian’s voice, low and vibrant, immediately filled my ear. “I know tradition dictates we shouldn’t speak, but I had to hear your voice before the ceremony.”

“Darian, you’re supposed to be outside greeting the guests. Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

He laughed, a rich, confident sound. “Me? Nervous? Never. Impatient? Absolutely. The church is filling up. Every prominent figure in the city is here. It’s magnificent, darling. But it’s an empty room until you arrive.”

His words, as always, were perfectly chosen to bolden my confidence and center his world around me. It was a power he wielded beautifully and did unconsciously..

“I’m almost dressed,” I told him, looking at the wedding dress, a masterpiece of white lace and silk. I walked towards it, trailing it with my hands. “I’m looking at myself, and I honestly think I’ve never been this ready for anything in my life. Thank you, Darian. For everything.”

“My gratitude will be endless, Sylvie,” he whispered, a new, possessive note entering his voice. “I’ll be waiting at the altar. Don't be late. I need to make you mine, officially, irrevocably.”

“Thirty more minutes,” I promised, the smile finally reaching my eyes.

“Thirty minutes. Forever awaits.”

The girls started dressing me, after helping me with the gown, Evelyn moved on to the accessories. 

She grabbed the necklace and was about to wear me when she paused, “Oh, you've got another necklace here," she said, reaching for the thin silver chain I always wore hidden under my clothes. "Let’s take this old thing off so the diamonds can sit right."

"No!" I screamed, immediately grabbing her wrist.

The room went dead silent. Evelyn stared at me, shocked.

"I'm sorry," I breathed, clutching the small, worn pendant. "I’m sorry. Just... leave it. Please."

"I'm sorry, Sylvie," Evelyn whispered, looking hurt. She stepped back and simply draped the diamond wedding necklace over the top of it.

The hidden pendant was a simple silver circle. A friendship necklace. It belonged to him. And even though I hated him, I just can't bring myself to take it off. 

I've never taken it off since I wore it fifteen years ago. Stop it, Sylvie. Don't think about him.

After dressing, we made our way down to the waiting limousine. The bridesmaids piled into a separate car, leaving me with George, the driver Darian had personally assigned to me.

“Congratulations, Miss Carter. Ready?” George asked, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

“Thank you, George and yes I'm ready,” I said, smoothing my gown. “Lesh gau,” I said playfully.

As the car pulled away from the house, I watched the city blur past. But five minutes into the drive, my brow furrowed. George took a sharp left turn where he should have gone right. Maybe he wants to use a shortcut.

Five more minutes, we were driving into a quiet environment and my heart stuttered. . “Uhm, George, where are we going? You took a wrong turn.” I said but I got no reply 

George refused to meet my eyes and it was dead silence in the car. “George! Open the door!” I screamed, my voice thin as I felt my lungs collapsing. The veil felt suffocating.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, animal drumming. His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he pushed the heavy car to its limits. 

“George.” I screamed.

We were weaving through the industrial district, a wasteland of rusted warehouses and salt-cracked shipping containers near the docks. 

This is wrong. Darian. I should call Darian.

I fumbled for the phone inside my purse, My hands shook so violently I nearly dropped my purse. Just as my thumb grazed the screen to dial the emergency number, the world turned into a blur of violence.

The limousine screeched to a halt in the shadow of a massive, derelict warehouse. Before I could even scream, the back door on the driver's side burst open.

Two large, masked men, smelling faintly of cheap motor oil and stale cigarette smoke, lunged into the space between the front and back seats. One was armed with a gun, which I am very sure he didn't need. And the other was armed with sheer, terrifying force.

I screamed in panic while crawling backwards.

“Silence!” the first man snarled, his voice guttural and unrecognizable.

The second one went towards the driver's seat and pulled George’s large body out, tossing him roughly onto the gravel road. George went limp, revealing the truth: he had been armed with a timer on his body. The man slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. The whole violent intrusion took almost three seconds.

And when George tried to stop the man from driving away with me.

Bang. Bang.

The first man shot him.

I screamed at the deafening echo of the shots in the enclosed space of the car. I turned back and watched in frozen horror as George slumped back into the dust, two dark holes blooming with clinical precision in the center of his forehead.

I let out a jagged, guttural cry, my hands flying to my mouth. "Please," I sobbed, rubbing my hands together as I watched the world blur into a nightmare. "Please, I’ll give you whatever you want. Darian... Darian will pay you. Just let me go.”

The man turned to look back at me threateningly and silently and they drove for another ten to fifteen minutes.

At that backseat, I couldn't stop praying, praying for a miracle. That this day shouldn't end like this. Half praying and half crying, I could not bring myself to imagine the pain Darian will go through if he finds out I've been kidnapped. 

While I was lost in thoughts, the men had packed the car at an incompleted building and turned to open the backseat. Then, with terrifying swiftness, the first man produced a heavy, dark rag.

I knew what he was going to do with that but I'm not going down without a fight. I kicked out, my satin shoes connecting with his shins. I punched and clawed at his mask, trying to find skin, trying to leave a mark. But it was useless. He was an oak tree, and I was a leaf. 

The kidnapper’s arm wrapped around my neck, crushing the delicate lace collar of the dress. The pressure was immediate, cutting off my air. The scent of motor oil and ether on the rag was overpowering. 

 My lungs burned, my limbs grew heavy, and my vision began to fray at the edges. The last thing I saw before the world went black was a pair of hard, pitiless eyes that held no mercy for humanity.