Chapter Three

Cassandra's POV

I ran.

Not for hope. Not for freedom. Just to survive the moment.

The gown tangled around my legs like an anchor, dragging me down with every step. The corset constricted my chest, each breath shallow and desperate. My heels struck the pavement with a rhythm that echoed my panic…a constant, jagged beat. The world spun around me, the faces of onlookers blurring into nothing. I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t know where I was going, didn’t know what would happen next. All I knew was that I had to keep running away from the altar, away from the man who had been chosen for me, away from my father's suffocating grip.

Then, suddenly…

“Ma’am, you have to come with us now.”

The voice cut through my racing thoughts. I looked up, breath hitching, my body still screaming for rest. A man in a black suit stood before me, the gleam of an earpiece visible beneath his short-cropped hair. One of his.

Panic exploded in my chest, hot and suffocating, curling around my heart like a vise. No. No, not now. This was too early. I thought i would have gone a little bit far from the arena before they caught up with me.

I bolted.

But another figure in a black suit blocked my path. Leftblocked. Rightblocked. I spun, frantic, desperate for an exit, but every direction led to more walls, more traps. The world tilted under my feet as the reality of my situation slammed into me.

Hands grabbed me. Rough, unyielding. Tape was slapped across my mouth, and before I could scream, darkness swallowed me whole.

I fought, but it was useless. My body was a ragdoll in their hands.

Thrown into a van like garbage. I hit the cold metal floor, pain slicing through my knee as it slammed into the ground. The door slammed shut behind me with a finality that made my chest ache. The engine roared to life, the van lurching forward, bouncing over the rough road.

The ride was short. Too short. I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t make sense of what was happening. My thoughts were a blur of confusion, dread, and the searing knowledge that I couldn’t escape. Not this time.

The van stopped. Hands grabbed me again, hauling me out of the back like I was nothing. The world spun, the ground scraping against my skin as I was dragged. I tasted dirt, my ankle screaming in pain as it twisted beneath me. My arms were yanked behind my back, and I felt the cold weight of his shadow descending on me, swallowing the light.

I wanted to scream, to fight, but my voice was gone, reduced to a faint whimper in the back of my throat.

He didn’t speak.

Just handed me a phone.

I didn’t want to take it. I knew what was coming. I didn’t want to know.

But I took it.

I hit play.

And then my sister.

Tied down. Blindfolded. Gagged.

My heart splintered. That room. That cursed room. The one that haunted my nightmares. The one I had tried so hard to forget.

“No…” I whimpered, the word scraping against my throat like shards of glass. My voice was hoarse, cracked, barely a whisper. I could hardly breathe.

“You said you wouldn’t touch her!” I choked, the words spilling out of me, broken and weak.

I lunged at him, my body a blur of desperation. He stepped aside, the coldest move he’d ever made.

I hit the ground. My palms split open against the rough surface, the sting of blood mingling with the dirt beneath me. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered except herEmily.

“She’s your daughter!” I screamed. My voice trembled, every ounce of my being shaking violently.

His smirk carved ice into my bones.

“So are you. Yet, here we are,” he replied, his voice low, smooth and almost amused.

The words landed like a slap.

“You already know what will happen next.”

Terror wrapped around my spine like a vice, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. I couldn’t breathe.

“I’ll do it,” I whispered. The words tasted like ash, hollow and desperate. “Please. Just don’t hurt her.”

I crawled toward him, my body shaking, every ounce of pride ripped from me. I reached for his shoes, clutching them like they were my last lifeline.

“Anything,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I’ll do anything.”

Finally, his smile. It was cold, but there was something almost satisfying in it.

“We’ll do this my way,” he said, his voice final, like a judge’s sentence.

And then, just like that, he turned.

“Someone get her cleaned up,” he ordered, throwing the words over his shoulder like a blade. “The ceremony starts in an hour. Don’t flop this again. There will be no third chances.”

My heart stopped.

He was still going through with it.

And worse?

I was still a pawn. Still trapped. Nothing had changed, except now the game had begun.